“What is your interest in Lord Beaumont?” he asked Verity.
“He is my patron,” Verity said. “He promised to take us both to England.”
Henrietta took a deep breath. “He takes care of my cousin, and in these troubled times...” She clutched the lapel of his coat, damp from the mist. “There must be a way. Has anyone ever escaped from this prison?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Once, a man broke out, back in the days when this was an asylum. Paid his jailer to hide him in a laundry basket.”
“Is there another way, Jean-Paul?” Verity asked.
“No! If I were to help you, I’d go to the guillotine too.”
“I remember you confessing you wished to leave France. I may be able to pay you,” Verity said.
He looked furtively around. “Please don’t repeat that to anyone.”
“We’ll make it worth your while,” Henrietta said.
“I doubt it. It would take a goodly amount. I must go. We can discuss it later.”
Verity shook her head. “Non.We must decide now.”
“Then I’m sorry. I can’t help you. I must begin my shift, or I’ll be penniless on the streets.” Jean-Paul pulled his sleeve away from Henrietta’s fingers and turned toward the steps.
“Wait!” Henrietta delved into the pocket in her skirts. She held up a handful of jewels, sparkling in the lantern light. “These will be yours should you help us. There’s enough here to get you far away from Paris. To a better life.”
Verity stared at them open-mouthed.
Jean-Paul put his hand out, but Henrietta moved back. She dangled her mother’s sapphire necklace from her fingers. “These are very fine. A king’s ransom, no?”
“One might say a lord’s ransom.” Jean-Paul stared at her hand. “You stole them?”
“What does that matter? They are genuine.”
His gaze rested on the jewels. Verity put a hand on his shoulder. “You agree,mon ami?”
“I will help you if you can you get hold of a boat. Return at eleven of the clock.”
“A boat? How can we find a boat at this late hour?” Verity asked.
“The river is the only possible way of escape,” he said. “There are guards on every floor. But steps lead down to the Seine at the rear of the building. When the shift changes, I have a few minutes to move them. If you’re there with a boat, I’ll bring them down. If you’re not, I will know that you’ve failed.”
“We’ll be there,” Henrietta said, as a small kernel of hope warmed her.
Jean-Paul nodded. A clock somewhere boomed the hour. He ran up the steps, opened the door, and disappeared inside.
Verity turned to observe her with lifted brows. “You failed to mention the jewels.”
“They were always to be used to free my father.” Henrietta raised her chin. “You didn’t tell me about the pistol.”
“Because I feared you’d shoot someone. You don’t trust me.” It was a bald statement of fact.
Henrietta wanted to, desperately. What other motive could Verity have for freeing her father? But she could not dismiss the reason she came to London. “Should I?”
Verity shrugged. She turned and dashed out onto the street, her arm raised.
Henrietta was afraid she might step in front of a carriage, she looked so determined. An empty carriage trundled around the corner a few minutes later. An old Berliner with a crest on the door panel. It would have once belonged to an aristocrat who had been parted from his property, and perhaps his head. The Berliner would be monstrously slow.
The jarvie was forced to pull the horses up or run Verity down. “Where to, mademoiselle?”
