Page 36 of Lord Appleby's Gorgeous Imposter
“It’s Charmaine de Massé, monsieur.”
He grumbled and groaned. “Wrong day, madame.”
He always called hermadame. She shook her head. “Monsieur, only a word, please.”
He grumbled more. Then his door swung open on its creaky hinge. Ordinarily a good man to deal with, when drunk, he was a bore. “What might you want, eh?”
“Might I come in?”
He waved an arm in elaborate circles. “You’re in now,chatte.”
In his cups, he could be crude. She had no energy to chastise him, only to get what she needed. So she sat.
He put his jowly face near hers, pressing his lips together as he curled a brow and established that, indeed, this was the lady of the hour. “Not open tonight. Why’re you here? Hmm?”
Her eyes watered at the sour alcohol on his breath. “I wondered, monsieur, if you been able to get any of those medicinals we spoke about?”
“Medicine. What?”
She cleared her throat. “You agreed to purchase for me a few tinctures at an apothecary you frequent.”
He lowered both brows and let his tongue bathe his lower lip. “Hmmm.Apothicaire?Did I?”
“You said you knew of a good one in Place Royale.”
“Oui.Not Royale. Vosges.” He stood taller, his head bobbing as he scanned the walls of his littered cubbyhole.
Meanwhile, Viv was bitterly recalling that Bonaparte had changed the name of the famous Parisian square to the part of the country which had paid their taxes to keep up the Corsican’s army. “The apothecary, monsieur? Did you see him and buy my—”
“No. Haven’t”—he hiccuped—“seen him. Haven’t.”
She sighed, but smiled at him. “Perhaps if you were to give me his address?”
“Why not, eh? Wait. Don’t go.” He went to scribble on a loose scrap he had on his little desk. “Know a man came looking for you this morning?”
“No, I did not know. A patron, was he?”
“No. Didn’t look it.”
“No?”Who, then?“Why not, monsieur?”
“Not dressed. Very…”
She pressed her lips tighter at his hesitance. “Very what, Monsieur Lamond?”
He snarled his lip. “Gendarme, I’d guess. Sharp. Cagey. Off, I’d say.”
“A city official looking to cite us for breaking some code?” She ventured at that because the government was known for suddenly deciding some play or newspaper or street vendorwas infringing on new orders of banned topics. Bonaparte and his men pretended they were such freedom-loving republicans, when in fact they issued edicts ever more frequently limiting the rights of speech and publication.
Lamond wiggled his nose as he thought over her premise. “Peut-être.”
Maybe?
Her mind ran back to the fellow whom she discovered tracking her this morning. “What did he look like?”
“Black hair. Tall. Skinny as a pole.”
Her fellow or not?“Did he leave his name?”
