Page 49 of Lord Appleby's Gorgeous Imposter
Chapter Ten
May 8, 1803
Passy, Paris
Two mornings later,as Viv sat at her little breakfast table, she received a note from Gaspard with the address of the scullery maid in Passy. It was Sunday, a day for rest, but she could not let that stop her.
She sent her footman immediately to Tate’s house to notify him of her receipt of the address.Please come, she had written. Those two words, she knew, he would take as acceptance of his help and her need for him. So, yes, that much she did want from him. She would wait to declare what else, if anything, she must do to satisfy herself before she gave in to his plea to leave Paris.
Within minutes, via his own footman, Tate responded with a note.I will arrive at nine o’clock at rue du Bac. You will never walk alone anywhere ever again. Loving regards, Tate.
He called for her on time, and they left immediately. “I hired a public cab for us. No need for us to be flamboyantly conspicuous.”
“You’re right,” she said as she took his hand and climbed up into the fiacre. As hired carriages went in Paris, this one was relatively new and clean. But the street was crowded with servants and shop people shouting as they loaded and unloadedlorries. “What is going on here? I’ve never seen Parisians so loud and irritable.”
Tate sat opposite her, his jade eyes so beautiful and consoling. “They are frightened.”
Fear crawled up her spine. “Of what?”
“The end of the peace.”
She took another look at the throngs. “Now? Today?”
“Within days, certainly. The British ambassador plans to leave Paris.”
“And what of your friend, Lord Ashley?”
“He and his wife have departed. Another I cannot find this morning. His majordom has not seen him since yesterday. I worry what has happened to him. So you see, if a favored diplomat can disappear in this city, others can too.”
“You?”
“Why not? I have my passport papers ready, but I am uneasy, as they may be worth less than the paper they are written on.” He stared at her, stiff and forbidding, with more warnings unuttered. “I will not repeat myself and become a nag.”
She was grateful he did not harangue her once more about leaving. He did know when to leave off. She turned her face fully to the window and viewed the results of the animosity between Bonaparte and the English ambassador. Some in the street were cross with their servants. A few yelled in English. Others in French. Women dabbed at tears as their trunks were loaded onto the backs of traveling coaches. Dogs ran amok from house to shop and toward the Seine.
Viv pulled the collar of her pelisse up her throat. She caught the fright of those trying to run for safety. “I am glad we do this today, Tate, and I am thankful you come with me.”
The carriage wound along the Seine and south away from it, into smaller and dirtier alleys. Tate nodded to her as if to imply he understood her concern at the change of circumstances here.
The air grew foul, thick with the odors of wine and decaying vegetables, urine, and the detritus of human life.
Tate frowned. From his waistcoat pocket he dug out a metal object and slid it over his knuckles.
She stared at him in awe.
“This turns the odds in my favor.”
Undoubtedly.One swing of his fist and a jaw could break.
He shifted in his seat then leaned over and patted his boot.
Something else there?
She blew out a breath. A knife, she imagined. “Have you spotted the one who follows me?”
Tate winced. “I have.”
She’d pondered who her shadows might be and what they wanted. “If he is going to steal from me or abduct me, he has had many chances.”
