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“Dupree has an excellent memory for detail. He posted a reward for both of you this morning with full descriptions.”

“Citizeness Justice?” Jean Marc asked.

“Mademoiselle de Clement,” Francois said. “It’s the only name by which Dupree knows her.”

Jean Marc’s gaze shifted with sudden intentness to Juliette. “Why Citizeness Justice?”

“It’s only a name Dupree found it amusing to call me. But that’s not important.” Juliette frowned. “Then Dupree can’t know we’re in Paris.”

Francois nodded. “Which is why it’s safe to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“Georges Jacques is going to arrange to intercede with Marat to have Dupree sent out of the city as soon as possible. He’s the only man who can recognize you.”

“There’s a courtyard of men who can recognize me. You recognized me.”

“The Marseilles were busier at that moment than I.”

Juliette’s stomach clenched as she remembered the tasks that had occupied those men in the courtyard. “Yes, very busy.”

“They’re still busy.” Francois’s lips set grimly. “I’m sure in a few days the events at the abbey will blur into one red haze.”

Juliette’s gaze flew to his face. “Dear God, more?”

Francois nodded. “After they left the abbey that morning they marched on La Force . They killed the Princess de Lambelle, stuck her head on a pike, and carried it to the Temple to show it to Marie Antoinette.”

Juliette swallowed bile. Her mother had always hated the gentle princess who had given the queen her love and loyalty since girlhood. Juliette had not understood the woman’s high-strung delicacy but never questioned the princess’s genuine affection for Her Majesty.

“You should not have told her,” Philippe said. “Can’t you see how it’s upset her?”

“The queen?” Juliette asked. “Did they kill the queen?”

“No, the Temple is well guarded. None of the royal family was hurt.”

Relief rushed through Juliette. The queen and Louis Charles were still alive. “How disappointed those butchers must have been.”

Francois avoided her glance. “Marat won’t permit Dupree to be sent away until he’s satisfied that his job is done. You must not step foot out of the house until there isn’t the least possibility you could encounter him.”

“Is bribery feasible?” Jean Marc asked.

“Not now. Perhaps later.”

“So we’re to stay here until Dupree is sent out of Paris?

” Juliette tried to gather her thoughts into some kind of order.

“I don’t like it. There are too many residences around the square and we can’t stay here very long in secret.

No matter how careful we are, people are bound to realize we’re in the house. ”

Jean Marc thought for a moment and then said, “I can tell Robert to put it about that Philippe came from Vasaro to be of assistance to his two sisters who were forced to flee from their homes in the north after the Prussians took Verdun.”

“It’s possible,” Francois said. “Providing no official inquiry is undertaken regarding them.” He turned to Philippe. “You’ll stay here to lend the story credence?”

Philippe nodded. “Of course. I’ll stay as long as I’m needed.”

“Catherine won’t want you here,” Juliette said. “She does not wish to see you.”

“I’ll stay out of her way.” Philippe’s tone was firm. “But my place is here helping Jean Marc and Catherine to—”

“The story will have to do for the time being,” Jean Marc said. “You’ll let me know if there’s any danger, Etchelet?”

“I assure you neither Georges Jacques nor I wish to have the women apprehended. It would be a distinct embarrassment.” Francois turned toward the door. “I’ll inform you when Dupree has left Paris.”

“Wait.” Juliette took a step forward. “That’s not enough. Philippe is a stranger in Paris and it may be known that Jean Marc’s ward was at the abbey. It’s you who must lend our presence here credence. You must be well known if you work for Danton. Call on us at least every other day.”

“I have no time for—”

“Call on us as frequently as possible and stay but briefly.” She smiled mockingly. “Do wear one of your tricolored cockades so that everyone can see how loyal to the government the members of this household must be. A fine revolutionary gentleman like yourself should be displaying one anyway.”

He met her gaze. “I don’t have to wear my convictions on my hat.”

“It won’t hurt you to do so for the next few weeks. Don’t worry, we don’t want to see you any more than you do us. Have Marie show you to the garden and spend the time in contemplation.” Her smile faded. “Yes, contemplate why you were at the Abbaye de la Reine.”

He gazed at her silently for a moment. “I may drop in occasionally if I’m in the neighborhood.”

He turned and left the salon.

“Wait.” Juliette suddenly remembered something and followed him into the foyer. To her surprise, she found him standing at the foot of the curving staircase, looking up.

“How is she?” he asked in a low tone.

“Not good. How do you expect her to be? She dreams and wakes up screaming. She won’t eat or—” Juliette drew a deep breath and tried to regain her control. “This man I killed, who was he?”

“A Marseilles. His name was Etienne Malpan.”

“Do you know what he looked like?”

“Yes.”

“Describe him.”

“Dead.”

“Very amusing.”

“I find death lends a certain anonymity of appearance to everyone. Why are you suddenly so curious about his looks?”

“It was dark in the tomb and Catherine couldn’t see who attacked her. She said they had no faces and for some reason it bothers her.”

“So you’re trying to put faces to them for her?” He was silent a moment. “Etienne Malpan was fair, about forty, a big, beefy man.”

“I remember he was large. What color were his eyes?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Find out.”

“I’m to go to the graveyard and, providing they haven’t buried him yet, have them pry open his lids?”

“She needs a face, a complete face. You don’t impress me as being overly squeamish.”

Francois shook his head. “Do you never give up?”

“She needs a face.”

Francois opened the door.

“Will you do it?”

“Stop badgering me.”

The slam of the door echoed in the high-ceilinged hall.

“You should be more cautious. He’s a dangerous man.”

Juliette turned to see a frowning Philippe behind her in the foyer.

“I asked a few questions about Etchelet when I was trying to locate his lodgings. He’s well known among the representatives of the assembly.”

“Well known in what way?”

“He’s nominally Danton’s agent and clerk, but that’s not his primary duty.”

“I’m not surprised. He didn’t impress me as a clerk.”

“He gathers information for Danton.”

“A spy?”

“He also intimidates. He’s fought five duels in the past two years, all with men Danton found convenient to have out of the way. Needless to say, he was not content merely to inflict token wounds to have honor satisfied.”

That information didn’t surprise her either. “He’ll not challenge me to a duel. Nor do I have any important information he can steal.”

“Two of those duels concerned women. Etchelet presumably seduced the women in order to prod his prey into challenging him so that he would have the choice of weapons.” Philippe shook his head. “None of it was honorably done.”

“That he used the women to get what he wanted?” Juliette could not see Etchelet in the role of seducer.

In spite of his physical attractiveness, he radiated a blunt honesty that seemed at odds with the deceit needed for such schemes.

“But did you not do the same? How else did you get those gowns Robert brought to my chamber.”

“That was different,” Philippe protested. “I merely explained my need to the ladies in the shop.”

He believed what he was saying, Juliette realized with amazement. Philippe had merely charmed and cajoled and smiled sweetly and the deed was done. “At which shop did you purchase them?”

“Julie Lamartine’s. I remembered Jean Marc uses her to clothe his—” Philippe stopped and then continued lamely. “She’ll begin fitting you both with a complete wardrobe as soon as I provide her with your present measurements.”

He had gone to the shop where Jean Marc sent his mistresses.

Juliette felt a sudden jab of pain. No, it couldn’t have been pain.

She was tired and confused. All rich men had mistresses, and most courtesans had better taste in fashion than wives.

The dressmaker would do very well to outfit Catherine before she left Paris.

“I’ll have Catherine’s measurements for you tomorrow. ”

Philippe nodded. “And yours.”

“I can make do with one of Marie’s gowns.”

“My sisters would not be ill dressed.”

Juliette’s gaze traveled over his impeccable attire, and she was forced to smile, albeit faintly. “I can see how you would be filled with shame at such ignominy.” She started up the stairs. “Very well, you’ll have my measurements too.”

She had almost reached the landing when she heard Jean Marc’s voice behind her. “Juliette.”

She glanced down to see Jean Marc standing in the doorway of the salon and unconsciously tensed. “Yes?”

His dark eyes narrowed on her face. “Why Citizeness Justice?” he asked softly.

Juliette quickly glanced away. “I told you it wasn’t important.”

“No? I’m beginning to wonder just what you do consider important.”

“My painting. Catherine.”

“And nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

Jean Marc’s lips were lifted in a faint smile, and there was something in his expression that was both intimate and challenging.

She became suddenly aware of the physical presence he exuded, the wideness of his shoulders beneath the smooth fit of his gray coat, the sinewy muscles of his thighs outlined by the clinging doeskin of his trousers, the flatness of his belly.

She found herself gazing at him in helpless fascination unable to look away.

His intent gaze held hers for another moment. “How interesting. And challenging. We really must attempt to widen your horizons.” He turned and strode back into the salon.

Her breath expelled in a little rush as if his departure had forced its release.

“Did you ask if she’d see me?”