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“I didn’t say that.” Francois looked at Jean Marc. “A rather expensive solution when waiting a short time might accomplish the same goal. Why?”

“It’s become necessary.”

“Why?” Francois repeated.

“Catherine…” Jean Marc frowned slightly before continuing. “Catherine is very likely with child.”

Francois remained expressionless. “I thought as much. So she must have a husband. Why not your nephew? He seems to be willing. I can’t believe you’d choose me over a member of your own family.”

“I admit Philippe was my first thought. You heard Juliette. Catherine won’t have him.”

“Why not?” Francois asked Juliette.

“Catherine has a tendre for him. She wishes to save him from the stigma of wedding a woman of shame. However, you’re nothing to her and will do very well.” She shrugged. “We’ll tell her Jean Marc ‘bought’ you.”

“Like a jeweled fan or a feathered bonnet?” Francois asked ironically. “I don’t believe I’m overfond of your choice of words, Mademoiselle de Clement.”

“This is no time for quibbling over words. Jean Marc is buying you and the price is generous. Will you do it?”

Francois was silent.

“Give him more money, Jean Marc.”

“You’re very eager to spend my livres. I don’t believe it’s greed that’s causing Monsieur Etchelet to hesitate, Juliette.” Jean Marc sipped his wine. “Let the man think about it.”

“But we need him. You know that Catherine needs him.”

Francois glanced down at the wine in his glass. “I haven’t seen Mademoiselle Vasaro for some time. Is she no better?”

“No, she grows more withdrawn every day and she…” Juliette faltered and then tried to steady her voice.

“She doesn’t even know she’s with child.

If she did, I’m not sure…” She took a deep breath.

“You saw her. She cannot bear any more pain. She must be protected. You must protect her.” She turned to Jean Marc. “Give him more money.”

Jean Marc shrugged. “Eight hundred thousand livres.”

Francois remained silent, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Why are you hesitating?” Juliette asked. “You’ll be rich and your Danton will be safe.”

Francois didn’t answer for an instant, and Juliette once more opened her lips to speak.

Francois held up his hand. “Enough.”

“You’ll wed her?”

Francois smiled mockingly. “How can I resist? As Monsieur Andreas knows, every man wishes to be rich.”

Juliette breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s settled, then.”

“If you can persuade Mademoiselle Vasaro to accept me,” Francois said gravely.

“Catherine. Her name is Catherine. You’re more formal than that pompous Comtesse de Noailles. Everyone at Versailles called her Madame Etiquette.”

“I’ve been taught well to give proper respect to my betters.”

“You think you have no betters,” Juliette scoffed. She stood up. “I’ll go talk to Catherine.”

“I wish to see her myself,” Francois said.

“Tomorrow. Call on her tomorrow. Give her time to become accustomed to the idea.”

A silence fell after she had left the room. “I don’t begrudge Catherine the dowry, Monsieur Etchelet,” Jean Marc said softly, “but I’ll expect good value for my money. I detest being cheated.”

“You think I’ll cheat you?”

Jean Marc gazed at him thoughtfully. “I believe you’re more than you appear to be.”

“Are we not all more than we appear to be…Jean Marc.”

Jean Marc noted both the familiarity and the mockery of Francois’s tone and nodded slowly. “I think you should be made aware that I am very fond of Catherine. I should be most unhappy if Juliette’s solution proved an unhappy one for my cousin.”

“You shall get what you paid for.” Francois met his gaze. “But I will be no puppet for you. I go my own path.”

“Somehow I didn’t think you’d display a predilection for strings.”

Francois rose to his feet and bowed. “Then, since our understanding is complete, I believe it’s time I bid you au revoir until tomorrow.”

Catherine sat as usual on the marble bench in the garden.

Her gaze was fixed dreamily on the border of pink rosebushes beyond the fountain when Francois arrived at the Place Royal.

The sight of her brought back a sudden vivid memory of that afternoon when he had sat opposite her in this garden.

Her gown today was not blue but a simple white muslin with a sash of sunshine yellow.

A matching yellow ribbon held back her hair.

The gaze she turned on him was childlike as he walked toward her down the garden path.

He bowed formally. “Good afternoon, Catherine. Did Mademoiselle de Clem—Juliette—tell you I would call today?”

Catherine nodded, her gaze returning to the roses. “It’s a lovely afternoon, isn’t it? Robert says soon the frosts will come, but it’s difficult to believe on a day such as this.”

“Did she inform you of—” He broke off. Catherine appeared to be paying no attention to him, and he felt something twist within him. She had changed. That afternoon in the garden she had been subdued but still alive and caring. Now she appeared polite but as remote as the stars. “Catherine.”

She glanced at him, her stare vague. “Philippe told me once there are fields and fields of flowers at Vasaro that are beautiful beyond belief, but I scarcely remember them. Did I mention to you that I left there when I was only four? Here the garden is very nice, but I think I should like to see—”

“Catherine, you’re to wed me in two days’ time.” He paused. “If you wish it.”

For a moment the dreaminess vanished from her expression.

“I do not wish it, but Juliette and Jean Marc know what’s best for me.

” She straightened her shoulders and turned away to point to a spot beneath the high stone wall.

“Robert’s going to plant white violets there next spring.

He says they generally grow well, but this year the winter was harsh and killed them.

” She frowned. “Harshness does kill, doesn’t it? ”

“No!” Francois found his fists were clenched and forced himself to relax them. “Not if you fight it. Then it only makes you grow stronger.”

“The violets died.”

“People aren’t flowers.”

“But weren’t we talking about violets?” Catherine asked, puzzled. “Yes, I’m sure we were speaking of violets. I said Robert was planning—”

“I don’t wish to talk of flowers,” Francois interrupted. “I want to know if you—” He started again. “Will you trust me to do what’s best for you?”

“Juliette trusts you, so I suppose I must.”

“No, not Juliette. You.” He took her chin in his fingers and turned her face up so that she was forced to look into his eyes. “You must trust me.” He could sense her withdrawal at his touch like a cold wind blowing through the autumn-shrouded garden.

“I wish you would leave me now. You…disturb me.”

“But you’ll trust me?”

“You and Juliette. Why do you keep pushing at me? Why won’t you realize I wish only to be left alone? I don’t—” She drew away from his hand. “Oh, very well, I’ll trust you. Now will you go away?”

“And you’ll do as I say?”

She nodded jerkily, not looking at him.

Francois drew a deep breath and took a step back. “Then I’ll bid you good day, Catherine.”

“Good day.”

Francois turned on his heel and strode toward the door leading to the house. Before he reached it, Catherine’s gaze was once again fixed dreamily on the last roses of autumn.

Two mornings later at the H?tel de Ville Francois Etchelet posted an announcement of his intention to marry Catherine Vasaro late that same afternoon. At shortly after four, as agreed, he and Danton met Jean Marc and Catherine outside the hall.

“It won’t take long.” Francois didn’t give Catherine more than a passing glance as he took her elbow and threw open the door of the municipal chamber.

Shrill laughter, chatter, the scent of perfume, and unwashed humanity assaulted them as they entered the crowded room.

“I deliberately chose a time when the officials would be busy. The municipal authorities don’t like to waste time, so there will be at least forty marriages conducted at one ceremony this afternoon.

The official makes a short speech and then asks us all whether we wish to marry. We answer yes and it’s over.”

“Interesting. Impersonal but interesting. A veritable Greek chorus of ‘yeses’ portending marital bliss.” Jean Marc’s lips twitched as his gaze fell on a grim-faced, rifle-bearing soldier of the National Guard standing beside an ornate statue of Hymen bearing flowers and a torch.

“And they seem prepared for any eventuality.”

Danton gestured at a long table occupied by several gentlemen busily engaged in perusing and signing documents beneath the upraised pedestal where the municipal official presided. “The contracts, gentlemen. I had them drawn up myself to make sure they’d be in order.”

Jean Marc nodded. “And who would dare question the legality of a document drawn up by the Minister of Justice?”

Danton smiled. “I was sure you’d understand. Shall we get the formalities over with so that we can enjoy seeing these two beautiful children united?”

It took longer for Jean Marc to read and sign the contracts than it did for Catherine and Francois to be joined in marriage.

Jean Marc kept a careful eye on Catherine during the brief ceremony, but she appeared calm and composed and did not look out of place with the other brides in the crowded hall.

Juliette had dressed her in a simple dark blue gown, pulled her hair back in a smooth knot and then tucked it beneath a straw bonnet with a wide brim that shadowed her face.

What was she thinking? Jean Marc wondered.

She had been silent from the moment Juliette had brought her downstairs and given her into his keeping.

It was difficult to know what she was feeling at any time these days.

Juliette was right. Catherine would let no one break through that protective shell to the girl they had once known.

The marriage ceremony was ending and Catherine gave the required assent in a low tone that held no expression.