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So much for keeping his business brief. She sighed.

His dark eyes critically scanned the entire room twice before finally settling on her. He tilted his head. “I do not particularly care for blonde women, but your spirit reminds me of a character I have in mind for a book I am writing.” He twirled his hat, eyeing her. “I hear incredibly scandalous things about you, madame. Are they true?”

“When one is as popular as I,
citoyen
,” she countered, “men begin to make up stories that allow them to feel important when I turn them away. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes. It does.” The older gentleman set his felt hat beside him. Opening his coat, he removed a calling card from its inner pocket and held it out between gloved fingers. He continued to hold the card out.

Knowing full well he expected her to cross the room for it, she sighed and did exactly that. Pausing before him, she reached out to take it.

He jerked it back.

She straightened and gave him a pointed look.

He tapped the edge of the card against his lips. “Sit beside me, Madame. You and I have a few things to discuss.”

Why were men so predictable? She turned and seated herself beside him, ensuring there was an arm’s length between them. She set her hands on her thighs, just above where her blade was hidden beneath her robe and undergarments.

Sade kept tapping the card against his bottom lip, inspecting her. “The stench of vomit you so cleverly hoped to erase with your perfume still clings to the air. Are you not well?”

She inwardly cringed. Someone was overly observant. “I am much better, thank you. The meal I ate earlier tonight before going on stage did not sit well with me. Too much…pea soup.”

“You poor creature. Pea soup ought to be banned.” He turned his wrist toward her, presenting his card. “I am here to inform the
duc
’s dashing blue-eyed heir who is ‘hiding’ behind the screen that I am on to you both and have been for about a week. I simply was not expecting your ‘benefactor’ to appear on the same night I planned to talk to you about it.”

Her eyes widened. He knew!

Sade glanced toward the screen and lifted a grey brow. “I suggest you come out.”

Gérard swept aside the screen, sending it clattering to the floor. He stared the man down from where he stood, perfume bottle still in hand. He widened his stance. “To what do I owe this honor,
Citoyen
?”

“The honor, I assure you, is all mine. The perfume bottle says it all.” Sade smirked and wagged the card at Thérèse, signaling impatiently she had best take the card.

She groaned and tugged it from his fingers.

Sade continued to intently observe Gérard. “You may find this difficult to believe, but I admire what you are attempting to do. As such, if you help me,
mon grande
, I will help you. Why? Because I do not particularly care for the direction this new government is taking. Mass death is but the beginning of what these mouth-breathers have planned. Not a single church or even the word
God
will be allowed to stand by the time they are done. For God no longer exists in their eyes. God, after all, is the reason they all suffer. And whilst I myself am well known for being incredibly partial to allowing for freedoms most deem too demented to be allowed, the moment we allocate death to even God, it means
nothing
remains. Not even the glory of pain. Which…pardon the expression…
pains
me.”

Rising from the chaise, he angled his hat onto his frayed wigged head and announced in a low, low tone that dripped with malevolence, “I am and will always be at heart an aristocrat despite my having denounced my name and title of Marquis. The only reason any of these men trust me is because I have spent half my life in prison under
letters de cachet
, which as you know, is the royal decree of imprisoning a man without trial. Hardly fair. To them, I am a glorified martyr of the
ancien régime
and have set a good example of rising against its overall conventions. And whilst, yes, I am endlessly touched by their new endearing trust in me—” his tone turned lethal, “—I fucking despise every last one of them so much I would gladly rape and whip their women to death and do it all over again.”

Thérèse swallowed and edged back against the chaise, sensing he meant it.

Sade eyed them both, his dark, playful eyes penetrating the space. “Allow me to get to the point of this visit. I will give you both whatever information you want, when you want it and how you want it. In return you will both help me write a book. Because I am struggling with trying to give it meaning. It lacks a certain…
substance
.”

Thérèse lowered her chin. Was he serious? “Are you referring to an actual book?”

Sade’s full lips curved. “But, of course,
my puce
. I am first and foremost a writer. The more I observe, the more I am able to write. How do you think I survived prison?”

Gérard narrowed his gaze. “You are about to be elected into the same committee and section as Robespierre. How am I to trust you?”

Sade rolled his eyes. “Do toss aside being coy, my dear boy. Trust has nothing to do with this. Ask yourself
why
I did not already report you and your actress given you and she are busy shuffling people out of the country like coyotes herding sheep.”

Gérard stared. “How the hell do you know? I have been impeccably—”

“Careful. Yes, I am well aware of that. But you and I share a mutual friend: Naudet.” He tapped his lips with a forefinger. “Did you know that gruff, burly, quiet and dependable man of yours
loves
being sodomized and whipped so damn much, and so damn hard, he tells me everything? And I do mean…
everything
.”

Thérèse cringed and lifted a hand to the side of her face so she wouldn’t have to look at Gérard. It was
always
the quiet ones.

Gérard hissed out a long breath. “So you and Naudet are—”

“Involved. Yes. Naudet is my whipping whore. Marvelous man. His oversized back can take a four-inch whip with nails embedded into it without even flinching. And he comes to me each and every week because I know how to make him flinch. I ask you not blame the oaf for what I know. Pleasure and pain have a tendency to tap into the brain a bit too much. I was asking him questions about his life during a session and it simply rolled out.”

Gérard threw back his head and groaned.

With the self-satisfied smack of lips, Sade rounded them. “Given there is a clear issue of distrust between us, which I completely understand, allow me to toss a branch of my genuine offer of reliance by sharing a sliver of what I know and what I can share.” He cracked his knuckles, one by one. “This has yet to be announced to the public, but the upcoming trial of
Sa Majesté
has been set and will take place this December third. A full thirty-three charges will be set against him.”

Startled, Thérèse met Gérard’s gaze.

Gérard quickly stalked toward the man. “Thirty-three charges? How can there even be that many?! Christ, he— Are they mad?”

Sade inclined his head. “Oh, yes. They are, in fact, loons. Every last one of them. Why do you think they are about to put me on the committee?” He let out a self-pleasured, over-enthused laugh, rolling both hands as if listening to applause. “Of course,
Citoyen
Robespierre, bless his missing heart, is what I call the ultimate loon of a lawyer in the guise of death itself. Given all of the charges set against
Sa Majesté
it most certainly will result in deportation or death, and I know deportation is not an option. That would be too risky for the stability of our new government and allow uprisings this country does not need. Which means…most votes will go toward overseeing
Sa Majesté’s
head in a basket; so, whilst it is endearing for you to think you can save him, more than a few royalists have already tried, and they are all
dead, dead, dead
.

“You would need an army of about two hundred. Because forty guards are outside the king’s doors and a hundred more are inside overseeing several iron doors. They have orders to butcher anyone who even walks down the corridor leading toward any of those doors. Which means…
Sa Majesté
will stand trial and die.”

Gérard closed his eyes and staggered.

Disbelief punched Thérèse. Oh, God. He was barely standing.

Scrambling to her feet, she hurried over to him and grabbed him, wrapping her arms around his waist in an attempt to keep him from falling. Tears stung her eyes knowing his godfather was the one person he wanted to save out of all of this. It was the sole reason why they had created their alliance.

Citoyen
de Sade heaved out a soft breath. “You have my condolences.” Setting his shoulders, he rounded the room, glancing at everything as he walked. He strode over to the vase, paused, peered into it and wrinkled his sharp nose. “Life is anything but pretty. It reeks.”

She smoothed her trembling hands across Gérard’s linen shirt. “I am so sorry,” she choked out. “I know what he means to you.”

Gérard set her head against his chest and mashed her cheek against his broad chest. “The Assembly will not even let me see him. I tried.” His voice was half-smothered. “I failed him. I…”

She tightened her hold, knowing this strong man was breaking. “There must be a way for you to see him,” she gently offered. “If only once.”

Rounding them, Sade peered in. “Unfortunately no, madame. Too many attempts to rescue him have banned his right to visitors. However, he
would
be permitted a one-sentence missive. It would be reviewed by five men before being delivered into the king’s hands. As long as the missive passes the approval of public safety and is free of any mischief, it would be delivered directly to the king. But that would only be allowed prior to the trial. Not during or after. So I suggest you do it soon. It would have to be written in the next week.”

Gérard released Thérèse and scrubbed his face in a clear effort to rid himself of any emotion. He dropped his hands, revealing an anguished, tear-streaked face. He sniffed hard, turned away and half-nodded. “Better a one-sentence farewell than nothing at all.”

“I will ensure it gets the extra nudge it needs.” Sade inclined his wigged head. “Whilst I cannot assist in saving your godfather or his family, I can continue to share whatever information you require. Though I honestly cannot say for how much longer. There are several ongoing debates in the chamber right now about Robespierre, Danton and seven others forming a committee for public safety.”

Sade turned toward them. “Which means
no one
in this country will be safe. Not even me. So I suggest we make use of each other whilst we still can. For whilst you, Madame de Maitenon, are not in any danger given your newfound popularity with the Republic and on stage, I am afraid your uh…son of
duc
will eventually find his way to the guillotine given his father is so closely related to
Sa Majesté
. All but three days ago, Robespierre announced plans to take the
duc’s
money, his lands, and apply all funds into the new government. And in order to do that, he will have to make an example of the
duc
by creating a long list of charges. They have yet to decide what those charges will be, but rest assured, these greedy little
chévres
always come up with something. Your father’s neck and your neck will be theirs. Count on it.”

Overwhelmed and half-panicked, Thérèse grabbed Gérard’s arm.

He dragged in uneven breaths. “I knew things were getting worse. I have seen the changes on the streets. My father and I recently dismissed our servants in an effort to keep them from harm.” He hesitated. “How much time do I have before the charges are set? Do you know?”

Sade tsked, wagging a large forefinger. “I do believe I have already supplied you far more than you have supplied me. Are you ready to negotiate?”

Dread seized Thérèse sensing whatever this Sade wanted would not be good.

Gérard squeezed her hand and released her, fully turning to Sade. “What do you want?”

Those dark eyes brightened.
Citoyen
de Sade smoothed his lace cravat twice. “Not very much. A mere bit of inspiration. A one-time affair. Hardly anything.”

Gérard narrowed his gaze. “What do you want? Say it.”

Sade grinned, his gaze skimming Gérard from queue to boot. “I was hoping to get a private showing of you and your actress…oh…how shall I say this politely?
Fucking.
I need a few sketches for my upcoming book, and I rather envision the both of you in it. Publication is set for this June.”

Thérèse gasped.

Gérard stared at the man. “Allow me to respond to your offer,
citoyen
.” Leaning toward her, Gérard drawled, “Pardon me,
ma biche
. You may want to close your eyes.”

Gérard swept out a dagger attached to the inner leather belt of his waist hidden beneath his coat. Stalking over to Sade, he angled the large blade out. Jumping forward, he grabbed the man by the throat hard and whipped him toward the nearest wall, causing the entire room to shake as Sade’s hat and periwig tumbled off to the side.

Thérèse flinched.

Citoyen
de Sade burst into maniacal laughter despite the blade now resting dangerously against his throat. He gleefully tapped at the edge of the blade with a gloved hand. “Oh, yes, yes, yes. Do go and slit my throat in a theatre, no less. How
whimsical
! I can see all of the pamphleteers yelling it already, ‘
Marquis de Sade murdered for nothing
!’”

Sade’s aged, sharp features almost twitched from continued amusement. Leaning far forward against the blade, he drawled, “Are you really
that
opposed to giving an artist something to write about? You mean to say you prefer death itself over supporting the arts? How demented are you?”

Gérard’s hand visibly trembled as the dagger almost scraped that face.