The Seducer (6 page)

Monsieur Johnson must have seen Margot’s appreciation. He took her arm and politely but firmly disengaged her, to continue walking.

“A friend from school?” Daniel asked as they headed back to the carriage. “It must be pleasant to see her again after meeting so many strangers.”

“Very pleasant.” She pictured Margot’s jewelry and gown. “M’sieur Johnson is not her husband, is he?”

“No. My sister can explain such things to you.”

She suspected that Daniel, as a man, could explain them better. “I wonder why not. He appeared affectionate. Actually, he looked captivated.”

“There are many reasons for such arrangements. He may already have a wife, who is ill, or insane, or cold. Or far away, an Oriental bride. Or perhaps he does not find your friend suitable for marriage.”

She thought of the feminine attention Daniel had received this day. She guessed that some of those women had been his Margots. Maybe the last one still was. Only he had not been as enthralled with them as Monsieur Johnson had been with Margot. “Do you have a wife who is ill or far away?”

“Your question is impertinent. But, no, I do not.”

“Then you must be one of the men who has not found a woman suitable for marriage.”

They reached the carriage. “I am a man who considers himself unsuitable. In declining to marry, I am saving some woman a great deal of misery.”

chapter
6

T
he wardrobe arrived. So did the invitations.

The garments made all the difference. Jeanette’s friends began treating her as more than a child and became less guarded in their conversation. One day Daniel accompanied her to the Tuileries again and this time the men flattered her and the women eyed her more closely. Someone who wore fine millinery was no longer insignificant.

Only Daniel did not seem to notice. She might have still been in sacks and braids for all the attention he paid her. He was always polite, but one would have thought the intimacy in the carriage had never occurred.

Despite her newly purchased status, she did not really feel comfortable at the salons and dinners that she attended with Jeanette. And so, when Margot’s letter arrived, inviting Diane to visit, she was grateful for the opportunity to spend some time with an old friend.

Dressed in her yellow muslin, she went down to Jeanette’s sitting room to tell her hostess of her plans for the afternoon. She found Daniel there with his sister. An unpleasant mood permeated the room, as if she had walked in on an argument.

“You look lovely, Diane,” Jeanette said, giving her an appreciative appraisal. “Doesn’t she look lovely, Daniel?”

He stood by the window, half-blocking its light, looking out. He glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, very lovely.”

“I think that I will stay in today, Diane,” Jeanette said. “The last week has exhausted me. You won’t mind, will you?”

“Not at all. As it happens, I received an invitation from a friend and would like to call on her. She lives nearby and I think that I will walk.”

That pulled Daniel out of his distraction. “You intend to visit Margot? I do not think that is appropriate.” His tone implied that the matter was settled and she would not make her visit.

“I appreciate your concern, m’sieur, but Margot and I will be talking about old times, not new ones. I think that I have intruded on a conversation, so I will leave now and return in a few hours.” She let
her
tone convey that she would indeed make her visit, even if it displeased him.

“You intruded on nothing important,” Daniel said. “In fact, we were discussing you. I will be attending the opera tonight, and you will accompany me. Please be back from your visit in time to prepare for it. Also, if you are walking there, take a servant as an escort.”

Diane took her leave, glad to escape the tense mood in the sitting room. She doubted that they had really been discussing her. She truly was unimportant and would not account for an argument.

She also could not ignore that she had not been invited by Daniel to attend the opera, but ordered to do so.

The crowds at the Palais Royale irritated Gustave Dupré. He had been spoiled by the way the war had thinned the population of Paris. Now, with peace, with defeat, the classical arcades surrounding the gardens bulged with not only French but also English and Prussians of every class. In particular, it appeared that the soldiers of the occupying army had nothing to do except stroll through Paris. On a fine day such as this, with the sun alleviating the northern bite still in the air, it would be difficult to find a seat in a cafe or on a bench in the gardens.

It surprised him, therefore, to spy several empty benches. They were in a prized spot, too, where one could watch the fashionable ladies stroll close by, but be spared the noise from the restaurants. Only one man sat on the middle one, reading a book.

Gustave hurried over and settled himself on the stone seat. Cane upright between his knees to support his hands, he basked in the sun. He tried to do that every day it shone. He was convinced that it stimulated his mind.

Today he also hoped that it would calm him. Before tomorrow came, he would know if he was right about that manuscript he had bought from St. John. He would know if his life would change forever.

Two lovely, young women approached. Gustave waited for them to take the free bench, or perhaps even sit on his. To his surprise, something made them turn away.

Gustave checked his garments. Perhaps his breeches . . .

“You are not falling out, Dupré. It is me they avoid.”

Gustave’s head snapped around. The face of the man sitting on the next bench lifted out of the book that he read. Framed with strands of long dark hair and decorated with an old-fashioned mustache, it broke into a cynical smile.

No wonder all of these benches had been left useless. Gustave began collecting himself, to rise and go.

“Don’t be an insufferable hypocrite,” his neighbor snarled. “It would be unwise to insult me.”

Gustave froze. He eased back down. He gazed toward the arcade with determination, so that anyone watching would know that he was not welcoming any association with the man on his left.

“No greeting, Dupré? No acknowledgment, for old time’s sake?”

“I do not greet traitors.”

“My, you draw some very fine lines. No doubt your rational analysis has found a way to put some things in one category and similar ones in another.”

“Do not try to drag me into your current fall, Hercule. Everyone knows that you sold information to the English. It is why even they despise you now. They gladly took what you offered, but they will have nothing to do with a man so dishonorable.”

“Napoleon was going mad, Gustave. He was going to destroy France in his hunger for power. The man who went to Elba was not the same man whom we made emperor. He had lost all notion of reality.”

“So, you are a physician now.”

“I am a soldier who worshiped a hero, only to watch him become a tyrant. I do not regret what I did. For one thing, it means that I can always find plenty of room wherever I go these days.”

Gustave almost snapped that Hercule had not done any of it for France. He had done it in a perverted quest for glory. He had been stupid enough to think that the English would celebrate him when it was all over. “How you can dare to stay in Paris, where everyone knows, is beyond me.”

“I stay in Paris to try and learn how it is that everyone knows. I dealt with only one man, a colonel who died at Waterloo. I am curious to know with whom he spoke, and who betrayed me.”

Gustave tapped his cane with irritation. He rose, assuming that leaving now would not be the insult Hercule had threatened about. “Good day to you. If we meet again, do not expect me to address you.”

“Of course not. After twenty-four years, there is no reason for that to change.” Hercule’s laugh followed Gustave as he walked away. So did his final question. “Oh, I forgot to ask you, Dupré. How does your famous library grow?”

Margot’s house was small but attractive, in a good neighborhood not too far from Daniel’s. Margot herself appeared beautiful and mature in a blue dress and silver necklace.
Property and jewels, secured to you.
Whether Margot had ever received Madame Leblanc’s instructions, she had clearly followed them.

Diane sent her escort back to Jeanette’s house. She and Margot spent an hour reminiscing, then decided to walk in a nearby park.

“I have brought you here because I want you to see something,” Margot said. “I meet a new friend here sometimes. Her name is Marie. There she is, with those two children. Marie is a governess to the family of a man attached to the English government.”

“From your tone one would think she is dead.”

“She may as well be. We only speak here, since she is never free to call on friends or receive them. She cares for those children morning until night, and after they go to bed she is given other work, darning and such. When I left the school I was a governess for several months, so I know of what I speak. Fortunately, I met M’sieur Johnson one day in a park like this and was rescued.”

“Then Madame Oiseau did not arrange for you to know M’sieur Johnson?”

“That bird of prey? She offered, but the girls who make use of her service get much less, since their protectors are also paying Madame. In fact, I was insulted and shocked by her suggestion. Three months living Marie’s life and the shock wore off.”

Diane tried to picture herself in this governess’s place. The notion of no time to herself, of little contact with other people, dismayed her. For one thing, how could she ask about her relatives if she never spoke with anyone?

She tried to convince herself that Marie’s drab appearance had no effect on her reaction, but she found herself fingering her buttery muslin beneath her cloak.

An English officer approached Marie. Whatever he said got an immediate reaction. She turned abruptly and began marching her charges away. The officer’s laugh could be heard all the way to where Diane stood.

“Of course, some of the men one meets in gardens are not gentlemen, whatever their births. Some are not so considerate as M’sieur Johnson,” Margot warned. “It is important to be able to tell the difference.”

Margot turned the conversation to more pleasant topics. They discussed shops and milliners, and Diane described the wardrobe that had arrived. Margot raised her eyebrows appreciatively at the litany of luxury.

Margot took her hand and began walking out of the park. “We must return. I have invited a few friends to meet you and they have probably arrived already. Englishmen, as you requested.”

A small group of carriages lined the street outside Margot’s house. One looked too familiar. It belonged to Daniel, and Daniel himself lounged against it.

“M’sieur St. John has come to collect you himself. That is
very
considerate and gentlemanly. And, like the rich gifts that you have been describing, unnecessary.”

“Perhaps he thought I would be late returning. We are to attend the theater tonight.”

Margot’s eyebrows went up again.

“I must go now.”

“No. Come in and meet my friends.”

“I should—”

“Come in. Let him wait.”

Margot did not invite Daniel in. She barely acknowledged him. She ushered Diane into the house, where her friends were drinking wine.

They were an attractive assortment of young people. The four men were English. Monsieur Johnson was not present.

Margot drew Diane to a bench seat in front of the window. Glancing over her shoulder, Diane could see Daniel still leaning against the door of his carriage. Margot brought over one of the men and practically pushed him into place on the bench too.

Margot introduced him as Monsieur Vergilius Duclairc, the brother of an English viscount, then left them alone.

Monsieur Duclairc was a young man, and handsome in a dark, roughly chiseled way, with startling blue eyes.

“Do you live in Paris like these other countrymen of yours?” Diane gestured to the three other men fawning over the women.

“I am only visiting for a short while, to view the sites and attend the theater. I am not one of the vultures who has come to feast on your defeated nation, mam’selle.”

To feast on the women made desperate due to that defeat, his tone promised.

“Do you know Margot well?”

“We met through friends a few days ago and she was kind enough to invite me today.”

Diane glanced to where Margot, despite her conversation, was keeping an eye on the window seat. “To meet me?”

“I do not know. It appears that may have been her intention, doesn’t it?”

Yes, it did. First Madame Oiseau, and now Margot. Perhaps her friend thought of it as a form of salvation.

Monsieur Duclairc certainly was up to Margot’s standards. Diane’s speculated on what it would be like to be his Margot. She felt her face getting red and an unpleasant sensation knotting her stomach.

“I think it was to meet me so that I could ply you with questions. I will be going to London soon, to take a position as a governess.”

“If you have questions about the city, I will be glad to answer them.”

“Those are not the sort of questions I mean. I will also be looking for someone’s family. Perhaps you have heard of them. The name is Albret.”

“Your name. Your relatives?”

“Yes.”

“I do not recall ever meeting or hearing of someone with that name. I am very sorry. Is it a London family?”

“I do not know for sure. One of their sons was in shipping. Perhaps, as the brother of a viscount, you did not move in the same circles.”

“Perhaps. However, there are ways to search for people if one knows the names. The owner of a ship would have to file certain documents. If he bought insurance, the brokers would have the location of his home, for example. That would be a place to start.”

Monsieur Duclairc appeared interested in the idea of unlocking a puzzle. Diane asked him how to locate the brokers who insure ships.

As he began replying, a hush fell over the room and his voice suddenly sounded very loud. A shadow loomed in front of them. She looked up, right into the crisply annoyed face of Daniel St. John.

Monsieur Duclairc appeared startled for an instant. Then a smile broke. “St. John. A happy surprise to see you. I did not know you were in Paris.”

Daniel’s own smile could have cut steel. “Nor I you, Duclairc. I see that you have met my cousin.”