the crown of Jesus! The subterfuge wouldn’t kill Napoleon’s body, but it would destroy his pretensions to being a republican and make him a laughingstock among the nobles of Europe.
“I slipped our substitute in its place,” Astiza said. “It’s kept in a lacquered and inlayed box. Hopefully, he won’t look and, if he does, won’t notice the switch.”
We had chopped some brambles out of the graveyard and tied them into a circle.
Behind the bed curtains the snoring stopped with a snort, there was a shift, and we feared our unwitting host was waking up.
“Then let’s descend by the rope you doubled, take it with us, and melt into the dark. We’ll steal some plate and porcelain so our priest there will think we’re ordinary thieves.”
“But we didn’t find all the candy!” Harry protested, instinctively copying our anxious whispers.
“Yes we did.” I gave him another piece. “I’ve got it in my pocket. We’ll share it all when we get home.”
The cathedral bells should have rung by the time the sky lightened and we made for the rue du Bac, but the priests of Notre Dame were no doubt looking for fresh rope.
CHAPTER 17
Ethan, can you help me with my petticoat?”
Catherine was calling from her bedroom.
It was a few days after our adventure in the Archbishop’s Palace, and the Crown of Thorns was stored in a hatbox under my own bed. No theft had been reported, and it was unlikely that Cardinal Belloy had noticed our substitution. He was busy working with Pope Pius on the coming coronation. What he thought of finding one of his priests tied up in a carpet, his dog trussed in a cabinet, and a theft of plate and porcelain, was anybody’s guess. Hopefully, he blamed the intrusion on thieves of admirable athleticism. I did notice more sentries posted when I strolled on the opposite side of the Seine the next day, no doubt instructed not to respond to the calls of passing women.
Now the comtesse Marceau wanted my aid in dressing while Astiza and Harry were out shopping. She hadn’t played this game in some time.
“I’m clumsy with buttons and ribbons,” I replied.
“Please, I’m having the most difficult trial. It’s such a sacrifice spying without servants.”
I entered her small bedchamber warily, remembering her seduction in the bath. Catherine became intimate when she was either bored or wanted something. Still, I responded. Should I be dressing a beautiful young woman who was not my wife? No. Was I flattered by this flirtation? Yes. Should I have minded my own business? Of course.
Catherine was sitting on her bed, dressed in a plain white chemise hitched high on her thighs so she could pull up white silk stockings. This gave me a good look at her lovely legs and the pink garters she was fastening there, which was undoubtedly her intention.
“I thought you wanted help with your petticoat.”
“Which is beside me.” She pointed with her chin at the second layer of her ensemble draped on her rumpled covers, her bed still unmade. “I’m not going to let you tie my garters, Ethan. You’re a very bold fellow even to suggest it.”
“I didn’t suggest it, and it’s inappropriate watching you do so.”
She laughed. “This from a man who has seen me in my bath!”
“I didn’t ask for that, either.”
“That’s not how I remember it. Ethan, be adult. We know we’re living on top of each other like a little family, so it’s hardly surprising you’ve seen me dishabille. It’s not my fault you find the female form so troubling.”
“Troubling is not the word I would use.”
“I don’t pretend to understand men at all.” She twisted slightly, giving me a peek of more of her inner thigh, and then stood abruptly, her chemise slipping down over her stockings to make herself the very picture of modesty, except that her nipples poked plain through the fabric, firm as nail heads. Most of the rest of her could be guessed at, too. Her breasts were high, small, and in no need yet of a short stay for support. My mind was not in the least tempted, but I’ll confess my body had a mind of its own. I believe she understood men all too well.
She stuck out her arms. “The petticoat, please. I must become decent.”
I hesitated, but damnation if I wasn’t already in her chamber. I lifted the sleeves onto her shoulders, turned her around to peek at the lovely nape of her neck beneath her piled hair, and studied the fastenings