By Franklin’s kite, she had a charge like a battery. “We can do that with a handshake,” I said uncertainly.
She laughed and kissed me instead, lips warm, hands clutching, her body squirreling against mine. “How droll you are!” I groped to get her off me, but admit I took my time about it. She rubbed long enough to be positive I was truly interested, and gave a wicked grin. “So you like me as I like you.”
“Comtesse, this isn’t proper.”
She pouted, delectably. “You must call me Catherine. I’m only trying to be friends. Tell me our conspiracy, Ethan, and I’ll leave you alone.”
I didn’t entirely trust her. She had the morals of a minx and, despite her royalist pretensions, had signed on to help with the usurper’s coronation. But we also needed her. We were on the same side, I needed her help, and if I hesitated any more, we’d be thrashing on her bed. I took breath. “You must swear to hold the secret. We’ve risked our lives already to obtain the substitute, and if we’re caught with it, we’ll have police and priests arguing over who gets to draw and quarter us first.”
“It sounds so daring!”
I allowed a dramatic pause. Then, “We have the Crown of Thorns.”
She looked blank. “The what?”
“There aren’t any thorns left; those were shared out centuries ago. But it’s the crown forced on Jesus’s head by the Romans. We stole it from Cardinal Belloy. Harry helped.”
“Oh my.” She blanched.
“It’s been kept for centuries. Were the pope to lift that as Napoleon’s intended crown on coronation day, the blasphemy would be so profound as to make him a pariah in all Christendom. He’d be mocked and scorned by every head of state. People might start muttering for the return of the Bourbons.”
She blinked, shocked, and considered. Then she began to smile. “That’s a magnificent idea! How clever of you to think of it.”
“It was suggested by a scholar whom Astiza found. And it’s clever only if it works. Can you help insert the holy relic into the coronation and take everyone by surprise, while not endangering yourself or us?”
She stood straighter. “I pledge to try. You must trust me, Ethan.”
“I just have.”
“Let me think how to do so. Thanks to my wit and charm, they’ve taken my advice at the Tuileries. They’ll listen enough to make this possible, too.” She pondered. “However, I’m searched when entering and leaving the royal apartments. You must bring it to the coronation, and we’ll exchange it there.”
“Exchange?”
“Napoleon’s crown is a simple golden laurel wreath that will be kept in a ceremonial box until the critical moment so that it will evoke maximum awe when lifted and displayed. I’ll find a way to insert your crown of straw and take the gold one. Stealing it would be just payment for our troubles, don’t you think?”
“We’d be guillotined if we tried to sell it.”
“Not if we melt it.” Her face was lit with practical greed and vengeance, and I had to admire her ruthlessness. “You must bring me a loaded pistol, too. If things go awry, I may have to fight. A gun gives me a chance with a guard.”
“I’m sure guests will be searched.”
“Then put it in a bag with the crown. I’ll furnish an imperial seal.”
“The goal is to embarrass the emperor, not start a battle or make ourselves rich.”
She hugged me. “The goal is to let everyone get what they deserve. I’m so happy we’re partners.”
I limped from our conversation with relief and regret, happy I’d stayed vaguely faithful to my vows and worried that I’d let too much slip by enlisting Catherine. I had entrusted her not just with our mission but with the fate of my family. In this final test I needed her to be the steely royalist warrior, not a flighty and flirtatious socialite.
I sat down to ponder how much of this to tell my wife.
Astiza reluctantly agreed to the inclusion of the comtesse in our plot, since getting close to the crowns of the coronation seemed impossible without Catherine. “She can finally make herself useful,” my wife allowed, “though frankly I don’t rely on her to manage more than a table setting.”
“She’s risked her life to return to France for what she believes in,” I said with more hope than conviction.
“I just don’t want her to risk ours. I don’t trust her.”
“With the Crown of Thorns?”
“With you. But let’s finish what we’ve started and make a