To Sketch a Sphinx - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,33
would be searching for his body one of these days. They would never find it.
They reached the tree in question, and Hal made a show of resting beneath its shade, as any proper lady would, while John stood by and observed their surroundings as any polite but bored gentleman would.
And they waited.
“Isn’t this lovely?” Hal grumbled after a few minutes. “We should have our portraits painted thusly.”
“Just because you haven’t spent much time out of doors in the last fifteen years does not mean the outdoors are an evil,” John pointed out calmly. “Breathe in the fresh air.”
“There is no fresh air to be had in Paris, you dolt. And if you’ve seen the sun outside of a window for more than ten minutes at a time since the age of twelve, I will eat these lace gloves.” She made an indignant huff and looked away. “Impossible man.”
John smirked and continued to look where he would in an attempt to spot their contact.
“Excusez-moi, monsieur… Des pièces à épargner?” a gravelly voice from his right.
“Non,” John said quickly, stepping back even as he turned to face the old beggar. “Je suis désolé…”
A grunt emanated from the beggar. “Thought not. Englishmen are always cheap.”
The clarity of the pure English tone would have dropped John’s jaw had he not spent years practicing locking it in place. “Ange. Have you any coins in your reticule?”
Hal was beside him in a moment, her fingers digging into the beaded pouch. “Oh, I think so. Let me see…”
“Call me Ruse,” the man said in a low tone, the croaking aspect from before vanishing completely. “Welcome to Paris.”
“Oh, bother, I could have sworn…” Hal said aloud without raising her voice in an obvious manner, her hand still fumbling within her reticule, her eyes on their companion.
He nodded at her in acknowledgment. “An invitation will arrive for you both this afternoon for an evening engagement tomorrow. You will accept, and your relations will also be pleased to do so. It would behoove you to make the acquaintance of Monsieur Leclerc, and to welcome any closer association.”
“No, Ange,” John said out of instinct, “that is too much.”
“Quite right,” she replied, jingling her reticule further.
“Leclerc cannot be trusted,” Ruse went on. “But he will be useful. We have reason to believe he is a courier of sorts, so if you can do something there…”
“Leave it to me,” Hal murmured in an almost dark, satisfied tone.
Ruse surprised them by grinning. “Trick hinted you might like that. He sends his regards, by the way.”
Hal only offered a low laugh in response.
John wasn’t sure what she meant by that.
“Above all else, be discreet.” Ruse looked between the two of them severely. “Trust no one. No one is what they seem in France these days.” He flashed another quick grin. “Yours truly aside.”
“That should do it, no?” Hal fished a coin from her reticule and handed it over, carefully avoiding touching the dirty palm. “How do we contact you?” she asked in a much softer tone.
Ruse’s lips twisted to one side. “Place a single candle in your parlor window.”
“You have us under surveillance?” John asked, his brows shooting up.
“Oh, Sphinx.” Ruse laughed darkly. “You have no idea where we are and just how closely we lurk. This is a crucial mission, and none of us are willing to risk failure.” His fingers closed around the coin Hal had given him. “Merci beaucoup, madame. Dieu vous bénissez.”
“Vous aussi,” Hal replied, but their only known contact was already shuffling away, his gait staggering to the left, stumbling as other patrons of the park took pains to avoid him.
John watched him go, then offered an arm to his wife. “Well, Ange,” he sighed, “shall we venture back?”
“Let’s walk a few moments more,” she suggested softly, her hand curving around his upper arm as if for protection. “There is a great deal more to think about now.”
John nodded in agreement and exhaled slowly as they left the shade of the tree, thoughts awhirl. “The sun and air will do us both good.”
Hal prodded his side hard with her elbow, and he smiled at the pressure.
Chapter Eight
“It is extraordinaire that you have already received an invitation since you’ve been here. Marvelous! Did we meet Monsieur Savatier at the theatre? I must have made the introduction, indeed I must. Lovely family, beautiful wife, and quite respectable by any standards. He was a soldier for the emperor, you know, though we mustn’t admire such things now. But he is favored of His