Regency High Society Vol 3. Elizabeth Rolls

clearly detected a murmur of voices from the room adjoining her own, which Marie had occupied throughout their time at the inn. She could not hear precisely what was being said, and even if she could she doubted very much whether she would have understood half of what was being uttered, because the conversation quite naturally was being conducted in rapid French. Even so, there certainly seemed an urgency about the whispered exchanges.

      Some few minutes elapsed before she heard a firm tread along the passageway, and several minutes more before she saw, from her bedchamber window, Major Ross leave the inn, and set off at a brisk pace towards the centre of the city. Almost at once a figure emerged from one of the doorways on the opposite side of the street and made off in the same direction. Mere coincidence, or something more sinister? She could not help wondering.

      Her faintly troubled thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, and a moment later Marie entered, dressed in her outdoor clothes. ‘Ah, madame!’ she announced cheerfully, immediately perceiving Katherine by the window. ‘Your husband has instructed me to bear you company in your quest for a new bonnet. How lucky you are, madame, to have such a generous husband and one who, moreover, panders to a lady’s every whim.’

      Katherine’s response to this piece of arrant nonsense was to give vent to an unladylike snort of derision. She couldn’t help thinking that poor Marie was allowing those lingering feelings of gratitude to cloud her judgement when it came to assessing Major Ross’s true character.

      She chose not to argue when it was suggested that it might be wise to don her heavy, fur-lined cloak before venturing out on what promised to be a very mild, almost spring-like day. Nor did she attempt to discover why Marie should consider it essential for her to place all the funds in her possession, enough to purchase a dozen dresses, let alone bonnets, in her reticule before setting off. It was only after they had left the inn, and Marie for once chose to dawdle along the streets, while maintaining an inexhaustible flow of small talk that Katherine began to suspect her companion had a very good reason for behaving in such an uncharacteristic way.

      This suspicion was confirmed when, idly glancing in a shop window, she happened to catch sight of the man who, earlier that morning, had been seated alone at a table in the coffee room. His grey hair and beard suggested that he was not in the first flush of youth, and yet his gait was remarkably sprightly, and his hard, dark eyes, she noticed, before he stopped to study the goods on display in another shop window, appeared youthfully clear and direct.

      ‘Marie, am I imagining things, or are we being followed?’

      Katherine feared the worst when her companion’s fixed smile began to crack. ‘Yes, petite,’ Marie admitted, as they continued their stroll. She did not, however, attempt to quicken her pace. ‘Major Ross suspected that there were people watching the inn. But do not be afraid. He is at this very moment organising your removal from the city. All we need do is successfully lose our shadow. And I believe I know how this can be achieved. Endeavour, petite, to behave normally, and on no account be tempted to keep checking if he is still behind us.’

      Resisting the temptation to glance over her shoulder proved to be more difficult than Katherine might have imagined. Strangely enough, though, she did not feel alarmed; in fact, she felt more intrigued than anything else, wondering how the traitor’s henchmen had managed to locate their whereabouts.

      Of course she realised that Sir Giles had intended to make it known that he had managed to discover the whereabouts of Justine Baron’s sister, and that Louise would be travelling to London under an assumed name. It was also possible that Sir Giles had made it known that the person whom he had engaged to escort Louise to England would be adopting the role of her husband. But what had made them suspect that she might be Justine’s sister? Did she truly bear such a strong resemblance to the Baron sisters?

      This might possibly be the reason, Katherine supposed. Yet it still did not account for the fact that the traitor’s associates had managed to locate her so easily. Paris was littered with inns. It would take some considerable time to visit them all in order to search for their quarry. Had it been pure chance which had prompted them to stumble upon the inn at which she and the Major were putting up?

      Marie’s unexpected exclamation of delight induced Katherine to abandon her puzzling conjecture for the present, and she turned her attention to the creation in the shop window which appeared to be holding Marie so enraptured. She suspected at once that there was something more to her companion’s display of enthusiasm, and so offered no resistance when Marie insisted on entering the premises in order to view the fussily adorned bonnet more closely.

      No sooner had they stepped over the threshold to find the establishment surprisingly empty except for one sales assistant than Marie’s demeanour changed dramatically. She insisted upon seeing the proprietress, and after a few moments’ haranguing the young assistant was persuaded to go in search of her mistress.

      Not appearing best pleased at having her daily routine disrupted, the modiste, like a fearsome Amazon prepared to do battle, suddenly appeared between the plush red velvet curtains. Surprisingly enough, however, after one startled glance of recognition, she clasped Marie to her ample curves, for all the world as if she were some long-lost bosom friend.

      A hurried and whispered exchange swiftly followed, the result of which had Madame throwing up her hands in a despairing gesture, casting a sympathetic glance in Katherine’s direction and voicing the fervent hope that all hardhearted males would suffer the torment of eternal perdition.

      Although faintly puzzled by this pronouncement, Katherine didn’t hesitate to follow the modiste when she beckoned imperiously with one podgy, beringed hand. Having once passed between the velvet curtains, she found herself in a dimly lit passageway, from which, she swiftly discovered, one gained access to an enclosed, narrow yard.

      Extracting a bunch of keys from the pocket of her severe black gown, Madame unlocked the gate set in the high, stone wall, and then surprised Katherine again somewhat by enveloping her in her plump arms.

      ‘You may place your trust in Madame Perot, petite. I shall send that fool who follows about his business if he should dare to enter my shop,’ she announced, before utterly confounding Katherine by adding, ‘Now go, petite. And God speed! You shall soon be safe in the arms of your lover.’

      Before Katherine could gather her wits together sufficiently to demand of Madame precisely what she meant, Marie grasped one of her wrists and, after checking no one was lurking in the alleyway beyond the gate, commenced to lead the way hurriedly along a series of narrow, twisting streets. It was only when they eventually arrived at a much wider thoroughfare, running parallel to the Seine, that Marie slackened her pace.

      Finding herself in a part of the city where she had never ventured before, Katherine looked about with interest, but eventually her mind returned to the brief encounter with that larger-than-life modiste. That Marie was well acquainted with Madame Perot was obvious. What wasn’t quite so clear was what she had imparted during that hurried and whispered exchange which had taken place in the shop.

      Curiosity got the better of her at last and she found herself asking, ‘How long have you been acquainted with Madame Perot, Marie?’

      ‘Do you not recall my mentioning that Justine Baron worked for one of Paris’s most fashionable dressmakers, petite? That was Madame Perot. She was fond of Justine. She admired very much her spirit. After I returned to France, I kept in touch.’

      That, of course, explained why Madame Perot didn’t hesitate to offer her aid, Katherine mused. It did not, however, explain Madame’s curious parting words. ‘What did you tell her about me?’

      Marie’s harsh features were once again transformed by one of those endearing smiles. ‘I told her you were my new mistress, and that you had been very good and kind to me.’

      ‘And?’ Katherine prompted, when she surprised a mischievous glint in those world-weary eyes.

      ‘I told her you had fallen deeply in love with the most brave and charming man, but that your papa stubbornly opposed the match. I told her you had been forbidden to leave