“Sophy is right,” Pyotr added. “If I were searching for you, I would keep a close watch on the Embassy. It is the logical place for you to go.”
Leonida understood the risk. It was the only reason she had not approached the Embassy the moment they had entered Paris.
“But I do not possess the funds to purchase a carriage and still have enough to provide for our journey.”
A hard smile touched Pyotr’s lips. “I will take care of the carriage. Meet me at Jardin des Tuileries in an hour.”
“How on earth…”
“One hour,” he repeated, then before Leonida could protest, he had turned to slip back down the alley.
“Best do as he says,” Sophy warned, putting away her gun and gathering the baggage the groom had left behind. “Pyotr can be quite forceful when he has his mind set on a thing.”
“Clearly,” Leonida said dryly. She bent down to grasp her own case, glancing up and down the busy street. Without her groom, she dare not use the alleys. Which unfortunately meant taking the risk of being spotted by the mysterious Sir Charles. “We cannot wait here.”
“No.”
Gathering her tattered courage, Leonida waited for the large group of schoolgirls being herded by grim-faced nuns to reach the alley. Tugging on Sophy’s arm, she darted among the giggling crowd.
“Hurry, Sophy.”
“Where are we going?” the maid muttered.
“It seems we will discover when we get there.”
Resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder and ensure they were not being followed, Leonida allowed herself to be swept along with the schoolgirls. It was not until they were several streets from the hotel that she urged Sophy away from the group and headed in what she hoped was the direction of the Seine.
There were the inevitable wrong turns, but eventually Leonida managed to stumble across the Rue de Rivoli and, swiftly finding her bearings, she led her maid deeper into the large gardens that were famous for their magnificent statues by Coustou and Maillol as well as the beautifully manicured lawns and shrubberies. It would, perhaps, be more sensible to stroll close to the street where she could easily be seen by Pyotr, but the nearby arcades made her wary.
If Sir Charles Richards was indeed in league with her enemies then he might very well be keeping an eye upon the shops in the hope she would return. She could only trust in Pyotr to find them.
Barely able to breathe, Leonida strolled through the gardens that had been created for Louis XIV by his famous gardener, Le Notre. Her arm was aching from holding her heavy bag and there was a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach, but she dare not halt to rest. Perhaps she was being overly cautious, but at the moment it felt as if all of Paris was searching for her.
They reached the edge of the gardens and Leonida wryly regarded the monument that marked the site where Joan of Arc had been wounded. At the moment she fully sympathized with the poor girl. Being hounded and chased by ruthless enemies was a great deal more nerve-wracking than it seemed between the pages of a book.
Momentarily lost in her thoughts, it came as a welcome interruption when Sophy impatiently tugged on her sleeve.
“There is Pyotr,” she hissed.
Turning her head, Leonida spotted the servant standing near the street, his craggy face hard with concern until he caught sight of them. With obvious relief, he lifted his hand and motioned for them to join him.
Leonida hurried forward, Sophy at her side.
“Pyotr, did you—”
“This way,” the groom interrupted, turning to lead them down the street, halting at a gleaming black carriage with gold trim and red leather upholstery.
It was sleek and expensive and pulled by a pair of matching gray horses that would each cost more than she currently possessed.
“Good heavens. Where did you get this?”
“I noted it behind the wheelwright’s shop this morning.” Pyotr smiled with a smug satisfaction. “He obviously had decided to repair it before working upon our own.”
Leonida’s eyes widened. “You returned to the wheelwright?”
“I approached the shop from the back mews and once I had the carriage I drove about the streets until I could be certain I was not followed,” her groom assured her.
“I told you we could trust Pyotr,” Sophy said with a fond glance at the groom.