She dressed for the morning and went downstairs to join her family for breakfast. Her father was reading the Gazette de France and in typical fashion, her grandmother was not yet downstairs.
She was surprised when Marie came in and informed her father that a gentleman wished to speak with him in the front salon.
Jean Pierre set aside his reading material and placed his linen napkin on the table, excusing himself. When he entered the front salon, a man dressed simply with red hair and clear blue eyes greeted him.
“Monsieur Gauvreau. I’m Inspector Alain Vennard.” The man introduced himself and the men shook hands.
Jean Pierre knew from his colleague that the inspector in the district was making inquiries into the writer of the pamphlets that had recently been circulating in the area, but he was surprised to find him on his doorstep.
“Inspector.” He nodded to the chair before the fire. “How can I help you?”
“I’m sure you are aware that I am searching for the writer of the recent pamphlets published under the name Jean Inconnu,” he began.
“Yes, I have heard,” he admitted.
“I have reason to believe your house may be involved.”
“Indeed? How so?” Jean Pierre was startled by the revelation
but would not show it.
“I have been watching a printer that I believe may be printing the offending pamphlets. Recently a young boy delivered him some writings, and the boy is a relative of your maid Marie.”
“Indeed. I find that hard to believe.” Now Jean Pierre was certain the man was following the wrong lead.
“No. It is all true.”
Jean Pierre shook his head. That his maid Marie should be the writer of these pamphlets? Absolutely absurd.
“I’m sorry, inspector. You picked a very poor day for this. We are having a ball to honor my daughter and the house is all sixes and sevens. Perhaps you would care to come tonight and we can discuss this over champagne,” he said smoothly.
Jean Pierre had no time and little patience to deal with this obviously incorrect information. But he felt the invite would achieve the correct outcome, which was to pacify the inspector until he could speak to the fellow’s supervisor.
Alain nodded coolly but was secretly pleased to receive the invite to the exclusive ball. “I accept.”
As they exited the salon, Sophie was in the hallway, dressed in a white linen dress with her auburn hair falling down her back. Alain was instantly struck by her beauty.
“Inspector Vennard, my daughter, Sophie.” He introduced them.
Sophie didn’t have a chance to respond as Alain bent over her hand, kissing it. “Mademoiselle.”
“Inspector,” she said quietly as she looked into the handsome man’s cool blue eyes.
Alain gave Jean Pierre a jaunty salute before he spoke. “Until this evening.”
“W-what was that about?” Sophie asked as she felt her heart beat quicker. Sebastian was right. He had found her.
“Nothing. Pure nonsense. The man was talking about Marie. Mon Dieu! Can you imagine? Apparently our Marie is ironing our garments by day and writing pamphlets by night. Absurd!” He shook his head, chuckling.
Sophie smiled. “Marie?”
“Yes. The fellow has it all wrong. I invited him to the ball tonight to pacify him. But tomorrow I will talk to his superior. This is what happens when men step out of their class. Upstart.” He returned to the dining room, leaving Sophie to stare after the inspector.
Sophie felt her throat tighten. Sebastian was right. The inspector had tracked her down and he was on her very doorstep. The wolf was at the door.
***
Sophie tried to calm herself as she helped her grandmother with small details several hours before the ball. The flowers needed to be placed on the foyer table. The crystal bowls should be there, not there, she was told. Count the candles for the evening and make sure there were plenty on hand. Again. The mundane details were irritating but helped keep Sophie’s mind off of the inspector. She was perturbed that her father had invited him to the ball that evening, but his reasons seemed appropriate.