Sophie hired a carriage and gave him the address the inspector had written down. As they moved through Paris and into the outskirts she realized the neighborhoods had become dirtier, more dingy and looked less reputable.
When the carriage came to a standstill, the driver opened the door for her and nodded at the coin she gave him before disappearing again.
The address had led her to a tavern of sorts with dirty children playing outside in the mud. She saw the inspector standing to one side of the building with a pipe clenched between his teeth.
“Madame.” He gave a mocking half bow and indicated that she should precede him up the narrow flight of stairs behind him.
She did so, only glancing down below her once to see that he was indeed following her. Once she entered the room, he closed the door behind her.
“I did have my doubts.”
“About?” Sophie asked.
“That you would come at all.” He gestured to the room. “That you would come alone.”
“You seem intent on following me and my family. I want it to end.”
She looked around the room. Books lined a shelf and a small wooden table was flanked by two chairs. A nautical painting of a ship afloat on a stormy sea dominated one wall. The stark room was befitting the man who stood before her, dressed in all black—a sharp contrast with his red hair and blue eyes.
“Yes, I have been following you,” he said bluntly.
He watched her in return. He saw that she had taken great care to dress in a subdued, dove- grey gown and black cape. It was a sensible dress and not alluring, though her face was picture-perfect.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why am I
intent on following you?”
“Yes.”
“Because you are a traitor to your country and the monarchy,” he said smoothly.
“You’ve proof of this?” she whispered, sliding into one of the two wooden chairs.
He watched her mouth and cursed her beauty. He could easily subdue her and take her, but that wasn’t at all what he wanted. He would like to break her spirit, but that wasn’t his goal either. She was a small link to the greater prize and the power he meant to have. There was so much more at stake here than this one woman.
“I do.”
Sophie looked around the sparse room. “Why did you bring me here?”
“To hold an intimate conversation without being disturbed.”
Sophie locked eyes with him at the word “intimate.”
“Have no fear, madame. I have no desire for that.”
“What do you want then?”
“Your assistance. Or I will have to arrest you.”
“And your proof?” she asked.
“Ah, yes. My proof.” He removed two items from his coat pocket and placed them before her on the wooden table. “You sealed your own fate.”
One item was the simple note that she had written at her grandmother’s urging, to thank him for attending the ball. The other item was her last pamphlet, damning in its radical contents. It was undeniable that the same hand had written both, and with Sophie’s signature at the bottom of the card, he indeed held the proof that she was Jean Inconnu.
“Contrary to the silly novels in a matter such as this, I require neither your money nor your precious body,” he told her.