Read Online Minuet by Joan Smith - Free Book Online Page B

thinks he will succeed. Fox is a powerful man. He may have some connections that can be of help,”
    “Still, I am glad duVal makes up the cartes civiles and madame the bonnets rouges. It is well to be prepared, n’est-ce pas?”
    “It can do no harm. Time is limited, and if Fox does nothing then we must make other plans.”
    “We?” she asked.
    “I am your cousin, mademoiselle.”
    “Your outing with les français has smartened you already. You have learned the mode of address I prefer.”
    “It seems I must also learn the language you prefer. I missed a part of the discussion. What was the little dark fellow with the gold tooth saying about getting into the asylum?”
    “The comte de Rasselin said he had a mad cousin, and would happily act the part of a moonling to gain entrance.”
    “Not a bad idea. But don’t the patients come from the Conciergerie? Belhomme no longer takes regular patients, does he?”
    “Occasionally, to keep up the illusion he runs an ordinary establishment. If the price is right, he would take a cow or a pig. In any case some hint could be dropped that the person in question was in danger from the Tribunal. It would make an excuse to get in the door. It is a good idea.”
    Degan then went on to straighten out a few other points he had missed, and by the time they were home, he was beginning to think the Frenchmen were on the right track.
    A direct trip to the asylum was the likeliest way to gain a hasty rescue.
    Mérigot had reached Berkeley Square before them, and was just piling the shopping into the arms of a footman when Degan’s carriage drew up. With an unhappy glance at him, Degan lifted his hat and said he would do himself the honor of calling on mademoiselle very soon. She hoped it would not be too soon. Henri, she noticed, was displeased with the Englishman’s attentions.
     

Chapter Six
     
    Lord Harlock was as malleable as putty in his daughter’s hands. He refused to find anything amiss in any of her whims. Her cropped, unpowdered hair, her English liberty bonnet, her unusual gowns—all were fine with him, being so reminiscent of the girl’s mother, who also delighted in setting a new mode.
    With the daughter, it was pure pleasure. Of Marie he had to be jealous, but if Sally had a bunch of beaux trailing at her heels, it did him credit. Even the hated Mérigot he accepted with equanimity, feeling that a little friendship with the fellow now would stand him in good stead with Marie, after his having neglected the chap for full ten years.
    When Sally told him Mérigot was taking her to a masquerade party at the racy Pantheon, he offered no demur, but only a caution that she must not leave Mérigot, for it was a rackety crew who hung out there.
    “I am used to the rackety crews, me,” she told him. “I learned a few tricks to defend myself en route from Paris to London. Do not fear, Papa. I will not be caught.”
    With a waggish shake of his head, Harlock bade them good evening, and took out a map of Paris to locate exactly the Maison Belhomme, for passing along to Fox, who had told him there was a perfectly legal ship going to France, to deliver stoves, which peaceful commodity was allowed entry, even in times of war. He didn’t know the exact date of departure, but mentioned it was to be very soon.
    While Harlock pored over the map, Lord Degan was announced. “Ah, John, I am happy to see you have got a map of Paris. I trust this means you are going to bypass the government and send men after your wife and son yourself?”
    “No. Fox wants me to show him the exact location of the asylum. He is seeing to it.”
    “It is not a good idea to make official inquiries. It will only draw attention to your family.”
    “Exactly what Fox said. He is down as a nail, Fox. The lads will slip over in a merchant vessel, and go without making any inquiries at all, to free Marie and Edward.”
    “Good. Some friends of Mérigot’s can arrange cartes civiles and those bonnets