"Yes." Gabrielle rose immediately. "I'm glad you're in Paris. I'd find it hard to weave my way through this tangle without your counsel." She picked up her discarded gloves and slapped them idly into her palm before saying abruptly, "There's a complication. Nathaniel's son is with him."

"In Paris?" Again Talleyrand revealed his surprise. "How old's the child?"

"Six. He stowed away on the boat and there really wasn't any choice but to bring him. Nathaniel has a safe house where he says the child won't be remarked, but if Fouche were to hear of Jake…" She fell silent, chewing her bottom lip.

"He mustn't," Talleyrand agreed instantly. "You will have to submit to an interview with him. You must be very careful."

"I know,' she said simply. She bent forward for the avuncular kiss he placed on her forehead. "Will you be dining at home, sir?"

"I hadn't intended to, but in the circumstances, I believe I shall," he said, patting her cheek.

"You do me too much honor, sir." Her eyes twinkled, banishing the seriousness of the last exchange.

"Go and do your duty to Catherine," he said gruffly. "I don't know what your father would say to this habit you have of forming highly improper liaisons. It's high time you found a husband and started having babies."

"I would if I could," she said, and the twinkle faded. "But I don't seem to be attracted to men who want to lead conventional lives."

"Probably because you don't want to yourself,” her godfather observed briskly. "The vicissitudes of war suit you."

"And what does that say about my character?" Gabrielle queried, shaking her head.

"I'm sure you can work that out for yourself." Talleyrand waved her way, reflecting that Gabrielle was one of the people for whom fate had fashioned a twisted destiny, one of great passions and great sorrows. In many ways she was to be envied. She lived on the cutting edge, never in the comfortable safety of the middle, and she'd experience heights and glories that ordinary people would never approach. But such a life had its price, as she already knew. Twenty-five was young to have lost so much.

Gabrielle found the Princess de Talleyrand in her boudoir. Catherine had been married to Talleyrand for five years-a misalliance that shocked society as much as it puzzled. That Talleyrand, a descendent of one of France's oldest families, should have married a woman of inferior birth, his own mistress of four years, and reputed to have been the mistress of anyone willing to keep her, was completely incomprehensible. Catherine was a silly woman with vapid conversation, no companion for the urbane and brilliant Minister for Foreign Affairs, and she was no longer young, although her fabled beauty was as yet barely dimmed.

Gabrielle privately believed that her godfather had married his immensely good-natured mistress because it was as easy to do so as not. As an excommunicated bishop, Talleyrand despised the church, and as an aristocratic intellectual, he despised bourgeois morality. So when Napoleon had conducted one of his periodic moralsweepsthroughhiscourt,demandingthatirregularrelationshipsberegularized,Talleyrandhadyielded toimperialpressuresimplybecausehedidn'tgiveatinker'sdamnonewayortheother.

CatherinegreetedGabriellewarmlybutratherasif she'djustreturnedfromashoppingexpeditioninstead ofanextendedvisittoEngland.

"Machere,howwellyoulook."Sheliftedherpowdered,paintedcheekforGabrielle'skiss."Haveyou seenMonsieurlePrince?"

"Justnow,"Gabriellesaid."He'sdiningathome, hetellsme."

Catherinemadeasmallmoue."Whatanuisance. IamengagedtodineattheBonnevillesandIcan'tcry off.You'llhavetoentertainhimforme."

Gabriellehidhersmile.Catherine'sabilitytoentertainherhusbandinanyarenaexceptthebedchamberwasopentoquestion.

"Ihavesomestraw-coloredsarcenet,"Catherine wassaying,examiningGabrielleclosely."Itdoesn'tsuit me,I'vedecided,butitwouldlookverywellonyou, machere. Clothildecouldmakeitupforyou.Thereis aperfectpatternforamorningdress-letmesee, wheredidIputit?"Shesortedvaguelythroughastack ofperiodicalsonamarble-toppedLouisXVdessertetable."Ah,hereitis."

Gabrielledutifullyexaminedthepattern.Catherine'stastetendedtotheflamboyant,tomatchherfigure,andthefrillsandfurbelowsonthemorningdress werenotGabrielle'sstyleatall.However,shemadethe rightnoisesandpromisedtotakethesarcenet.

Dutydone,shewenttoherownapartmentsatthe rearof thehouse,intentonriddingherselfofthegrime andfatigueof ajourneythathadcontinuedatabreakneckpacefor nearlytwodays.

Nathanielhadhadthebestofit,ridingbesidethe chaisewhilesheandJakewerejoltedmiserablyover theill-pavedroads.Thechildhadrequiredconstant at tention and resisted all Gabrielle's attempts to engage his imagination in the journey. The unfamiliar food and the motion of the coach had made him almost as sick as he'd been on the boat, and he'd moaned fretfully whenever he wasn't asleep. Gabrielle had developed a thundering headache by the afternoon of the first day, and Nathaniel, after one look at her drawn face and heavy eyes, had taken Jake up in front of him for a few hours while she slept.

Judging by Nathaniel's tight-lipped relief when he returned the child to the chaise, the arrangement had been less than a success. Jake had whimpered constantly for home, for Nurse and Primmy, for Neddy, for milk and for bread without crusts. His small bladder had required frequent relief, and every attempt his father had made to entertain him had fallen on stony ground.

Nathaniel had handed him back to Gabrielle with the terse comment that it was now his turn to nurse a headache.

However, by the time they reached the outskirts of Paris and clattered through the narrow cobbled streets, Jake had perked up. He'd never been in a city before, and his eyes had grown wide at the sights and the noises and the varied smells. He forgot his nausea, subjecting Gabrielle to a flood of questions that in her fatigue she found almost as exhausting as his earlier complaints.