cry wouldstart up at any moment, but
Maman
and
Papa
were out riding onthiscrisp March afternoon and so long as news of his flight was notdiscovered by either of them, there would be no uncomfortableconsequences.
As luck would have it, however, his dash across the open ground of thestableyard coincided with the clattering of hooves on the cobbles andthe return of his parents.
"Nicky?" his mother called and, with a pout, the small boy stopped.
Danielle dismounted unaided and marched toward him, the tawny velvet ofher riding habit swinging around her.
"Mediant,''
she scolded. "Whereare you going?"
"Lespetits chats,
maman
." He grabbed her handeagerly, eyes shining.
"Viens, vite."
"Kittens!" his mother exclaimed. "Where?"
"The barn." Nicky tugged on her hand.
"Just what are you up to now?" Justin strode across the yard. There wasan ominous frown in his eyes that the little viscount recognized and hepulled anxiously on his mother's hand.
"Nicky has found some kittens, Justin," Danielle explained. "We must goand see them. Show us,
mon petit."
"Danielle," Justin expostulated. "Kittens or no, he knows he's not tobe here alone, or anywhere else for that matter."
"Oh, pah!" She dismissed such rigidity with disdain. "Do not tell methat you were able to resist a litter
of kittens at his age? It is nofun to be always doing things with one's nurse, and not at all
amusant
never to do things without permission."
"No," Justin agreed, struck by the truth of this statement. "Well, letus go and see these fascinating creatures." He held out his hand to hisson and received the small trusting one with a smile and an admonitoryheadshake. Nicholas just beamed, quite unabashed, and trotted betweenthem, chattering in his fluid mixture of French and English,interspersed with baby burble when his as yet simple vocabulary failed.
Danielle's pleasure in the kittens easily matched her son's and Justinwatched as she sat on the dusty barn floor, her skirts spread toreceive the furry parcels, as Nicky picked them up with exaggerateddelicacy and deposited them in her lap.
The last five months had seen the execution of Louis XVI— a king whohad died with dignity beneath the blade of Madame Guillotine amidst thejeering crowds of his erstwhile subjects and the Reign of Terror nowgathered momentum. England had been at war with France since thebeginning of February and it was now impossible for an Englishman totravel openly in that beleaguered country. Danielle's clandestineactivities had been dangerous enough, but now the danger was increaseda hundredfold.
Justin had controlled his impatience and devoted his attention to hiswife and son, taking pleasure in the former's growing relaxation. Ithad been many weeks before she had responded with the passion andeagerness of the past to his gently determined lovemaking. Butunderstanding had leant him compassion and the patience of Job. She washer old self again now, less tempestuous perhaps, and the months ofwearing britches had given her an inordinate dislike of such attire,even when riding. Her hair had grown, the thin cheeks had filled, andthere was a seriousness in the brown eyes that denotedmaturity rather
than pain.
But the winter storms that had prevented safe passage from Cornwall tothe north coast of Brittany were now on the wane and Justin was growingrestless. Images of St. Estephe hung on the periphery of his sleep,sometimes intruded in violent dreams, and it was time to begin thechase. How to tell Danielle that he wished to take his revenge alone?
He looked at her as she explained to Nicky that the kittens were stillblind and could not be taken from their mother however well Nicky couldlook after one in the nursery. He must wait for at least another monthbefore they would be ready to live without their
maman
. Nicky listenedseriously, understanding the import if not every word. And how wasJustin to leave them both—his wife and his son, dearer to
him than lifeitself? But it was because they were so that he had no choice but tofollow his obsession.
If he did not take matters into his own hands,then St. Estephe would be an ever-threatening presence
in their lives.Until Justin was certain that the
comte
was dead, there would be nosafety for himself, his wife, or his children. Danielle's descriptionof the St. Estephe that she now knew had convinced Linton
of the cold,detached fanaticism, bordering on madness, of the man who had set hisheart on revenge
on the house of Linton.
"Come, children." He broke into their game with a broad smile and thebrisk directive: "Tante Therese is waiting for one of you, at least."The kittens were returned to their nest and, laughing, Danielle allowedhim to pull her to her feet.
"Not an appropriate sobriquet," she informed her husband with a mockcurtsy.
"On the contrary," he replied. "There is not a pin to choose betweenthe pair of you." He lifted his son onto his shoulders and Nicky crowedwith delight, bouncing up and down, his chubby fingers twisted in hisfather's hair as they made their way back to the house.
Nicky had learned enough in his twenty-one months not to protest toovociferously as he was returned to the nursery with the promise that
Maman
and
Papa
would visit him after hisbath. Danielle, on the otherhand, showed no such self-discipline when Justin broached the subjectof his returning to France.
"We agreed that in future what we do we do together," she insisted. "Ialso claim St. Estephe for my
own. You are quite correct to say that wemust make our move first, and he will not be expecting it for thenonce. If, as I suspect, he is playing politics with the tribunal, hewill be too occupied preserving his neck to concern himself with us. Hehas the great gift of patience and will put aside what can wait. He
will assume
