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of a road as opposed to a courtroom, which is how things ought to be done. Even worse, these poor aristos had more than their toes sliced off. They were shot and hanged like animals merely because they tried to quietly leave the country. Did you hear of it?”
    He blinked rapidly, as if unable to comprehend what she was saying, and glanced away. “Yes.” Dropping his hand to his side, his tone darkened. “For a country girl, you appear to be incredibly well-informed on what is happening. Why is that?”
    She sighed. “My cousin Rémy is a bit of gossip. He lives in Paris and has been writing about the chaos since it started back in ‘89. He even joined in a few of the riots.”
    His expression grew tight with strain. “And knowing this, you still wish to go into Paris and perform for him? Knowing he is contributing to the mounting chaos?”
    Thérèse shrugged. “Better my cousin than what my parents have planned for me. Rémy is a good man and anything but violent. He only joined in on a few of the riots to show support and petition change. The theatre he manages was getting so heavily taxed by the Lord Mayor, he almost had to shut it down. The aristocracy owns countless theatrical venues of a similar nature and were never taxed. These wealthy bastards think they can—” Remembering who she was talking to, she cringed. “Forgive me. I was raised in a very opinionated and vocal household. There were thirteen of us and we never held anything back.”
    Hooking his thumbs against the pockets of his trousers, he bit out, “I can see that. Unfortunately, you are part of the growing problem in this country. All tongue but no mind.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    He narrowed his gaze. “You swallow propaganda merely because you hear it or because it was written. Be it about a zebra or anything else, those gazettes and pamphlets are paid for and printed by people with a specific agenda. Remember that.” His tone hardened. “And while you insult my way of life by calling me a bastard, your gazettes and pamphlets are pushing the masses to violence in the name of overtaking what little remains of this country. Aristocrats are not the problem anymore. You people are.”
    No wonder the country was going to hell. If a man of privilege refused to acknowledge the struggles happening outside his golden gates, it would seem this revolution was just getting started.
    In truth, she wasn’t a staunch believer in the revolution. The idea of eliminating Sa Majesté was pointless. What would it change? Nothing. Because men in power equated to men in power. And said power would simply go on to yet another self-righteous prick who would only use the government like the devil paging through the bible looking for new words to tear out.
    But she understood why people were demanding change.
    They were out of hope. Much like she was.
    Knowing it was best to leave, for she was getting a bit too riled about their conversation, she edged back. “I suggest you aristos stop blaming the pamphlets and do something about the taxes and the food prices. Maybe then , your kind would be more respected. For without the respect of the people, what keeps us in place? Nothing. Propaganda is only ever allowed to fester when there is nothing left for the people to believe in. That may be why I am prancing off to Paris to be an actress. Because I have nothing left to believe in.”
    He said nothing.
    Thérèse offered him a theatrical bow. “Thank you for wasting my time. I bid you a very good day and ask that you stop following me.” She swung away and started walking again. Only faster.
    She almost hit her head against her own basket, unable to believe she had just delivered a political lashing to an aristocratic man who had five rosewood pistols, a dagger and a sword.

Not only did the blighter not pay her the money he promised, he continued to follow her.
    As if it were his right!
    “Maybe I ought to take you back to Giverny and marry you off,” he