A Daughter's Destiny (31 page)

“I told you that we may have an enemy in this house.” He smiled abruptly. “Shriek with hysteria.”

“Excuse me?”

“We don't want anyone to intrude. Even Hitchcock will avoid the room if he hears you howling with despair.” His smile turned grim. “Didn't you see his face when Miss Woods fell into her swoon?”

She shook her head. “All I could see was the destruction to Grand-mère's sitting room.”

“I would say that you should trust me on this, but I suspect that is not possible.”

Brienne wanted to tell him that he was wrong. She did trust him now. How would he react if she told him that she had not revealed the truth about the vase because she had feared he would take the vase and leave to deliver it to Lagrille and never come back? She had been afraid—she
was
afraid—that Lagrille would slay him. She also feared, once his job was completed, Evan would not return to her arms. Had he not said as much last night?

Now she had no choice, save to sacrifice her grandmother. That she could not do.

As Evan opened the door, Brienne's cries echoed through the house. She noticed maids watching in sympathy as he helped her up the stairs.

“Yes, honey, it will be all right,” he said, just loud enough so that no one could mistake what was going on. “If it makes you feel better, we will wait in your grandmother's chambers until we know what to do next.”

Even though her throat was raw from her keening, she did not cease until they were inside and the door was shut.

“Enough!” He grinned. “My ears are going to ring for a month.”

Brienne motioned toward the bedchamber. “If it has not been stolen, the vase is in here.”

She stepped around the upended chairs and went to the armoire. She threw the door open and knelt to pull out the drawer where the box had been hidden.

Lifting out the blankets, she almost smiled when she saw the box was undisturbed. How could she smile when Evan now would leave to risk his life to save her grandmother? She handed him the blankets and took the box out of the drawer.

He tossed the blankets onto the bed and squatted beside her. Smoothing a strand of hair back behind her ear, he said nothing as he waited with extraordinary patience for her to open the box.

His gentleness almost undid her, but she swallowed the hot tears and lifted the top. She touched the battered frame of her father's picture, then picked up the vase and placed it in his hand.

“Be careful, Evan,” she whispered. “I don't want to lose both you and Grand-mère.”

“If it works out as I hope, your grandmother will be back with you in ripping time.”

“And you?” She had to ask the question.

Standing, he sighed. “I shall not make you any promises I cannot keep.” He looked at the vase. “However, I am sure you will be seeing me soon. If Lagrille wants this vase in order to get to you, I will be back to make sure he does not mistreat you.”

“If you can.” She let him help her to her feet.

“You have known from the onset, honey, that my work is not without its risks.”

“Which is why you love it?”

“Which is why I
loved
it.” He sighed as he slipped the vase under his coat. “Of late, it has lost its charms as I have come to know yours.”

She savored his kiss, even though it was tainted with farewell. As she locked her fingers behind his nape, she leaned into his strength, taking care not to bump the vase.

He took her hands, drew them down, and folded them between his. “Stay close to the house. Porter will make sure you are never alone.”

“But if he is our enemy—”

“You must assume everyone is now.” He raised her hands to his lips, kissing one, then the other before relinquishing them with a sad smile. “Save for me. You believe that, don't you?”

“Yes. I would not have given you the vase otherwise.”

“Honey, then trust me that I would not leave you here if I had any other choice that would keep you safe. Trust me that although it may appear so, you are not alone.”

“Not alone? What do you mean?”

“Trust me, honey.”

“Without an explanation?” Brienne took a deep breath and let it slide past her clamped lips. “You never make it easy for me, Evan.”

He caressed her cheek. “You will be safe here. If you must leave, take Porter or one of the stronger footmen with you.”

“But, if I went with you—”

He seized her arms and kissed her fiercely. “Honey, you need to stay here where you will be safe.”

“Lagrille's men took Grand-mère from the house!”

“Why, do you think?”

Her shoulders sagged as she dropped onto a trunk at the foot of the bed. “To persuade me to give chase. Evan, I know that, but I cannot leave her to them.”

“I will make them sorry that they were so stupid.” He knelt beside her. “Honey, I know it is hard for you to trust me, but you must.”

“Am I intruding?” asked Armistead from near the door.

“No. Come in.” Evan stood and took Brienne's hand. Placing it in his friend's hand, he said, “Guard her well while I see if I can find her grandmother.”

“I will guard her well.” He gripped her fingers. “You take care of her grandmother, and I shall take care of Brienne.”

“Be careful, Evan,” she said, drawing her hand out of Armistead's. “I love you.” When Evan frowned, she added hastily, “Tell Grand-mère that when you find her.” She shivered, knowing he also suspected their host of being involved in all of this. He was right to be suspicious of everyone. She must copy him in this. Anyone could be their enemy.

“I will be careful,” he said, then was gone.

She stared at the empty doorway, hoping she would see him walk back through it again soon.

Chapter Nineteen

“
Have a gathering here now?” Brienne stared at Louisa, certain she had misheard Louisa's question
.

“
It will help you get your mind off your anxiety about your grandmother
.”

As Brienne drew on her slippers, she wished she had put an end to the conversation at that point. If she had, she might not have had Armistead add his voice to Louisa's to persuade her that the soirée planned for this evening should not be canceled. She had agreed to that readily. When she had asked for them to excuse her from attending, the persuasion had begun in earnest. She had relented so they would leave her alone. She wanted time alone to consider what she should do next.

Louisa and Armistead were waiting when Brienne came out of her room. That surprised her, for she had guessed they would be with their guests who had been arriving in lovely carriages for the past half hour.

Holding out a glass of wine, Louisa said, “I thought you might want this before you joined us.”

“Thank you.” She took a sip, noticing how her hands trembled. “This is very good.”

Armistead smiled. “Do not ask where I obtained it, Brienne.”

“I won't.” She did not want to think of Marksen and the other smugglers. If she had not hied out of London so thoughtlessly, Grand-mère might not be in danger now. She took another sip.

Armistead offered his arm to his mistress as they went down the stairs. Louisa prattled about things that Brienne could not care about when she was so worried. When Armistead took her wineglass as they reached the floor where the guests were gathered, Brienne was startled to see the glass was empty.

“There is more in the parlor,” he said with a smile.

She shook away the sensation that he was amused with her. No doubt, he was simply anticipating enjoying the company of his tie-mates and putting the horror of Grand-mère's abduction out of his mind. She wished she could do the same.

As she went to a wide archway that had previously been closed, all words were stripped from her by the view of wealth displayed with arrogant pride. Gold columns edged the wall of the upper floor. Plaster cupids were embossed between them and reached for the ceiling which arched up into an inverted bowl. At the top a gigantic chandelier twinkled with scores of candles.

Neither Armistead nor Louisa paused as they entered to admire the benches upholstered in gold brocade or the silk wallcovering in the palest shade of green. Brienne wondered if she could ever become accustomed to such luxury.

Can you imagine what the ballroom at Château Tonnere du Grêlon must be like?
Evan's voice rang through her head, teasing and comforting at the same time. She wished he were here so he could tell her that her grandmother was safe. She wished he were here, so she could wrap his arms around her. Although he had been gone only since yesterday, it seemed a lifetime.

In spite of herself, she gasped as she walked through the chamber. It was bigger than the ballroom at Lady Jacington's townhouse, but oddly cozy with dark walls covered with a variety of paintings. She recalled how Armistead had spoken of hiring Evan to arrange for the purchase of art. She wondered if any of these pieces had been smuggled into England from France.

She had no chance to examine them closer. More than a dozen other people were gathered by a hearth on the other side of the room.

Armistead took her arm and led her toward the others. “My friends, you know my dear Louisa, but allow me to introduce you to Brienne LeClerc.”

A dowager peered at her through a pince-nez. “Have we met, young lady?”

“No, Lady Heathton, for she has recently entered the Polite World,” Armistead said. He smiled at Brienne and gave her a wink.

No wonder he and Evan were friends. They enjoyed hoaxing the rest of the
ton
. A pulse of sorrow rushed through her. She wished Evan and Grand-mère could be here to enjoy this joke.

Brienne greeted each of the others, trying to remember the names spoken so quickly. She listened to their conversation and was amazed how they spoke of names which were familiar from the newspapers. This was still all too strange, especially when she wanted to think only of Grand-mère.

“Oh, he will be arriving a bit later,” Armistead said and smiled more broadly.

Knowing that her thoughts had drifted from the conversation, Brienne did not ask whom he was speaking of. She doubted if she had met the person. She wished she was back at L'Enfant de la Patrie where she knew all her neighbors and she had lived in guileless happiness.

Louisa took her arm. “Come and sit, Brienne. You look as if you could use another glass of wine.”

“Forgive me for being so unsettled.”

“You need not apologize.” Her pert nose wrinkled as she said, “I do not want to imagine how frightened you are.”

Armistead had been listening, she realized, when he said, “Excuse me, my friends, while I get Miss LeClerc something to ease her thirst.”

Brienne thanked him as he brought her another glass of the excellent vintage. Grief pulsed through her. Grand-mère would know where it had been bottled. Although Brienne had learned her grandmother's skills in the kitchen, she never had equaled her grandmother's taste in fine wines.

He sat her on a settee and smiled again when Louisa sat on her other side. When Brienne giggled, she put a tremulous finger over her lips to silence the childish sound.

“No. No more,” Brienne said when he offered to refill her glass. “I believe I have had too much wine already.”

“A Frenchwoman who would turn away wine?” Armistead laughed and tapped his goblet against hers. “Are you jesting with me? Or is this an act like the one you performed with that Italian
comedia?
”

“Evan told you about Teatro Caparelli?” she gasped. She had not guessed that Evan had been so flippant about what she had thought must be kept secret.

“A
teatro?
Are you an actress, Miss LeClerc?” gushed a woman behind them.

Brienne pushed against the floor to shift so she could look back over her shoulder. Her feet refused to move at first, but then she turned slowly and waited for her eyes to focus. The wine must be more potent than the
vin ordinaire
she had been drinking in the rooms over the salon from her earliest memories.

Armistead answered, “Of course not. Miss LeClerc is not of that low class.”

“But you said—”

“Lady Grosbeck, it is true that Miss LeClerc has done some performing, but only as a lark.” He smiled at Brienne and squeezed her hand. “She has a true talent in pantomime, I am told.”

“My dear, you must do a reading for us!” Lady Grosbeck urged.

“Oh, do!” seconded Louisa, clapping her hands with delight.

“I do not think that would be such a good idea,” Brienne answered faintly. Putting her hand up to her head, she was shocked that her fingers refused to follow her wishes just as her feet did. She could not have had too much wine, for this was only her second glass. If she had taken ill, she must excuse herself posthaste.

“Please.” Louisa laughed. “It would be so much fun.”

Brienne blinked several times, but could not clear her eyes. As when they had pleaded with her to attend this evening, agreeing would be the simplest thing. Then she could excuse herself when the conversation turned to something else.

“I fear I shall disappoint you.” At least, her lips still worked.

“I doubt that.” Armistead chuckled. “Shall we?”

She rose, and a hand on her back steadied her. Slowly she looked back to Armistead standing behind her. He was smiling in anticipation. “We?” she asked.

“If you would be agreeable,” he said as he took her cup from her oddly numb fingers, “I would like to perform the scene with you. I have a love for drama.”

“Really?” Her voice seemed to come from the depths of a bottomless shaft, echoing through her skull. “What scene shall we do?”

“What did Evan tell me that you had performed? Ah, 'twas the tale of the golden lion.”

Another man came to stand next to Armistead. “I know that play. May I take the rôle of the king?”