Читать книгу The Rake To Redeem Her - Julia Justiss - Страница 11

Loitering at the corner, hidden from view by the shadow of an overhanging balcony, and cap well down over the golden hair Madame Lefevre had found so distinctive, Will watched the guard posted at the opposite end of the alley. He’d grab some dinner and return to remain here through the night, noting how many kept watch and when they changed. Although he’d agreed with madame’s suggestion that she leave in full daylight, it would be wise to know how many men had been employed to observe her—and might be sent in pursuit when they discovered she’d fled.

He shook his head again over her unexpected talent for intrigue.

Before seeking his dinner, he would question madame’s friend Clara. He’d not bothered the girl before, having worked out where madame had gone to ground without having to accost the maid. Although the person who’d protected madame would likely be the most reluctant to give him any information, after an interview that had given rise to more questions than it answered, it was worth the attempt to extract from the girl anything that might shed more light on the mystery that was Madame Lefevre.

A woman who thus far hadn’t behaved as he would have expected of an aristocratic Frenchwoman who’d served as hostess to the most important leaders of European society.

Now that he’d confirmed that the woman he’d found was in fact Madame Lefevre, it was time to re-examine his initial assumptions about her.

The speed with which she’d come up with the suggestion that she escape in disguise—masculine disguise, at that—seemed to indicate she’d donned such a costume before. Recalling the grim expression on her face, Will thought it hadn’t been in some amateur theatrical performance for amusement of friends.

‘France has been at war longer than we’ve been alive …’ Had her family been caught up in the slaughter leading from monarchy to republic to empire and back? It seemed likely.

He wished now he’d paused in London to plumb for more detail about the St Arnaud family. Thierry St Arnaud’s employer, Prince Talleyrand, possessed an exceptional skill for survival, having served as Foreign Minister of France during the Republic, Consulate, Empire and now the Restoration. At the Congress of Vienna, the Prince had even managed the unlikely feat of persuading Britain and Austria that France, a country those two allies had fought for more than twenty years, should become their partner against Russia and Prussia.

What remarkable tricks of invention had the St Arnaud clan performed to retain lands and titles through the bloodbath of revolution and empire?

Perhaps, rather than spending her girlhood tucked away at some genteel country estate, madame’s aristocratic family, like so many others, had been forced to escape the guillotine’s blade. They might even have fled to England; the British crown had supported a large émigré community. That would explain her excellent, almost accentless speech.

Or perhaps she was such a mistress of invention because she was one of Talleyrand’s agents. His gut churned at that unpleasant possibility.

But though Will wouldn’t totally discount the idea, Talleyrand was known to be an exacting master. It wouldn’t be like the prince to leave a loose end—like a former agent—flapping alone in the Viennese breeze for over a year; Madame Lefevre would likely have been eliminated or spirited away long since.

Still, it wouldn’t be amiss to behave around her as if she had a professional’s expertise.

He smiled. That would make the matching of wits all the sweeter. And if the opportunity arose to intertwine bodies as well, that would be the sweetest yet.

But enough of carnal thoughts. He couldn’t afford to let lust and curiosity make him forget his goal, or lure him into being less than vigilant. He was certain she intended to try to escape him during their journey, and he’d need to be on his best game to ensure she did not.

As he reached that conclusion, Clara exited madame’s lodgings. Keeping into the shadow of the buildings, Will followed her.

To his good fortune, since the onset of evening and the thinning crowds would make it harder to trail her unobserved, the maid headed for the neighbouring market. He shadowed her as she snapped up the last of the day’s bread, cheese and apples at bargain prices from vendors eager to close up for the night.

The Viennese were a prosperous lot, he noted as he trailed a few stalls behind her, and remarkably careless with their purses. Had he a mind to, he could have snatched half a dozen as he strolled along.

Unable to resist the temptation to test his skill and thinking it might make a good introduction, Will nipped from behind the maid to snag her coin purse while she lingered by the last stall, bidding farewell to the vendor and rearranging the purchases in her market basket.

He followed her from the market until she reached a mostly deserted stretch of street, where the buildings’ overhanging second storeys created a shadowy recess. Picking up his pace, Will strode past her and then turned, herding her towards the wall. With a deep bow, he held out the coin purse.

‘Excuse me, miss, I believe you dropped this.’

With a gasp, she shrank back, then halted. ‘Why … it is my purse! I was sure I put it back into my reticule! How can I thank you, Herr …’ Belatedly looking up, she got a glimpse of his face. ‘You!’

Will bowed again. ‘Will Ransleigh, at your service, miss.’

Alarm battled anger in her face. ‘I should call the authorities and have you arrested for theft!’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘How could you do that, when I’ve just returned your purse? If officials in Vienna arrest every fellow who follows a pretty girl, the jails would be full to overflowing. I mean you no harm.’

She sniffed. ‘I note you don’t deny you took it! But seeing as how you could have just as easily knocked me over the head as given it back, I suppose I’ll not scream the houses down—for the moment. What do you want?’

‘I intend to help your mistress leave the city.’

She looked him up and down, her expression wary. ‘I warned her not to trust you. Oh, I don’t doubt you’ll help her, all right—to do what you want her to. Just like that worthless cousin of hers.’

Remembering madame’s bent and swollen fingers, Will felt a surge of dislike. If he ever encountered Thierry St Arnaud, he’d force the man to test his strength against a more fitting adversary. ‘He intimidated her, didn’t he?’

‘Bastard.’ The maid spat on cobblestones. ‘I only saw him strike her twice, but she almost always had bruises. I’ll not hurt her more by telling you anything.’

‘I appreciate your loyalty. But whatever you can tell me—about her relationship with St Arnaud or my cousin—will help me protect her on the journey. I can do a better job if I’m aware of potential threats before they happen. If I know who’s been watching her, and why.’

Her expression clouded, telling Will she worried about her mistress, too. ‘Herr Ransleigh, your cousin, was an honourable man,’ she said after a moment. ‘You promise to keep her safe?’

‘I promise.’ To his surprise, Will found he meant it.

Clara studied him, obviously still reluctant.

‘You want her to stay safe, too, don’t you?’ he coaxed. ‘How about I tell you what I know and you just confirm it?’

After considering another moment, the maid nodded.

‘You’ve been with your mistress more than a year. She engaged you when she first arrived in Vienna—September 1814, wasn’t it?’

Clara nodded.

‘That last night, before her cousin fled the city, he … hurt her.’

Tears came to the girl’s eyes. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘Badly?’ Will pressed, keeping a tight rein over his rising temper, almost certain now he knew what she would tell him.

‘She was unconscious when I found her. Her ribs broken for sure, and her arm and hand bent and twisted. Didn’t come back to herself for more than a day, and for the first month, I wasn’t sure she would survive. Bastard!’ the maid burst out again. ‘Blaming her for the failure of his foolish plan! Or maybe just taking it out on her that it failed. He was that kind.’

‘You took her from the hotel to rooms at a boarding house and nursed her. Then, once she’d recovered sufficiently, you moved her to the lodgings here,’ Will summed up the trail his search had taken him on.

‘By then, she said she was recovered enough to work. I’d sold jewels for her those first few months, until her bad hand healed enough for her to use the fingers. She started doing embroidery then.’

‘And there were watchers, each place you stayed with her?’

‘I guess there were, though I didn’t notice them until she pointed them out after she got better. I was frightened, but what could they want with her? After a few months, I got used to them hanging about.’

‘Viennese lads, they were.’

‘Yes. I spoke to some of them, trying to see if I could find out anything, but they seemed to know only that a local man hired them. I’m certain someone more important was behind it, but I don’t know who.’

Will filed that observation away. ‘Why is she so insistent on returning to Paris?’

‘Her family’s there, I expect. She never spoke about herself, nor was she the sort who thought only of her own comfort. Waiting for her at the dressmakers or at those grand balls, I heard other maids talking about their ladies. Madame wasn’t like most of them, always difficult and demanding. She was kind. She noticed people and their troubles.’

Her eyes far away, Clara smiled. ‘One night, Klaus the footman had a terrible head cold, hardly able to breathe, poor man. Madame only passed by him in the hall on her way to a reception, but first thing the next morning, she had me fetch herbs and made him a tisane. Not that she made a great fuss about doing so, playing Lady Bountiful. No, she just turned it over to the butler and told him to make sure Klaus drank it.’

‘Did you ever wonder why she’d not brought her own maid to Vienna?’

Clara shrugged. ‘Maybe the woman didn’t want to travel so far. Maybe she couldn’t afford to bring her. I don’t think she had any coin of her own. St Arnaud paid my wages, all the bills for jewels, gowns and the household expenses, but he gave her no pin money at all. She didn’t have even a few schillings to buy ices when we were out.’

So, as she’d claimed, Will noted, madame had been entirely dependent on St Arnaud. ‘She never spoke of any other relations?’

‘No. But if they were all like St Arnaud, I understand why she wouldn’t.’ The maid stopped abruptly, wrinkling her brow. ‘There was one person she mentioned. Several times, when I’d given her laudanum for the pain after St Arnaud had struck her, she murmured a name as she dozed. Philippe.’

Surprise and something barbed and sharp stung him in the gut. Impatiently he dismissed it. ‘Husband … brother … lover?’

‘Not her husband—St Arnaud said he’d died in the wars. I did once ask her who “Philippe” was, but she just smiled and made no answer, and I didn’t want to press. She sounded … longing. Maybe he’s someone she wanted to marry, that her cousin had refused; I can see him sending away anyone he didn’t think grand enough for the St Arnauds. Maybe St Arnaud promised if she helped him in Vienna, he would let her marry the man. I know he had some sort of power to force her to do his will.’

For some reason he’d rather not examine, Will didn’t like the idea of Madame Lefevre pining for a Parisian lover. Shaking his head to rid himself of the image, he said, ‘Madame’s dependence on St Arnaud for food, clothing, housing and position would have been enough to coerce her co-operation.’

‘No, it was more than that,’ Clara insisted. ‘Not that she didn’t appreciate fine silks and pretty gems—who would not? But when she had to, she sold them without any sign of regret. She seemed quite content to live simply, not missing in the least the grand society for whom she used to play hostess. All she spoke about was earning enough coin to return to Paris.’

Not wishing to hear any more speculation about the mysterious “Philippe”, Will changed direction. ‘She’s had no contact with St Arnaud since the night of the attack, then?’

The maid shuddered. ‘Better that he believe she died of her injuries. She came close enough.’

‘St Arnaud emigrated to the Caribbean afterwards.’

‘That, I can’t say. I only know he left Vienna that night. If there’s any justice in the world, someone somewhere caught him and he’s rotting in prison.’

Clara looked up, meeting his gaze squarely. ‘If God has any mercy, once she’s done what you want, you’ll let her go back to Paris. To this Philippe, whoever he is. After all she’s suffered, losing her husband, enduring St Arnaud’s abuse, she deserves some happiness.’

Will wasn’t about to assure the maid he’d send madame back—to Paris or her ‘Philippe’—until he’d finished with her. And resolved what had already flared between them.

Instead, he pulled out a coin. ‘Thank you, Clara. I appreciate—’

‘No need for that,’ the maid interrupted, waving the money away. ‘Use it to keep her safe. You will watch out for her, won’t you? I know if someone wished her ill, they could have moved against her any time this last year. But still … I worry. She’s such a gentle soul, too innocent for this world, perhaps.’

Will remembered the woman in the garden, quietly picking spent blooms from her flowers while a stranger decided whether or not to wring her neck. She was more resigned than gentle or innocent, he thought. As if life had treated her so harshly, she simply accepted evil and injustice, feeling there was little she could do to protect herself from it.

Since his earliest days on the streets, Will had faced down bullies and fought to right wrongs when he found them. Picturing that calm face bent over the blooms and the brutal hand St Arnaud had raised against it, Will felt a surge of protectiveness he didn’t want to feel.

No point getting all worked up over her little tragedy; if she’d ended up abused, she’d played her role with full knowledge of the possible consequences, he reminded himself. Unlike Max, who’d been lured in unawares and betrayed by his own nobility.

And of course the maid thought her a heroine. If she could take in Max, who was nobody’s fool, it would have been child’s play for her to win over a simple, barely educated girl who depended on her for employment.

Suppressing the last of his sympathy towards Madame Lefevre, he nodded a dismissal to her maid. ‘I’ll meet you at the inn in two days.’

Clara nodded. ‘The old man’s disguise—you’re sure you can carry it off?’

‘Can she carry off hers?’

‘She can do whatever she must. She already has. Good-night, sir.’ With an answering nod, the girl walked into the gathering night.

Will turned back towards the inn where he planned to procure dinner, mulling over what he’d learned from Clara.

According to the maid, madame had been brought, without other money or resources, to Vienna and forced to do St Arnaud’s bidding. She cared little about wealth or high position. Her sole ambition was to return to Paris … and ‘Philippe’.

She can do whatever she must, the maid had said. Apparently, betraying Max Ransleigh had been one of those things. Eluding Will and cheating Max of the vindication due him might be another.

She was surely counting on trying to escape him, if not on the road, then once they arrived in Paris. He’d need to remain vigilant to make sure she did not.

From the maid’s reactions, it seemed even she feared the watchers might not be pleased to have her mistress leave Vienna. Madame Lefevre might well have other enemies in addition to the angry cousin of the man she’d ruined.

Her masculine disguise, which he’d first accepted almost as a jest, now looked like a prudent precaution.

For a moment, he envisioned madame’s slender body encased in breeches that outlined her legs, curved over thigh and calf, displayed the turn of an ankle. His mouth watered and his body hardened.

But he couldn’t allow lustful thoughts to distract him—yet. His sole focus now must be on getting her safely to Paris. Because until they reached London, he meant to ensure no one else harmed her.