Miss Lavigne's Little White Lie Page 24

  “I do enjoy wickedness,” he teased, “but that will have to come later. I fear you will be cross if we don’t accompany Serafine and Mr. Tucker on a stroll.”

  “Oui. Cross indeed.”

  Moments later, he and Mr. Tucker followed the ladies at a distance, close enough to keep watch over them, but too far away to overhear their conversation.

  Sweat dripped down the younger man’s face, and his eyes widened when the ladies’ heads dipped together to share some secret.

  “Damnation,” Tucker mumbled.

  “What are they saying?”

  “How the hell would I know? I can’t hear them any better than you can.”

  Irritation surged through Daniel. “You have no clues?”

  What was the bloody trouble? He needed this matter settled today. The Cecily departed in a few days. They would hit the Caribbean at the start of hurricane season if he delayed much longer. A swift pull in his gut served as a reminder of his own troubles. Lisette didn’t yet know he intended to sail without her.

  “Tell me what transpired in the drawing room,” Daniel said through clenched teeth. “You were supposed to offer marriage and make things right.”

  “If you would tend your own affairs, maybe Sera would listen to me.” Tucker skidded to a stop and Daniel turned to glare at him. “She believes you’re forcing me to ask for her hand.”

  “And I am not?”

  “Hell, no! I’ve been miserable since the moment we parted. As soon as I left New Orleans, I knew the horrendous mistake I had made.”

  “Then why didn’t you go back for her?”

  Tucker threw his arms wide. “If I had married Miss Vistoire, my father would have disinherited me. I had nothing without my father’s fortune, no means of supporting her, so I decided to find work in England. I thought once I had saved enough, I would go back for her.”

  Daniel viewed the man with a reluctant measure of respect now. “What type of work?”

  “I’m good at drafting. I’ve studied architecture for several years. Do you know the foundling hospital renovation project?”

  “My sister-in-law’s charity?”

  Tucker nodded. “I drew up the designs, but no one knows it was me. I act as a liaison between members of the ton and Mr. Brown.”

  “And you are Mr. Brown.”

  “Yes, and I beg of you to keep my identity secret. If I am denied access to society, I have no means of earning my keep, much less supporting a wife. As it is, the Earl of Fairmill has commissioned Mr. Brown to draft an addition to his country home. And Mr. Collier is building a cottage for his mistress.”

  Tucker would remain in England, keeping Lisette’s family in the vicinity. Daniel couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.

  He nailed Tucker with his most disapproving glare. “This doesn’t excuse your behavior, you realize. She’ll not easily forget you left her. Women possess long memories.”

  The man sighed, his shoulders drooping. “I know. I should have gone back at once or written, but I never dreamed she would find someone else so quickly. I can’t compete with a nobleman.”

  “Westin? You have nothing to worry about from his direction.” Daniel clapped Tucker on the shoulder and urged him forward on the path. “Rumor has it Westin’s father is in negotiations with the Duke of Ashden, choosing Westin’s bride. Poor sap likely knows nothing about it.”

  “The devil, you say!” A daft grin spread across Tucker’s face.

  Daniel wouldn’t have pegged Tucker as a good match for Serafine, but it was obvious from the dolt’s adoring gazes he was arsey varsey for the lady. Mr. Tucker simply required assistance to win her heart again.

  “You’ll join us for dinner this evening,” Daniel said, “and begin your courtship in earnest.”

  Twenty-nine

  Serafine stepped onto the sidewalk, drew in a deep breath, and regretted it at once. The steamy stench of the summer morning made her stomach lurch. She gripped the iron gate of 17 Curzon to steady herself as a wave of nauseated dizziness washed over her.

  Would this illness ever cease? Damn Isaac for leaving her in this state. Even as she cursed him, a secret smile appeared. Perhaps she wasn’t prepared to forgive him for his shabby treatment yet, but his pitiable attempts to court her these last two days had softened her heart.

  Oddly, Isaac’s lack of savoir faire aided his attempts rather than hurt them as one might expect. Serafine had never cared for the cocksure dandies strutting around New Orleans, believing themselves a prize for any young woman. Isaac had been vastly different from the gentlemen courting her when she had met him months ago. He’d massacred his words when requesting her dance card, blushed throughout the entire minuet, then concluded the evening with spilling a glass of punch down his front. His hopelessly awkward act had deceived her. Isaac had seemed harmless and incapable of hurting her.

  He wouldn’t fool her again.

  Serafine took a moment to get her bearings. A concentrated fog swallowed the grand town houses of Mayfair, making them appear as indistinct bulks. Cautiously, she moved along the walkway with her brother’s last known address written on a piece of paper tucked into her reticule. With Lisette and Daniel still abed and Rafe breaking his fast with his governess, Serafine hoped to reach her brother’s rented rooms and return before anyone discovered her absence.

  Daniel’s inquiries into Xavier’s whereabouts had turned up no answers, but Serafine had to try. With any luck, he would have left something behind. Perhaps a clue could be discovered among his belongings.

  The hack she had ordered waited at the corner. “Morning, miss.” A note of wariness accompanied the driver’s greeting. “Ye traveling wit’ yer maid or chaperone today?”

  She lifted her chin as she took his hand to climb inside the carriage. “I have no need of a chaperone, good sir.” Once settled on the seat, she opened her reticule and extracted the address. “Number four Waverton Street. I will pay extra if you make our destination quickly. I haven’t much time.”

  “Aye, miss.”

  The driver climbed to his spot and slapped the reins, urging the horse along at a plodding pace, much to Serafine’s displeasure. Only a couple of turns later, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of a dark brick building. She could have walked if she’d known how close Xavier’s rooms were and saved herself the cost of fare. Serafine perched on the edge of her seat, a sense of unease settling over her, and waited for the driver’s assistance traversing the carriage steps.

  Once the driver assisted her to the ground, she pulled coins from her reticule and handed them to him. “This should cover the fare.”

  “Do ye want me to wait, miss?”

  “That isn’t necessary. Thank you for your service.”

  He tipped his hat. “Aye, miss.”

  The lack of noise in the neighborhood was unsettling, but by society’s standards, she was awake much too early. She had slowly come to accept most of the ton kept unhealthy hours, although she did not approve.

  Serafine climbed the two front steps and checked the address on the paper. Her destination possessed nothing distinctive to differentiate it from the other two town houses butted up on either side, except for the number four attached to the peeling green door.

  She rang the bell as the hack drove away. The jangle sent a shiver along her spine.

  Someone is watching.

  Whipping around to scan the streets, her gaze darted from side to side, but the dense fog obscured everything from view. A cloud of gray enclosed her in a secret world. Serafine twittered and rolled her neck. How asinine to think anyone could see her. Why, she could barely see the toes of her half boots.

  She turned back to the door, prepared to ring the bell again, but halted as locks tumbled and the door screeched open. A diminutive lady with tousled silver hair and streaks of crimson rouge painted on her cheeks frowned through the crack in the door.

  “What, pray tell, brings you to my door? I only rent to gentlemen.” She opened the door farth
er, wrinkled her nose, and swept her gaze from Serafine’s head to toes. “I run a respectable place, you know.”

  Serafine smiled, ignoring her insinuation. The woman clearly didn’t have her wits about her, not when she had donned her gown backward and had her free hand shoved into a winter muff in this unbearable heat.

  “I have it on good authority you cater to the most honorable of gentlemen,” Serafine replied. “My brother once rented a room from you. Mr. Xavier Vistoire?”

  The woman’s frown deepened. “Him again? I already told the gentlemen before you that Mr. Vistoire disappeared.” Deep lines appeared at the corners of her eyes as she narrowed them. Her pursed mouth formed a tight circle, giving her face the appearance of a dried-up apple core. The woman possessed either bad eyesight or a tendency toward suspicion. Maybe both.

  “He kept late hours, you know.” Her voice gurgled as if she swallowed water as she spoke. “He patronized the gaming hells, and he didn’t pay his rent for the last two months before he vanished. He probably got himself into trouble.”

  Serafine suppressed a wince. Xavier had fallen in with a rough crowd in New Orleans before he left for the Continent, and he had gambled away most of his inheritance. She’d hoped a different locale would give him a new direction for his life. It appeared her hopes were for naught.

  She opened her reticule. “This is precisely my reason for calling today, madame. I have come to settle my brother’s debt and collect his belongings. How much does he owe?”

  “Five pounds. I will only accept pounds, you know. No worthless foreign bills.”

  “Of course.” Serafine forced a polite expression as she dug out the money and placed it in the woman’s emaciated claw. “And two additional pounds for your trouble.”

  The woman snatched the money then flashed a gritted-teeth smile. “Peace and blessings,” she hissed.

  “Oh!” Serafine fell back a step. “Th—thank you.”

  “Come inside, my dear.”

  An eerie sensation shot through her, and she hesitated on the stoop.

  The woman walked farther into the narrow corridor. Her bony shoulder blades jutted through the neckline of the backward gown. “I have your brother’s items in a crate.”

  Serafine shook off her uneasiness and followed, but she left the front door open as a precaution.

  The woman tugged the handle of a door off the foyer. She grunted as she pulled several times. The door surrendered with a crack and flew open, almost sending her to her backside.

  Serafine peeked through the opening. “You store items in the water closet?” Crates filled the small space from floor to ceiling.

  “Here it is.”

  “Allow me to assist.”

  The woman waved her off then stooped low and lifted the crate with a guttural groan. Teetering from the weight of the crate, she pitched against the door frame.

  Serafine jumped to take the burden from her arms. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  The woman rubbed her elbow. “Pardon, dear?”

  “Never mind.” Serafine could see for herself the woman was uninjured, and she didn’t wish to extend her time there unnecessarily. “Please accept my apologies for my brother’s delay in paying his debts.”

  She spun on her heel and rushed out the open door without waiting for a reply. Bustling down the block, she didn’t slow until she reached the corner. Was this the correct way? No landmarks stood out to her as she looked up and down each road, not that she could see much in the haze. She contemplated the best route back to Curzon Street. Should she stay on the current street or turn right?

  She should have paid closer attention on the ride. She couldn’t stand around like a ninny all morning. Lisette and Daniel would be awake and readying themselves for a ride in the park soon. Making a choice, she turned right.

  Halfway up the block, hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. She threw a look over her shoulder. No one was there. Still, the sensation of someone watching her didn’t go away.

  She rushed forward, anxious to reach the next intersection where she recognized the outline of a milk wagon parked along the street. The sound of a boot fall echoed on the sidewalk several feet behind her. She whirled around. “Who’s there?”

  There were no movements in the gray, no flash of color to reveal someone hiding in the fog. Perhaps the old woman’s mental frailty was catching. Nevertheless, Serafine moved with haste toward the next block.

  A carriage passed on the cross street, the horses’ harness jingling, and then another. She would feel better once she reached a busier street with more people. Heavy footsteps echoed on the sidewalk behind her, running.

  Serafine’s heart leapt and she dashed for the street ahead, not daring to look back. The crate and her skirts slowed her down, but she was almost there.

  Her heart pumped brutally and her chest heaved with labored gasps for air. She surged forward to reach the corner before her pursuer caught her and plowed into someone, the forceful blow disorienting her.

  “What the devil?” a startled voice yelped.

  The crate flew from her hands and Serafine tumbled forward too fast to catch herself. Bits of gravel ripped through her gloves as she landed in the lane. Her palms and knees screamed with pain.

  “Watch out!” The panicked voice made her head pop up. A carriage barreled out of the fog toward her. She froze.

  “Sera!” Strong hands gripped her shoulders and hauled her from the ground and out of the way. The wind of the carriage flying past lifted her hat brim. Breathing ceased and everything slowed. Isaac spun her around to face him. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear him.

  She gulped in a lungful of air. The street sounds filtered back into her awareness. The warmth of Isaac’s hands on her arms seeped into her skin.

  “Blasted mad wench,” an angry male voice said. “Watch where ye goin’ next time. Would ’ave served ye right if ye was to get squashed.”

  “Go to the devil,” Isaac snarled then reached up to brush her cheek with his thumb. “For the love of God, Sera, are you injured?”

  She shook her head, too stunned to speak. Why was Isaac here? He had appeared as if he were her guardian angel.

  “What happened?” he asked. “Why are you out alone?”

  Her body quaked. “I—I thought someone was chasing me.”

  “Chasing you? From which direction?” She pointed. Isaac released her and ran a few paces down the block.

  “I don’t see anyone,” he called before turning, stalking back to her, and enfolding her in his arms again. His embrace stirred her emotions. “Don’t you realize it is dangerous to be out alone in London?”

  Xavier’s belongings littered the walkway.

  “Oh!” She broke free of Isaac’s arms and dropped to her knees to snatch the items before they became lost to her: a shaving brush, a comb, a mix of cuff links, and a letter. Her fingers brushed over Xavier’s name on the missive. She opened the missive and scanned the contents. It was the letter her uncle’s solicitor had sent long ago notifying Xavier of their uncle’s death and urging him to return to New Orleans. She would read it later this evening.

  “Let me help you.” Isaac joined her on the ground. His hand touched hers as they gathered the items and returned them to the crate.

  “It’s Xavier’s belongings.” Her voice quivered.

  “Is this all that’s left?”

  This is all I have left. Isaac’s image blurred. Her brother was gone and all that was left of him was the sum of a few items that didn’t fill a crate.

  “Oh, Sera. Please, don’t cry.” Isaac pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to her. “Please, darling.”

  She refused his offering. “I’m not crying. Take it back.” Even as she denied her emotions, salty tears rolled down her cheeks.

  He touched the handkerchief to her cheeks. “Of course you aren’t, darling.”

  Damn his tenderness. “I need help standing.”

  Gripping under her arm, Isaa
c helped her to her feet then picked up the crate.

  “What are you doing here, Isaac?”

  “I came to request an audience, but I can come back. I realize it’s early to call, but I couldn’t sleep.” His face flushed a deep crimson. “I couldn’t stop myself from seeking you out. You must think me foolish.”

  Serafine began to recognize her surroundings since the fog had dissipated some. They were three houses down from her cousin’s town house.

  Isaac shifted the crate to one arm and offered his elbow. “Sera, I’m sorry you didn’t locate Xavier, but you mustn’t give up hope.” His eyes lit with love and compassion, washing over her and covering her fully. “I’ll help you search.”

  His clumsy attempt at comfort brought fresh tears to her eyes. Did she dare to trust him now? She didn’t have it in her to watch him walk away again.

  She wiped her tears and sniffled. “You can never again hurt me as you did, Isaac Tucker. I won’t stand for it.”

  His eyes widened and his handsome face took on a somber expression. “On my honor, Serafine, I will treat you like the most precious of treasures if you allow me another chance.”

  He sounded so sincere, she couldn’t help but to smile. “You need not wait until later to call on me. Come make your offer like a proper gentleman. I shan’t deny you this time. Then I have something I must share with you.”

  ***

  “Please take this crate to my chambers.”

  Lisette perked up hearing her cousin’s voice outside the breakfast room. “Serafine is awake,” she said to Daniel. “Perhaps she would like to join us in the park.”

  She slipped from the skirted dining room chair, swept into the corridor, and came up short. “Monsieur Tucker? What a surprise.”

  The man’s face flamed, and he stepped in front of Serafine to shield her from view. Lisette leaned to the side and tried to peek around him. “Serafine, is there a problem?”

  “It’s all right, Isaac.” Her cousin eased Monsieur Tucker aside.

  “Mon dieu. What happened to your gown?” Serafine’s pale yellow skirts sported vast streaks of dirt, a small tear, and possibly a spot of blood.