Chapter Thirteen
L ou sat in her office waiting for Beatrix to join her. She’d met with Katerina, Elena, and Mary Margaret that morning to share the news of her temporary departure for her childhood home, much to their surprise. Elena had agreed to handle anything to do with security at The Market and any jobs which came in, though she doubted Holt would be passing anything to them at the moment. Until they sorted out how someone infiltrated their protocol, it was far too dangerous.
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Looking around the space, pleasure welled as Lou noted all the changes she’d made to make it her own. The delicate cherry wood desk with scrolled legs where she conducted all of her business. The framed pressings of purple mums, her mother’s favorite flowers. The aubergine and sage green Aubusson carpet that cushioned her steps and warmed the room. The matching chairs and settee in eggplant with sage green accent pillows. She loved this room, and it felt like she was giving up her home, even if it was only meant to be a temporary absence. A pang of sadness rippled through her pleasure like a stone tossed in a placid lake.
Lou dragged her hands down her face and fought the urge to send a note to Griff that it wasn’t possible to follow through on their agreement. She couldn’t go back there, she just couldn’t.
Just then, a knock sounded on her door.
“Enter,” she called out, though she was well aware of who it would be.
Yet it was not Beatrix, but Phillipe who entered, bearing a silver salver. “A message arrived for you, Madame.”
He presented the message to her then left as quickly as he’d come.
Odd . She wasn’t expecting any one to contact her. Lou opened the message, breaking the unfamiliar wax seal and read the scrawled words on the page.
He still lives. Finish the job or suffer the consequences.
Lou growled at the threat. It was vague, but she could only imagine that any ‘consequences’ would be unpleasant. Griff had been spot on with his suggestion that she might be in danger too for not killing him.
Another knock on the door sounded, and she suspected it would finally be the person she had been expecting. Folding the note up she shoved it into her pocket. “Come in.”
Beatrix entered with a smile. “You are up early this morning, Madame.”
Lou huffed and motioned for her protégé to sit down across from her. “You’ll understand why shortly, Trix.”
“I’m intrigued,” Trix said silkily as she perched on the edge of the proffered chair.
Lou drew in a deep, fortifying breath. Beatrix was one of the few people who worked at The Market and knew this place was a cover for Lou and the other three assassins. She could be trusted. I must learn to trust. “You may have heard that I am under contract with Lord Melton.”
Trix tutted. “Surely you didn’t bring me here at this hour to discuss week-old gossip.” She casually flipped her red curls back over her shoulder.
“Of course not. There has been a…a complication with Lord Melton which requires me to move out of The Market temporarily. Since I cannot live elsewhere and properly run day-to-day operations here, I am asking you to take over. We had previously discussed you taking over The Market one day, so I thought this would be an excellent opportunity to begin working toward that eventuality.”
“I…I see. And may I ask what the complication was?” Trix was all business now, straightening up as her gaze focused. This was precisely why Lou had identified her as the best candidate to take over The Market one day. The woman knew when to be easy and when to get down to business. She read people almost as well as Lou herself.
“No. I am not prepared to discuss it with you, or anyone.” Lou was decisive and would brook no argument on this point. The fewer people who knew what was happening the better. “I am sure you understand.”
“And is there anything related to this complication that might land on my doorstep while I am in control of The Market?”
Lou could see the gears turning behind Trix’s grey eyes. “No—not at present. If that should change, I shall alert you and make you aware of what you need to know. For now, all should remain separate.” She picked up a sheaf of papers on her desk and tapped the bottom edges against the surface. “I would like to go through everything you do need to know about the running of the house in my absence. I have a number of repairs scheduled, there are two new members being vetted, and I have a few contracts in negotiations that you will need to finish out.”
Trix nodded, excitement glittering in her eyes. “Then we should get to work. I am sure you have much to attend to with a temporary move.”
Lou repressed her sigh of discontent. There was much to do, and she looked forward to none of it. Ignoring the disquiet that stabbed through her soul like a steam whistle piercing the silence, she got to work turning over The Market to Trix.
Temporarily.
After being sequestered with Trix for most of the morning, Lou somehow found herself standing on the front stoop of her childhood home. The door was painted a hunter green, different from the simple black it had been painted when…when her parents had been alive.
Should I knock on the door? Or simply turn the knob and enter? It was her home. Why shouldn’t she just walk inside?
Of course she knew the Moores, the couple she had hired to take care of the house sixteen years ago. Even then, she hadn’t been able to give the kindly couple a tour, but had sent them in alone while she waited outside. They kept things tidy and ensured any maintenance issues were managed. They sent her a monthly written report of the house via her solicitor and, when required, she met with Mr. Moore at her solicitor’s office. She had never came to the house, and he had never set foot in The Market. Their arrangement had worked well for many years.
At least, until now.
Lou sighed and stepped forward before turning the knob on the door. It turned easily in her hand, obviously well-oiled and cared for. That was a good sign. She pushed the door open and came face to face with Mrs. Moore. She was older than the last time Lou saw her, with streaks of grey slashing through her golden-brown hair.
The woman smiled at Lou. “Well, I was beginning to wonder how long you were going to stand outside your own door before coming inside.” She clapped her hands delightedly. “You look just the same as I remember you.”
Lou’s heart squeezed. She remembered the woman being cheerful and outspoken. Clearly, my memory did not embellish reality . “Well, I’m not sure I am just the same, but thank you. I’m afraid I wasn’t quite sure what the proper thing to do was under the circumstances. I finally decided that if I was paying the bills, I could simply walk in.”
Though taking that first step was currently proving rather difficult, and not just because the older woman was standing in the entryway.
“Well, you’ve made your choice, don’t stop now.” Mrs. Moore smiled brightly and moved out of the way.
Lou coughed back a laugh and nodded. “Yes. Right.”
She stepped into the immaculately kept house, all the furniture under holland covers. Nevertheless, she couldn’t see a speck of dust anywhere. Lou was sure it would cower in the face of Mrs. Moore’s duster and sunshine countenance.
“I’m afraid we aren’t really prepared for you to visit us today. If you’ll give me a moment I can at least uncover the furniture in the front salon for you.” Mrs. Moore stepped briskly over to a door just off the main entry.
“My apologies, I didn’t think about the state the house would be in after all these years. Though I must say you and Mr. Moore have lived up to your reports.” Lou stopped her as she swept the door of the salon open. “But please, could we simply sit in the kitchen and chat? And if your husband could join us, that would be best. What I have to say affects you both.”
Surprise had Mrs. Moore’s eyebrows winging up to nearly her hairline. “Very well, ma’am. Follow me and I shall get you settled with a spot of tea before I go find my husband.”
“Thank you.” Lou smiled and trailed after the indomitable woman. She envied her such confidence and comfort in this space, but then she supposed Mrs. Moore hadn’t lost her own parents in this very house.
Taking a deep, bracing breath, Lou stepped into the kitchen. Memories assailed her as she walked into the neatly kept, if slightly more modern, space than she remembered. Flashes of memories overwhelmed her; standing with her mother as she baked bread, Cook preparing dinner, the mingled scents in the air…
Her mother had loved to bake. She always said she found it relaxing. Lou often conjured images of her mother when she smelled freshly baked bread.
Another woman’s voice cut through her memories. “Sit here at our little table and I’ll just get the tea poured. I had just put a pot on when I went to check on something in the house and spotted you outside.” Mrs. Moore waved Lou toward the table as she bustled around the kitchen.
A few moments later and the kettle whistled with a piercing scream that caused Lou to jump. Being in this house unnerved her to a surprising degree. She supposed that was why she had stayed away…but now there was nothing for it. She needed a proper residence to maintain the facade she and Griff were creating.
Mrs. Moore set a pot of tea on the table—Lou’s preferred blend, she noted as the scents of bergamot and jasmine wafted to her nose—quickly followed by one scone for each of them and teacups. She’d had tea only the once with Mrs. Moore, when they’d first met. Had the woman remembered from all that time ago, or was it merely coincidence? Either way, Lou found it comforting.
“Let me fetch Mr. Moore. I’ll be right back, ma’am.” Mrs. Moore curtsied and bustled briskly through the door they had entered.
Lou sat there alone and shivered. I can do this. She could live in this house for a short while. She would occupy one of the guest rooms—certainly not the master chamber where…no, she would not think about that horrible night.
Pushing the grisly images aside, she focused on the happy memories she held of the house. She remembered chasing one of the stableboys through the house while playing hide and seek, and the wonderful festive seasons they had spent together as a family. Christmas had been her favorite, of course.
Shaking her head, she reached for the pot of tea and poured just as Mr. and Mrs. Moore appeared.
Mr. Moore bowed low. “Ma’am, it is good to see you again.”
“Please, sit. Both of you.” She gestured toward the chairs. “Tea?”
“Please, ma’am—oh, let me.” Mrs. Moore sat down and made to reach for the pot.
“I am quite capable of pouring tea.” Lou continued pouring as she spoke. “I am here because I shall be moving into the house immediately. We shall need to hire some additional staff, though I should like to keep it to a minimum. I have a lady’s maid who will be coming with all of my trunks shortly and can help set my rooms to rights. Mrs. Moore, would you prefer to remain as housekeeper or cook? I should think one or the other role will fill your days with my being here.”
Mrs. Moore considered. “Housekeeper. I’ve been running this house for nearly twenty years. I’m not about to turn over the running of it to a stranger now,” she chirped merrily. “I think we can make do with two maids and one footman who can act as under butler as well.”
Mr. Moore nodded, remaining silent unless prodded to speak. It seemed Mrs. Moore was the one in charge in this house, which suited Lou just fine.
“Excellent. Then we’ll also need a cook and possibly one additional helper in the kitchen. I appreciate you two being so flexible about this sudden shift in your roles.” Lou smiled as she sipped her tea, ignoring her frantically racing heart.
“Nonsense, it will be a delightful change to have people in this house.” Mrs. Moore nodded decisively, as though she had the last word on the subject.
Lou smiled as she set her tea down and reached for a scone. As she picked up the baked good, her hand shook and her mouth went dry. Her mother had made the best scones. She was always sneaking into the kitchen and stealing them as a girl.
With that unwelcome intrusion from her past, she set the pastry down and stood. “Thank you for the tea, it was delightful. I think I shall head upstairs and begin preparing my rooms for my maid, Cord- um, Davies’ arrival.”
Mrs. Moore stood. “Let me help you with that.”
Lou raised a hand up, holding it palm out. “No, please. If you can send word around to the employment agency about the staff that would be immensely helpful.”
“Very well, ma’am.” Mrs. Moore conceded, though it seemed she truly wanted to help Lou upstairs first.
Lou left her servants and headed upstairs, each step a test of her will to remain in the shadow filled home. On the second floor, she knew if she continued upstairs, she would find her old nursery. If she went left, she would come to her parents’ chambers. Her gut clenched and her breath squeezed in her chest.
Not yet. Perhaps not ever.
Walking straight forward from the stairs without looking left or right, Lou approached the guest chamber, refusing to look at the door to her parent’s room. She stepped into the space and her breath stalled. It was done in different shades than her mother’s rose colored room, but the layout was a mirror image to what she remembered. Done up in a cheery yellow and blue motif—despite the holland covers draped over the furniture—she tried to see past the images clouding her brain. The visual of her mother sprawled across her canopy bed, blood soaking into the comforter beneath her as her unseeing eyes stared up at the ceiling. The horror on her face seemed to be permanently etched there for Lou to relive when these memories surfaced.
Turning to the connecting door, in her mind Lou saw her father laying there face down with his arm outstretched toward her mother. Again, blood pooled beneath him, but when she looked beyond him, she could see the trail from where he had dragged himself toward her mother, to no avail.
A shudder ripped through Lou as the first tear slipped free. She stood there gasping for breath as the deluge unleashed.
Her knees gave out as a sob broke free from her chest. She sank to the floor and once again mourned her parents, mourned for the young girl she’d been that night when she’d discovered them, mourned for the childhood she lost in her pursuit of revenge. While she had achieved her goal and taken the life of the man who took her parents from her, as well as the man who had ordered their deaths, she could never gain those years of her youth back. Years which were stolen from her in so many ways.
Strong, feminine arms wrapped around her and began rocking her in a soothing manner. She could just make out Cordelia handing her a handkerchief as she crooned, “That’s it, let it all out. All that pent-up grief.”
Lou sniffed and used the square of fabric as she slowly brought her tears under control. By the time she had ceased the flow of water, she was able to draw a full breath as well. “Th-Thank you, Cordelia.”
“I always wondered when this might come. You never seemed to properly mourn your loss, and for the longest time it worried me.”
Lou patted her hand where it wrapped around her arm. “I-I had thought I’d gotten this out last night.” She sniffed softly. “I knew coming to this house would stir up old memories. It seems knowing a thing and experiencing it are two very different things.” She sighed heavily. “I suppose we should get off this floor and see about setting this room to rights.”
“If you’re up to such activity, madam.” Cordelia clambered to her feet first then reached down to help Lou to hers.
“I must press on.” Lou dabbed at her eyes and nose once more. In order to protect Griff from seemingly certain death, she needed to uphold the charade of their engagement. Her grief simply didn’t factor into the situation. Hopefully, she could keep her heart as well—because the more time she spent with him, the more she liked him. “Let’s get to work. I should send a note to Lord Melton as I promised.”
“Very good, madam.” Cordelia set to coordinating the delivery of her trunks and together they unpacked them. All the while, Lou thought not only of her parents, but how her feelings were complicating the situation with Griff.
How many of the assassin’s rules she’d always lived by would she break?
The next morning, Griff replied to the note Lou had sent.
Dearest Lou,
I am pleased to hear you are settled in your new abode. If you are available tonight, perhaps I can enjoy a tour before I collect you for a masquerade ball at nine o’clock? Elaborate costumes are not required, a simple domino mask should suffice. I do hope you’ll agree to attend, despite the short notice. I believe it will be worth our while to attend, I’ll explain more when I see you.
Ever yours,
Griff
Lou bit her lip and considered. Worth their while? Had he learned something? There surely could be no other reason for breaking both their decision to lie low, and their agreement to keep her role as his ‘fiancée’ out of Society’s sights.
She, of course, had a costume. She had many after all, since The Market regularly held themed nights…but would any of them be appropriate for the event he is taking her to?
Dearest Griff,
I would be happy to give you a tour of my home as well as attend the masquerade with you. I shall be dressed and ready at nine o’clock. I shall see you then.
Yours truly,
Lou
She turned to go in search of Cordelia. They had much to do to select an appropriate costume and be ready for a masquerade that very night.
And that little flip of her stomach at the idea of attending a ball with Griff? Well, she was simply going to ignore that. It couldn’t mean a thing. Could it?