Chapter Twenty-Four
Aldric heard fear in Céleste’s voice. And she’d spoken in English, which meant she didn’t want Adèle to understand what she was saying. “What is it?”
“There is a note in Adèle’s book. I know it wasn’t there yesterday.”
A quick glance showed she was watching him and holding up a folded piece of parchment.
“What does it say?”
She read aloud haltingly, no doubt because she was translating the contents into English.
I told you I would reclaim what has been taken from me one Fortier at a time if I must, but I am not unwilling to accept repayment in Benicks as well.
A blasted, pointed threat.
“You weren’t at the ball on our last night in Paris,” Céleste said, “but the man who tried to abduct me said he would be recompensed for what had been taken from him even if he had to reclaim it ‘one Fortier at a time.’ He intends to harm the members of this family as revenge, and now he’s clearly referencing you as well. He—”
“Tante Céleste, you are not reading me a story.” Adèle’s complaint was lodged in French, the only language she knew.
Céleste returned to French for her answer. “I will in a moment, dear. I need to talk to tonton Aldric first.”
“Tonton Aldric.” Adèle pulled his name out long, in a tone of severely tried patience. “She isn’t reading me a story.”
The little girl had, in all actuality, been very well behaved and patient throughout the long days on the road. He could hardly be frustrated with her that she was, only now, letting herself express a little exasperation.
To Céleste, he said, in English, “Perhaps choose a very short story to read to her so she won’t feel neglected. While you do, I’ll ponder this new difficulty of ours.”
She took up a tale. Aldric didn’t listen closely.
His mind was spinning. A repeat of the threats made to Céleste in Paris meant the note had to have been connected to Jean-Francois’s extortion scheme and the people he had victimized, people they’d not been able to identify.
The threat of violence in the countryside and the actual violence that had descended on Fleur-de-la-Forêt had occupied Aldric’s concerns so fully the past few days that he’d nearly forgotten that threat.
But it had found them.
The note hadn’t been in the book the day before.
It had to have been put inside last night.
The book was in the public room with them; Adèle had brought it.
But the book hadn’t been across the room.
It had sat right by them. This man who was threatening Henri’s family had been near enough to touch Céleste or Adèle, near enough to snatch either one of them away.
Aldric hadn’t had any idea. How could he possibly keep them all safe if he was so inept at knowing when they were in danger?
At some point during his pondering, Céleste and Adèle had switched roles. The little girl was telling a story. Céleste gave every indication of listening, but the quickest of glances in her direction revealed she was watching him.
Aldric shifted the reins into one hand and, with the other, reached over and took hers.
He squeezed it, hoping to offer comfort, a little reassurance, even something of an apology.
She was under threat, running, attempting to protect Adèle, and she had every right to expect more of him than he was managing.
She held fast to his hand, likely intending to do so for only a brief moment, but he was reluctant to let go.
He’d reached out to offer her comfort but was finding it himself.
Among the Gents, he often felt rather alone.
His friends never did anything to cause those feelings.
He knew perfectly well that they all cared for one another like family and thought of him that way.
They were the brothers Stanley had promised they would be.
Being part of his family had never been good for anyone.
Aldric slipped his hand free of Céleste’s and retook the reins, hoping she would assume that was the only reason he’d let go. She was drawing him in, whether she realized it or not, and he needed to be careful.
Adèle and Céleste took turns telling stories, singing little songs, and talking about flowers as they continued down the road. No one else came into view. No carriages followed them. No one joined this larger road from the smaller ones they occasionally passed.
Yet the threat was real and had been present at the inn the night before.
The note writer most likely knew when they’d left and which direction they’d gone.
So what ought they to do now? They could push on and travel as far as possible that day, hoping to find someplace to stop when they and the horse simply couldn’t go any farther.
But that was a monumental risk. If they were required to stop on the side of the road, far from any options for help or assistance, they would be entirely vulnerable.
But being at an inn the night before hadn’t kept them entirely safe either.
They traveled on for a few more hours before he spotted L’Auberge du Chêne Vert, the inn that had been recommended to them the day before.
It wasn’t yet dusk, and they could travel on for a time without the darkness being much of a difficulty, getting them closer to Montbergerie.
But this was a reputable inn and quite possibly the last reputable inn for some distance. There seemed to be no good options.
“Ought we to stop or continue on?” It was the first thing he’d said to Céleste in more than an hour. There was so much to think about, and she was working so hard to keep Adèle occupied. Conversation had been low on the list of priorities.
“I think we should stop,” she said. “We could press on, but I think we’d do better to know where and what we are pressing on toward.”
Wise. “I sometimes wonder how I managed to strategize at all without you to consult with.”
“Are you being sarcastic?” she asked.
He looked quickly at her. “Heavens, no. Did that sound sarcastic?”
“No.” Her brow knit. “I’m entirely unaccustomed to compliments. Apparently, I am not overly skilled at recognizing sincere ones.”
If ever a man needed a punch in the nose, Jean-Francois did.
Upon stopping at the inn, they undertook the ritual they had so quickly become familiar with. They spilled out of the cart, carrying the various bags, the violin, the basket, and keeping hold of Adèle’s hand. Aldric arranged for a room, grateful one was available.
Céleste and Adèle stayed in that room, the door locked, while Aldric took the horse and cart to the stables.
He managed the task swiftly and even found a discarded tricorn hat behind the building that would help further disguise him.
By the time he returned, locking the door behind him once more, Céleste had laid out the blanket with a few toys for Adèle, and the little girl was happily stretched out, playing with her carved animals.
Aldric joined Céleste in the far corner, a bit away from Adèle.
“You have a new hat,” she said.
“It’s too battered to be new, but it’s new to me. And it’ll disguise me a bit, which might help keep our pursuer at bay.”
She took his hand and held his gaze. There was a fierceness mingled with pleading in her eyes. And when she spoke, she did so in English. “I don’t think we ought to go to Montbergerie.”
He adjusted his hand enough to thread their fingers. “I have been having the same thought.” It was the first time he had acknowledged it though. “The note identified my family, and the writer of it might very well know my family’s ownership of that estate. He would think to look for us there.”
Her breaths were a bit strained. “We dare not try any of the Fortier holdings. And though I had thought of the possibility of going to Nicolette’s family home, the letter writer might also know of that connection.” She looked worn to a thread. “Where, then, can we possibly go?”
“I suspect”—he hesitated a moment, realizing the enormity of what he was about to suggest—“our best option is to go to England.”
She shook her head. “With Henri still in France, I have nowhere to go in England.”
“I am going to choose not to take offense at that, Céleste Fortier, because I suspect your oldest brother and your late father left you as unfamiliar with basic benevolence as you are with genuine admiration.”
She looked immediately crestfallen. “I hadn’t meant to imply you were unkind or selfish.”
And he hadn’t intended to wound her feelings. “Why don’t we both agree that we’re coming at this situation at a disadvantage and choose to view each other through a lens of generosity?”
“I would appreciate that.” Her smile remained a little tentative.
Getting back to the matter at hand would allow her a bit of an escape from her perceived offense.
“Regardless of which port town we embark from, we have a few more nights on the road before arriving there.” He kept hold of her hand, and she made no effort to slip away.
“I don’t have a great deal of money with me, and I suspect you don’t either. ”
She shook her head. “None at all.”
They were in a conundrum. “I never saw another carriage on the road today. Did you while I was sleeping this morning?”
“No.”
“I wish I could believe that means we aren’t being followed, but I don’t feel overly certain of anything just now.”
“There is something I am certain of.” Her expression grew ever more strained. “Though the man in the ballroom whose words are referenced in the note we found was clearly attempting to disguise his voice, I have heard it before.”
Which only limited the list of possible speakers a little. Céleste knew most of Paris Society and interacted with shopkeepers and others.
“You didn’t see his face though?” Aldric asked.
She released another tense breath, something he’d come to recognize as her attempt at calming her worries. “It was dark, and there were too many candles.”
“Too many candles?” Surely more candles would be helpful rather than a hindrance.
She either didn’t hear his question or was choosing not to answer it. “We, apparently, saw him last night but didn’t recognize anyone in the public room. I don’t like feeling helpless.”
“Me either,” he said. “It is something I experience far too often where my nephew is concerned.”
“Perhaps, while Adèle is at Norwood Manor, your brother might be convinced to allow Roderick to visit,” Céleste said. “I think the children would enjoy playing together. And it would be good for you and your nephew to spend time together.”
“What is good for either of us has never been a priority of my brother’s.”
“I wish I didn’t understand that as well as I do.”
She closed the single step that separated them and leaned against him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her. He felt the strength of that simple touch clear to his soul.
Aldric had, in the past, been the recipient of female attention.
He’d been part of a few harmless flirtations.
While he’d enjoyed those moments, he’d never felt strengthened by them, buoyed up, reinforced.
It wasn’t something he’d realized was even possible.
He’d assumed such things were always heart flutters and anticipatory racings of the pulse.
He did feel a bit of that with her in his arms, especially when noticing her golden hair, having partially escaped the simple knot it was pulled up in, had an intriguing wave to it.
But it was the feeling of home that caught him most off guard.
It was a feeling he had learned at a young age not to trust.
Feeling it now, he didn’t want to let go.