“Francine had more wine than any of us and she began to sing. She’s a truly awful singer. Anyway. Ezzie got scared and came to me. She said she didn’t care for the man who was partnered to her. She wanted to leave. I told her I’d think of a plan. And so I piled a few bits of dinner on my plate. Cold, it was. I had only the cheese. And then I thought of what to do. I told Ezzie we should pretend to be ill. From the wine, of course.”
Marianne nodded. “And?”
Ada brightened. “I went to get Ezzie and told her to pretend to be ill from the wine. We saw Francine as we left. She was…um…”
“Where?”
“Outside with the man she’d paired with, kissing him.”
“Do you know that man? His name?”
“I do.”
“And the man who was paired to Ezzie?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Uncle Killian had asked her to get the names of the men who were at the cottage. Marianne had no doubts he would confront the men and Francine’s mother for their behavior. The repercussions would be ugly. “And did Ezzie’s gentleman—I use the term loosely—accost her?”
Ada shook her head. “No, she swears not. She wouldn’t let him.”
“And Monsieur Durant?” Marianne asked her, hoping for the best. “What was his behavior toward you?”
“A gentleman. I assure you, Marianne. A complete gentleman. In fact, he saw that I was upset and wanted to leave. He watched me, stood beside the back door when I led Ezzie out of the house.”
“What did you and Ezzie do next?”
“I walked her to her hotel. She was so upset. I told her she mustn’t cry and attract attention. I took her around to the hotel’s servants’ entrance. Then I hurried to our hotel. By myself.”
“Along the promenade?”
“Yes. It’s a short walk but I thought it took years.”
Marianne had once walked from chaos to safety. The journey had taken four days. Three days running and hiding in the woods without only a bit of bread and a canteen of water. One day on a rickety train from Washington City to Baltimore. She covered her mouth with her hand, forcing back a groan. She hadn’t thought of her walk from Confederate territory across Union lines in ages. She straightened and brought herself back to the issue at hand. “And what was your behavior?”
“I was not singing, if that’s what you mean. Papa said someone told him I was singing. That’s a lie. Whoever said that is mean. Why would I call attention to myself when all I wished to do was get inside to our suite and crawl into bed?”
“Where was Pierce? Chaumont? Uncle Killian?”
“All out. Thank god. Or so I thought at the time. No one saw me come in.”
“No hired maid was in the family suite?”
“None. No one saw me.”
“And you met no one along the promenade whom you knew?”
“None.”
Might this be an incident society never learned about?
“Well, my dear,” she told her cousin. “You are to be commended for your solution to a thorny problem. It remains to be seen if the world knows of it. But Ezzie should thank you. Her mother too. As for Francine and her mother, I think that your father will have a few harsh words with them. Francine may suffer worse if the man she was with showed her any more affections than his kisses.”
“It would be awful if she was to become…well, you know.”
“Pregnant?” Marianne used the boldest term to signify the worst results and to jolt her cousin to reality.
“Yes. Pregnant.”
Marianne had compassion for Ada. For any young woman led astray when confusing lust with love. “Even so, my dear, Francine might be made to marry him. Perhaps that was even the plan. We shall learn from Mrs. Lang for certain.”
Ada quivered. Tears reappeared in her eyes. “Oh, that’s awful. To marry a man who treated you badly? That’s…”
A crime. “Yes. I hope you see for yourself what errant behavior can do to a woman.”
“Of course I do.” She ran to Marianne and sank down, clutching her hands. “Please don’t send me back to America. I know I’m awful and I deserve to be punished. But please don’t do this. I like it here. I like being with all of you again. School was horrible. All those girls fighting over hair ribbons and arguing like cats.”
That was a surprise. “I thought you liked it there.”
“I hated it.”
“But your letters?”
“I told you it was grand because that’s what all of you expected of me.”
Marianne understood that practice far too well. She’d done that through her marriage and through the war. “It’s true?”
“Yes. I smiled and was polite but I couldn’t wait to leave and sail off with Pierce to join all of you. Now Lily’s married and you’re with Remy. Papa is wonderful but he dotes on my every move. Pierce is…a man. And Papa doesn’t need to breathe down his neck. Please, Marianne, don’t let him send me back. I’d be so lonely.”
Marianne knew what prices loneliness extracted. She hadn’t been lonely since Killian had welcomed her into the Hanniford fold at the end of the war. “It’s not for me to decide, Ada. But truly, I agree with you. The worst possible result would be for you to return to Baltimore.”
“Papa says Texas. Just because I said it, he threatens me with the ranch.”
“I doubt he’d do that.”
“You won’t let him. Say you won’t.”
“I’ll try, Ada.”
“But if you tell him you don’t want to go to Texas. Not Baltimore either. He’ll listen you.”
“I doubt that, Ada. You see, if he sends you home, I told him I won’t be going with you.”
Ada drew back. “What will you do?”
Since last night when she’d said the same to her uncle, Marianne had asked herself that often. She’d walked into Andre’s embrace as Killian left the house and Carré shut the door upon them. But she had no answers. No real answers. Enchanted with Andre, she wanted the dream to continue. But could she hope for that with him when she’d argued against it so often?
“You’d stay here in Paris?” Ada asked her, her crystal blue eyes bright with worry. “Would you live with Remy?”
Would I? I’d asked him not to question me about my plans for the future. He’d honored that promise. Her choice was, as it always had been, hers. Hers, alone.
“I haven’t decided.” She pushed a tendril of Ada’s hair back from her cheek. “But like you, I want to stay in Paris. I want to live here. I want to work here.”
“Work? Oh, no. What will Papa say of that?”
“He won’t approve.” Marianne was certain of that.
“But how can you do it if he doesn’t?”
I can and should if his view is irrelevant. If my choice is for me, by me. But to answer that aloud would be to fuel Ada’s rebellion and she mustn’t do that. The girl had made poor choices. Now she must make better ones. By herself.
A knock came at the door.
“That might be Papa.”
“I doubt it. I told him I would see him in his office when we were finished here.”
“Come in,” Ada called in response to another rap.
Foster, his droopy eyes uncharacteristically wide with shock, appeared before them and on his heel, stood Julian Ash, the Duke of Seton.
“Julian!” Marianne shot to her feet to greet him. He wore a wild expression similar to that of Killian’s last night. “What’s wrong?”
“Is Lily here?”
“What? What? She’s not with you?” Marianne asked him.
“How can that be?” Ada shook her head.
“Is she here?” he asked, his voice rough.
“No,” Marianne blurted. “No!”
“We’ve had so few letters from you,” Julian said. His eyes were red and weary, his attire disheveled. He must not have stopped at the train station to even comb his hair. “When Lily didn’t return to me, I thought perhaps she’d come here and told all of you not to write
.”
“Where has she gone?” Marianne couldn’t believe her ears. Horrified, she seized his arm and led him into the room. Stabbed by guilt she hadn’t written to Lily let alone thought about her these past few weeks, she told him what he needed to know. “The family has been in Cherbourg. On vacation—”
“Julian?” Killian charged through the doorway. “Foster told me to come at once. What’s wrong? What are you doing here and where’s—?”
“Lily. I came to find her.”
Marianne clutched her hands.
Ada sank to the settee.
Killian went white. “What do you mean?”
“She’s left me.”
“What?” Killian’s outrage rang through the room. “How? Why?”
“We’ve had our challenges,” Julian said, meeting his father-in-law’s stare with determination.
Killian snorted. “I’ll bet. My first guess would be your mother.”
“I’ve taken care of her.”
“By what? Sending her to deepest Africa?” Killian fumed.
“I might try that,” Julian responded.
“What happened to Lily?” Killian demanded.
“Without a word, she has left. No note. No indication of where. I’ve tracked her from the countryside by coach. I’ve been to Willowreach and Ashford. I’ve checked in London. I’ve put my solicitor on the job to trace her. There is nothing. Nothing. So if she’s not here, would she have returned to America?”
Killian, Ada and Marianne checked each other’s expressions.
“No,” said Ada.
“I doubt it,” said Marianne. Lily loved this man. What could be so horrible that she would she leave him?
Julian winced and shook his head.
“Our Lily is no weakling,” Killian declared. “But to be alone? Alone? What happened? You can’t come here, drop this on us and not give me some rationale.”
“I didn’t cure our mutual problems early enough. She grew…away from me. More than that, I’m not certain. I’ve had so much to do to take on the duchy that I ignored her and I…I lost her.”
“Christ.” Killian went for the bell pull.
“I’m right here, sir,” Foster said, stepping forward. He’d never left the drawing room.
“Brandy. Get us a bottle. Tea, too. Food, please. Here.” His gaze ran over Julian. “You look like hell.”
Julian inhaled and nodded.
“Have the maids prepare a room, Foster. Did you bring luggage?” he asked Julian.
“Only my satchel. A few shaving items.”
“Sit down. Tell us details. All of them again. What you’ve learned. Where you’ve looked.”
“I’ll bid you good night.” Julian made his apologies to the three of them and went up to try to sleep. He’d talked himself out and planned to depart in the morning, returning to London. He’d told Killian he’d hire a special solicitor whose specialty was searching for missing people.
Killian said he’d send telegrams to New York, Baltimore and Corpus Christi to his friends to try to track Lily.
“I’ll retire, too,” Ada told her father and Marianne, then climbed the stairs to her rooms. She too was undone with stress and worry.
“Please come talk to me, Marianne,” Killian said to her.
She followed him to his study, expecting he’d wish to hear about her discussion with Ada as well as her views of Lily’s disappearance.
Rarely did she come into Killian’s office. It was a large, quiet masculine room, lined with mahogany bookshelves, a huge globe and reading table in the middle of the room and Killian’s massive desk in the center.
She sank into the large wing chair in front of his desk. Her head back against the cool leather, she sighed.
“You don’t think Julian hurt her, do you? Physically, I mean.”
Blinking in shock at his question, she shook her head. “Absolutely not. He’s not the type.”
“Where could she be?”
“I know her well. And I’d say, she’s not far. But gone somewhere to think. And wherever that is, she’s safe.”
He surveyed the bookshelves as if secrets hid within. “Lily was almost ruined for her escapade with Julian. That he married her saved her from scandal, but now we’ve come to whatever it is she’s doing by running from him. Ada has made a mess of her own debut.”
“And my affair with Andre has not added any luster to the Hanniford family reputation. For that, I’m sorry Uncle.”
“In truth, my dear, these past weeks, I’ve heard nothing of you living with him up on the Butte. I think he warned his friends not to breathe a word.”
“That would be so like him.” Warmth spread through her at the very thought of him. “He never intimated to me that he did.”
Killian slumped in his chair. “This is all my fault.”
Never had she heard any such dour sentiments from the infamous blockade runner and robber baron, Black Irish Hanniford.
“Don’t take all the blame, Uncle. That would be unfair. We each make our own decisions. We profit or we fail by them. Hopefully, we learn from them.”
He met her gaze. “My example has not been sterling.”
“Ruthless, irrepressible, driven, yes, you are all of that.”
He grimaced and looked away.
“It’s true, you worked against the law. As a boy. As a ship’s captain. Even, perhaps, as a business man.”
Hearing her assessment, he seemed unmoved as he looked upon middle space before him.
“But as a man, you were a loyal husband and are a loving father and a fine parent to all your children and to me. If you’re demanding, that’s your nature. If often you are not diplomatic,” she said and sent him a consoling smile, “that too is part of your character. It’s what makes your children honor you.”
“But not obey me.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Sometimes, people must stumble to learn how to walk upright.”
He folded his hands in his lap and studied her. “You have always walked upright, my dear.”
“A compliment to hear you say it. Thank you. But my upright stance has put me in a trance. I’ve been so safe. So secure that I haven’t learned how to work for what I want and take it.”
“What are you telling me, Marianne?” He looked beaten.
“I’m not returning here day after tomorrow.”
He nodded once. “I’m not surprised. I’ve seen how you care for him. I should have accepted it.”
Her uncle assumed she’d stay in Montmartre. Yet Andre hadn’t asked her to remain and she had made him promise not to ask her to.
What had she done? In her effort to be bold, had she barricaded herself behind an impenetrable wall?
Killian grabbed a breath. “I apologize for my behavior last night. You’re a grown woman and I should never have treated you as any less than that.”
She waved it off. “I forgive you.”
“Do you?” he asked sadly.
She sat forward, urgency to be gone from here nipping at her. “You’ll forgive me. As you have Lily. As you will Ada. Even Pierce if and when he defies you, and he will.”
Killian snorted. “A fine family this is.”
“It is. And you have made it so.” She got to her feet. The need to move quickly, decide her own future driving her from the haven of her family to the heaven she’d created with a man she loved. “I’m leaving. I’m sure you’ll help Julian find Lily. I’ll want to know your progress.”
He stood behind his desk. “I’ll send a messenger over to Remy’s house if and when I know anything.”
“Thank you.” What could she say that would not alarm Killian? I may not be there. If Andre doesn’t want me, I could be anywhere. Anywhere.
“I want you to know that if you choose to live with him, I won’t object. I will accept it as if it were a marriage.”
“Thank you, Uncle. That’s good of you.“
“To prove it, I’m instructing my solicitor tomorrow to deposit into your ban
k account the sum total of money I’ve saved for your dowry. I would have given it to you upon your marriage. It’s yours.”
“Uncle Killian, thank you. You are gracious.”
“You deserve it. I should have given it to you years ago. You need it. A woman needs her own money. More than the pin money I’ve given you. And if you ever were to part from Andre, you’d be glad to have it. Use it or let it grow interest. Up to you. Totally up to you. But I’ll deposit it there for you tomorrow. A line of credit from the Eutaw Savings Bank in Baltimore to Rothschild’s here.”
The sum freed her. Gave her independence, heart and hope. “I’m very grateful.”
“Use it in health and happiness. The amount makes you an American princess worthy of your wealthy prince.”
“Oh, don’t be funny.”
“I’m not. He’s shockingly rich, my dear. But with your own savings—yes, I know you have them—and this, you are a prize for him.”
She ran to him and kissed his cheek.
As Foster summoned the Hanniford coachman to the front door to take her back to Montmartre, she stood in the foyer and bid goodbye to what she had been here. Safe. Secure. Loved. Protected.
What she had been for too many years was cocooned. Dependent. Passive.
But no more. As she descended the front steps and climbed up into the carriage, she asked herself how she would change to embrace a future she valued for all the right reasons.
The Hanniford coachman helped her down from the brougham, doffed his cap and waited until Nanette answered the door to let her inside.
Across the street stood the crested Remy town coach, two matched grays stomping in wait. For whom?
Had Andre’s mother come to visit? Had the coachman been sent up from the Remy Palais on the Rue de Rivoli with news of Andre’s mother’s health?
Picking up her skirts, she rapped on the bright blue door.
It was past ten o’clock, the windows in the house were dark. The gas turned low. Nanette let her in and she breathed in relief.
In the far corner of the foyer, stood a small leather traveling case. A man’s.
Had a visitor arrived?
Panic raced along her spine.
“Where is Monsieur?” she asked the maid. Perhaps Andre might have gone to the square or to visit one of his friends.
Daring Widow: Those Notorious Americans, Book 2 Page 23
