Miss Lavigne's Little White Lie

by Samantha Grace

  Lisette’s eyes widened a brief moment, but she returned his sister’s enthusiastic greeting with kindness. “Merci. Your brothers have spoken highly of you. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  Mother smiled, her features softening for the first time since she had arrived. “It seems my youngest son has also arrived with a wife.” She reserved her loving expressions for Jake. He had always been her favored child, and she’d been orchestrating opportunities for Jake to win Amelia’s heart for over a year. “Now if only Benjamin will make a match, I shall know peace.”

  His mother stood, glided across the room to gather Lisette’s hands in hers, and placed kisses on her cheeks.

  “What a darling girl you are,” Mother cooed. “Jake and Amelia told me all about the changes you have wrought in my wayward son. Do come and join me on the settee.”

  A tic started at Daniel’s brow, and he placed his fingers against the spot to cease the annoying sensation. Would he ever win his mother’s approval? Not bloody likely. Why he should care now when he had flaunted his vices in front of her for years, he couldn’t say. Perhaps he didn’t wish to see the light of admiration in Lisette’s eyes fade when she looked at him.

  Serafine and Rafe arrived holding hands as the tea cart appeared, and Daniel facilitated the introductions. He could have kissed his family for their warm acceptance of Lisette’s kin. His wife beamed and turned a loving gaze on him. His worries about losing her admiration had been for naught.

  His mother sat and assumed the role of hostess, pouring tea for everyone and offering chocolate biscuits. “We have much planning to do today if I’m to throw the most glorious ball of the season to celebrate your nuptials. Of course, we haven’t much time until everyone returns to the country.” She handed a cup and saucer to Serafine then poured one for Lisette. “Jake and Amelia’s opportunity has passed, I’m afraid, although I am thrilled with the prospect of another grandchild.”

  Daniel made to sit, but one sharp look from his mother halted his descent to the chair.

  “We have much to discuss, Daniel. We must discuss a visit to Madame Chastain, and then there are the choices for flowers in addition to the menu. We cannot be disturbed with sighs of boredom from your side of the room.”

  In the past, his mother’s words would have offended him, but today they brought a smile to his face. “Very well, Mother. Please assist both ladies with setting up accounts with Madame Chastain and any other shopkeeper you see fit. I know they are in good hands.”

  He turned to Rafe. “I thought to make a return trip to the docks to finish some business. Would you like to accompany me?”

  The lad’s eyes lit. “Back to the ship?”

  “Indeed, and if any of the fleet is docked, perhaps we can tour the other ships.”

  “I need my sketchbook.”

  “Let’s retrieve it then.” He bowed to the feminine gathering in his drawing room. “Good day, ladies.”

  A few minutes later, he left the town house with a spring to his step. The females in his family would keep Lisette so busy, she likely wouldn’t even realize when he left for America or notice his return. He would speak with Jake and Lana later to request an invitation for Lisette and her family to join one of them in the country as soon as the season ended. His siblings would ensure Lisette was well cared for in his absence.

  Twenty-six

  Lisette’s head spun by evening. After setting a date for the ball, Daniel’s mother had insisted she and Serafine visit the modiste that very afternoon. Lisette had been exhausted from their voyage, but unwilling to disappoint Daniel’s mother. She had hated to see Lana excluded from the outing, but as the young woman had explained, a lady in her state couldn’t be gallivanting about Town. Then she had frowned and mumbled the words “blast it all,” endearing her to Lisette even more.

  Now in the comfort of her new chambers, Lisette removed her half boots and rubbed her sore toes. She wasn’t made for the life of a lady of leisure if her entire day consisted of nothing but shopping. Pulling the pins from her hat, she dropped them on the dressing table before tossing her hat on a nearby chair. She had just released her hair when Daniel entered.

  “Splendid. You’ve returned.” He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, kneading her tensed muscles. Each press of his strong fingers loosened the knots that had been forming all day. “How did you fare with Mother?”

  “Très bien. It is clear she will be an asset in navigating these next few weeks.” Lisette touched his hands to still their movements then met his gaze in the looking glass. “Thank you for today.”

  “Of course. You and Serafine may set up accounts wherever you like.”

  She turned on the bench to face him. “I meant for lying to your mother this morning, about the circumstances of our marriage.”

  Daniel lowered to a knee so they were eye level and slipped his hand under her hair to cradle her neck. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I overheard you telling your family you have fallen in love with me.”

  “Madly in love,” he clarified with a cheeky wink.

  Her body flushed with heated pleasure. “Oui. I thought perhaps you had exaggerated too much, but your mother and sister took you at your word.”

  Daniel’s fingers twined with the strands of hair at her nape and sent tremors along her spine. The spicy scent of his cologne infused her with longing as he leaned toward her. His mouth hovered a breath away from hers.

  “Was I lying?”

  Her throat clogged with emotion and tears pricked her eyes. Did she dare hope her husband loved her? “I’m grateful you didn’t mention Reynaud. I imagine your family’s opinion wouldn’t be as positive if they knew you took your vows to save me from my fiancé.”

  “Former fiancé.” His thumb stroked her jaw. “Lis, I would have protected you from him no matter what. I married you because I wanted you.”

  She swallowed against her disappointment. He desired her, which wasn’t the same as love. Yet, it was something. Weeks of travel and the near endless afternoon of shopping caught up to her. Lisette slumped forward, resting her head against his shoulder.

  His arms wrapped around her, and he placed a kiss on top of her hair. “I’m pleased you find Mother and Lana amiable. My family is like yours, loyal. I’ll have no worries with them looking after you while I’m gone.”

  Lisette’s insides convulsed and she drew back. “Gone? Where are you going?”

  “I’m a seaman, my dear. I can’t stay in London forever if you are to have new gowns and all the fine things ladies require.”

  “Then I don’t want any of those things. I wish to be with you.”

  His brows lowered as they always did when she displeased him. Before he could speak, she rushed on with her argument. “Rafe loves being onboard the Cecily and so do I. Life at sea—”

  “Is no place for a family.” Daniel pushed to his feet and gazed down on her. “Our journey was easy this time, but the dangers are too great. I won’t risk your safety or that of Rafe.”

  “If sailing is too dangerous, I don’t want you at sea either.” Lisette jumped up and captured his arms. The magnitude of strength under her fingertips stole her breath. He appeared invincible, but he was as vulnerable as anyone was. And living without him would tear her apart. “You could have died if not for me playing nursemaid. It’s clear you need me to take care of you as much as I benefit from your protection.”

  Daniel smiled in a placating manner that riled her temper. His hands slid behind her head and his fingers linked. “I never properly thanked you. I shall have to make up for my oversight.”

  The instant his lips touched hers, she thought to shove him away, to confront him on using his sexual prowess to disarm her. Instead, she softened in his embrace, her body siding with him rather than what she knew to be true. Daniel needed her as much as she needed him. And somehow, she had to convince him before he tried to abandon her in England.

  ***

>   Louis Reynaud found The Peregrine a damned disappointment. Nothing about the East End tavern reflected the supremacy of the real-life hunter, a formidable predator that attacked its prey from above, swooping down at an ungodly speed. The falcon had might and the element of surprise to his advantage. No warning of danger. No chance for his victim to escape before he sank his razor talons into his quarry’s soft body.

  Louis regarded the repulsive patrons of the dim establishment and sneered. No surprise attacks would come from these carnival curiosities. Their stench would set off the alarm long before they reached striking distance. Slumped over the wooden-slat tables, coal dust under their fingernails, they appeared to be wearing grotesque masks in the distorting flicker of the lanterns.

  “Yer quite the toff.” The serving wench’s husky voice invaded his musings.

  His gaze raked over her from scuffed boots to ratty hair. Another unworthy one.

  She flashed her decaying teeth, the tip of her tongue poking through the jagged hole. “Ye stick out like me man’s Thomas after months at sea. Bring ye an ale?”

  Louis directed his attention to the tavern entrance. “Go away.” When she didn’t move, he turned a glare on her. “Now, while you still have legs to carry you.” She scrambled back several steps and bumped into another table.

  He hadn’t raised his voice. There was no need. The woman sensed danger and reacted as any self-preserving creature. She fled.

  “Not as stupid as you appear,” he mumbled.

  A gust of wind plundered the tavern when the door opened, blowing the stench of unwashed bodies in his face.

  He scowled at the newcomer as he weaved through the tables. “What the devil took you so long?”

  His man hesitated in his step and eyed Louis as one would a rattlesnake, with caution and respect. The corners of Louis’s mouth inched upward. “Have a seat.”

  “The maid kept me waiting,” Wilson explained. “She couldn’t carry word to me until the household departed for the evening. There’s some kind of sawray they’re attending.”

  Louis blinked. “A sawray?”

  “Aye. A celebration on account of Miss Lavigne marryin’.”

  “Do you mean a soiree?”

  “Exactly.” Wilson snapped his fingers and pointed at Louis. “A sawray. Damned English. Why don’t they just call it a party and be done with it?”

  Reynaud’s teeth scraped together. “Soiree is a French word, you buffoon.”

  Wilson shrugged and signaled for the serving wench. “And this ain’t France, so my point stands.”

  “Quiet!” Louis didn’t wish to speak of his former fiancée or her foolish choice to marry Captain Hillary. In truth, he’d prefer to cut out his companion’s overused tongue than listen to his discourse on any topic. Yet, that would be a messy endeavor.

  Queasiness churned in his gut as he imagined the scene in too much detail. He gripped the edge of the table when he pitched to the side, but his fingers slipped from the oiled wood.

  Wilson bolted from his chair and caught him before he tumbled to the floor. “Mr. Reynaud, are you all right?”

  Louis’s head swam a moment before everything began to right itself. His sight homed in on Wilson’s meaty hands on his pristine coat. “Unhand me.” He jerked from his hold and glowered.

  His man released him and slunk back to his seat.

  Louis scrubbed a hand over his face. Hellfire. When would he shake this horrible illness that plagued him every time he thought about—? A shudder passed through him and he sucked in a deep breath to settle his stomach. He was better off thinking about Lisette.

  His former fiancée had been nothing if not transparent, just as one would expect of a guileless female. He had never had any trouble reading her every emotion when they were together. She’d been able to deceive him only because she had feigned illness the night she fled. He knew the true mastermind behind her escape. It was her devious cousin, Serafine Vistoire.

  In a world filled with born killers, Lisette would always be the victim, but not Mademoiselle Vistoire. A paragon of strength and willfulness, she had confronted Louis in the study the night of his engagement dinner. The bitch had stared into his eyes, hers full of fire and condemnation, and berated him for taking advantage of her cousin’s grief.

  Lisette would never have the courage to blackmail him, but Serafine Vistoire would. Too bad a woman finally worthy of him would die for her efforts.

  “Did the maid search her belongings?” Louis asked.

  “She didn’t find anything out of the ordinary.”

  “What did you learn of her brother, Xavier Vistoire’s whereabouts?”

  A bleak expression darkened Wilson’s countenance. “I asked around but no one’s seen him in months. His landlady said he left in the middle of the night without paying his rent.”

  Mademoiselle Vistoire would try to deliver the letters to her brother at his new location. The danger to Louis wouldn’t end until he had possession of his property again, and his blackmailers were dead. He would gleefully slit their throats as soon as the opportunity arose.

  “Egads.” His hand clutched his roiling stomach. He would just have to close his eyes. “Perhaps she keeps them on her person. What’s the location of the celebration?”

  ***

  Serafine stood on the outskirts of the dance floor, attempting to blend in with her surroundings. Never had she felt more conspicuous than now, dressed in lily-white, standing among the pale, cherub-faced innocents. She didn’t belong in the London ballrooms, and as sure as the sun would rise on the morrow, she had no business shopping for a husband.

  Not that she was in the market, but Daniel’s mother insisted there was still time left in the season to make a match. The tenacious Madame Hillary had dragged Serafine into this ridiculous charade while tuning out her protests.

  Serafine had never met anyone with more devotion to marrying off every unattached person of marriageable age within a fifty-mile radius. She couldn’t decide if the woman wished others happiness or desired company to share in her misery.

  She suspected the latter.

  Madame Hillary had an overwhelming aura of sadness about her Serafine understood all too well. Serafine believed herself skillful at hiding her feelings, but she too carried sorrow deep inside her heart. Perhaps this was the reason she had acquiesced to dressing up like a porcelain doll and smiling throughout the endless line of potential suitors Madame Hillary introduced her to this evening.

  Tired of flashing her teeth and her jaws aching, she found a chair half-hidden by a folding screen and two potted ferns and slipped into it. She just needed five minutes to herself. On the other side of the room, she caught a glimpse of Lisette in her scarlet gown gliding around the floor with her husband.

  Serafine smiled. Lisette was the family jewel and appeared as suited for the ballroom as the other ladies in attendance.

  Two young girls stepped in front of Serafine with their backs to her. She sat up straighter, intending to ask them to move so she might enjoy the view of the other dancers.

  “The newest Mrs. Hillary is fetching.” The taller of the girls, all angles and bony prominences, lifted her fan to speak quietly to her companion. “But did you see her American cousin? The elder Mrs. Hillary must be as batty as rumors suggest, sponsoring the likes of her.”

  Serafine’s request stuck in her throat; a small hiss of air passed between her lips.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea what Mrs. Hillary is thinking, Pru. What would any gentleman want with the American?”

  “A hefty acquisition, I imagine.” Pru’s sardonic chuckle grated on Serafine. “That’s what most desperate gentleman want.”

  Pru’s friend laughed. Round as she was tall, the lumps of flesh oozing over the top of her corset jiggled like the aspic served at dinner. “But her dowry would require tripling to gain any gentleman’s notice.”

  The noxious pair cackled, thinking their insults clever, but Serafine had heard worse said about her
in New Orleans. Malicious whispers had followed her and Isaac wherever they went.

  Pru flicked her fan as if the exertion of laughing couldn’t be borne. “She’s as common as they come, Maddie. One would swear she has been strolling in the sun without a hat for forty days and nights in preparation for this evening.”

  Serafine rolled her eyes, rose from her seat, and tapped the awkward girl on the shoulder. They both turned and gasped. Maddie at least had the decency to blush.

  Serafine smiled sweetly and unleashed a flurry of words she knew they wouldn’t understand just to illustrate who the common ones at this gathering really were.

  Pru huffed. “I beg your pardon?”

  The girls parted as Serafine pushed between them. She didn’t bother translating. They were not worth her time.

  “What did she say?” Maddie hissed.

  A deep chuckle halted Serafine’s retreat, and she looked over her shoulder to locate the source. A dark-haired prince—at least he appeared regal in her eyes—regarded her with the most striking blue gaze. Wry amusement twinkled in the depths of his eyes. “I believe the lady said only the dumbest cow would think the sun appears at night, but my French isn’t what it used to be.”

  “A cow?” Pru shrieked.

  That wasn’t exactly what Serafine had said, but she liked the gentleman’s translation.

  The statuesque woman on the gentleman’s arm lifted her champagne flute in salute. “Well spoken, mademoiselle. You are an excellent judge of character.”

  Pru and Maddie bumped into each other as they curtsied to the pair. “My lord, Miss Truax, we didn’t see you standing there.”

  Miss Truax’s frosty demeanor sent a shiver through Serafine. “Nor does his lordship wish to see either of you now.” She flicked an elegant finger, pointing as if ordering about canines. “Off with you, Misses Flaherty and Channing, or you will find your names omitted from every prestigious party list for the next two seasons.”

  Blood drained from their already pale faces. The girls clutched each other’s arms and fled to the side of the room where several chaperones appeared to be partaking of their own gossip, speaking behind raised palms, sometimes gasping over what must be a juicy tidbit of scandal.