The Price of Pleasure

by Connie Mason

  “Reed, I cannot!” Fleur declared.

  “You most certainly can. We’ll spread the word that you and Helen are old friends, and that she invited you to live with her until you decide where to relocate. I intend to protect you, Fleur, and having you nearby is the only way I can do it.”

  “What will your sister-in-law think? I hardly suppose she’ll welcome strangers in her home.”

  “Helen and Violet live at the mansion because I allow it. I can assure you they won’t object.”

  Porter nodded his approval. “It’s settled then. I’ll have your invitations sent to Park Avenue. Keep in touch, Lady Fontaine. I have high hopes that you can learn something to help our investigation.”

  They took their leave. Reed handed Fleur into the carriage, spoke a moment to the coachman and climbed in beside her.

  “You know I can’t live in your home, Reed. Whatever made you suggest such a thing?”

  “It’s the sensible thing to do. The story about you and Helen being childhood friends will fly. And my moving into the mansion is perfectly reasonable. Everyone will think well of me for sheltering two émigrés in my home.”

  Fleur heaved an exasperated sigh. “Do you always get your way?”

  “Always, when it comes to something I want.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my mansion on Park Avenue. The sooner we inform Helen and Violet of the imminent arrival of my special guests, the better.”

  The carriage pulled up in front of a spacious mansion barely visible behind high walls. Fleur began to fidget as Reed handed her down from the carriage. Before turmoil had erupted in France, she had lived in palatial comfort at the ancestral Fontaine chateau, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. This pretentious home was a far cry from Lisette’s modest cottage. Reed must be enormously rich.

  Reed opened the gate and ushered her inside. The three-story edifice loomed huge and imposing before her. They ascended the steps, passed between two enormous columns and arrived at the carved double doors flanked by glass panels. The door opened before Reed lifted the brass knocker.

  A silver-haired butler wearing formal black livery bowed as Reed ushered Fleur inside. Fleur gazed with awe at the elegant entry hall that rose three stories high, its centerpiece a wide spiral staircase winding upward.

  “Is my sister-in-law in, Hughes?” Reed asked.

  “The ladies are in the drawing room, my lord. Shall I announce you?”

  “Don’t bother, Hughes. I’ll announce myself.” Grasping Fleur’s elbow, he took three steps, then turned once again to the butler. “By the way, Hughes, I’ll be moving into the mansion and bringing most of my staff with me. Please ask the housekeeper to have the master suite and two bedchambers prepared for two female house guests.”

  Though Hughes’s expression remained unchanged, his blue eyes revealed a lively curiosity. “May I be the first to welcome you home?”

  “Thank you, Hughes.”

  With his hand now resting in the middle of Fleur’s back, Reed guided her into the drawing room, where two women were taking tea. She recognized them as Lady Helen and her sister, whom she’d met at Madame Henrietta’s.

  “Good day, ladies,” Reed greeted them.

  “Reed!” Violet cried, rising. “How splendid to see you again.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, Reed,” Helen said with several degrees less excitement than her sister. “I’m eager to discuss my financial situation.”

  “I believe you both know Lady Fontaine,” Reed replied after acknowledging both ladies.

  “We’ve met,” Helen said coolly. “Why did you bring her here? Our discussion should be conducted in private.”

  “Really, Reed,” Violet chided, “what were you thinking? This is a family affair; Lady Fleur has no business intruding.”

  “Perhaps I should leave,” Fleur said, thoroughly embarrassed.

  “You’re staying,” Reed replied, sending Violet a disparaging look. “Would you please pour tea for us, Helen?” He seated Fleur on a sofa and sank down beside her.

  Helen hesitated, then did as Reed asked. Fleur accepted a cup along with a cold look, and sipped her tea gratefully. She had a feeling this meeting was not going to go well.

  “I have something to impart to both of you,” Reed began, setting his empty cup on the tea cart. “Fleur and her companion will be moving into the mansion tomorrow.”

  Helen’s cup rattled in her saucer. “What? Are you mad?”

  “Not at all,” Reed said calmly. “Furthermore, I plan to move from my bachelor quarters to the mansion and to bring my staff with me.”

  “I won’t allow her to move in here!” Helen protested.

  “You won’t allow it?” Reed said with deadly calm. “Might I remind you that this is my home, and that you and your sister are living here at my sufferance and expense?”

  “I can understand why you would want to move into the mansion,” Violet said, “but moving your mistress here is out of the question. Think of our reputation.”

  Wringing her hands, Fleur said, “Please, Reed, I told you this wouldn’t work.”

  Reed’s expression brooked no argument. “It will work if I say it will.” He turned a scorching look on Helen and her sister. “Fleur is not—I repeat, not—my mistress. She has nowhere to go and might be in danger. I am keeping her close for a purpose.”

  “Indeed,” Violet snorted. “I’m well aware of that purpose.”

  “That’s enough, Violet! I won’t countenance insults to Fleur’s character.”

  “What are you involved in now, Reed?” Helen asked. “I thought you were finished with all that secretive business. I don’t know what happened to you when you disappeared, but you’ve changed.”

  “What happened is none of your concern. I understand you need extra funds to supplement your portion. I will be happy to oblige if you accept Fleur and her companion without complaint. And that means being kind to them.”

  Helen’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “How will you explain her presence in our home? I simply cannot tell my friends that she is here because you wish her to live with us. Our reputation is at stake.” She sent Fleur a withering glance. “How do we know she is whom she claims to be? For all we know she could be a whore from the streets of Paris.”

  Fleur drew back as if struck. “How dare you! My late husband was Count Pierre Fontaine. His family is among the oldest and most prestigious in France. I come from good English stock. My father was a baron.”

  “So you say,” Violet huffed.

  “One more word out of either of you and I will insist that you remove yourselves from my home. The dowager house is being prepared for Helen’s return as we speak, and Violet can return to her father’s protection.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Helen gasped.

  “Indeed I would. Now, if we’re agreed, here is the story you will tell your friends. Fleur and Helen are childhood friends. They attended finishing school together before Fleur’s marriage to a French count. She recently escaped the turmoil in France and is at loose ends. Since her husband and family are dead, you invited her to move into the mansion until she can make other arrangements. It’s simple, really, and not at all far-fetched.”

  Violet greeted his words with a sneer. “Will you and Lady Fleur be sharing a bedchamber?”

  “Absolutely not!” Fleur asserted indignantly. “This wasn’t my idea. I was against moving here from the beginning. Reed thinks it’s necessary, even though I don’t agree.”

  “It is necessary,” Reed growled. “Fleur saved my life. She’s the reason I am standing before you. I owe her whatever protection I can offer. Do you understand? I’ll hear no more mean-spirited remarks about Fleur and her companion. As for you, Helen, I’ll provide you with an extra two hundred pounds a month while Fleur is living with us, even though my brother was quite generous with you in his will. I suggest that you spend less money on gowns and fripperies and limit your losses at the gambling tables.

  �
��And you, Violet, I checked your circumstances and found you are in not in need of funds. Your allowance from your father is generous to a fault.”

  “Indeed,” Violet purred, batting her eyes at Reed. “I’ll bring a generous dowry with me when I wed, just as Helen did when she wed your brother.”

  Fleur was not fooled by Violet’s subtle hint. Violet wanted Reed and would do anything to tempt him, even flaunting her fortune before him.

  Reed rose. “Now that Fleur’s living arrangements are settled, we’ll be off. Fleur, Lisette and I will arrive tomorrow after breakfast. My household will follow in a few days.”

  “We already have a full staff,” Helen protested.

  “We’ll make room,” Reed assured her. “It’s not as though I have a large staff. Besides, a house this big can use two cooks. As for the housekeeper, I believe Mrs. Court has been employed here beyond her usefulness. I will offer her a generous retirement and see her settled wherever she wishes.”

  Helen sputtered a protest until Reed held up his hand. “No more. Everything is settled to my satisfaction. Come, Fleur, it’s time to leave.”

  The moment the front door closed behind them, Fleur rounded on Reed. “How dare you force those women to accept me? Moving to an inn will suit me and Lisette just fine.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Reed said as they approached the carriage.

  Suddenly he froze. A familiar sound alerted him, a sound he had heard often enough in the past and hoped never to hear again. He pulled Fleur to the ground and fell on top of her as an explosion ripped through the air. A bullet whizzed past his head and lodged in the carriage door. He felt a momentary pain in his right arm, then numbness.

  Frightened by the sound, the carriage horses reared and took off down the street with the coachman running after them.

  Panting, Reed lay atop Fleur until he was certain the danger was past. “Are you all right?” he asked. He sat up and pulled Fleur across his lap.

  Fleur lifted her eyes to Reed. Her bloody cheek and dazed expression told him that she was not all right. And the way she was holding her arms close to her side was not a good sign. Though he saw no blood to indicate the bullet had struck or even grazed her, it was obvious she had been hurt when he shoved her to the ground and landed on top of her.

  “What happened?” Fleur asked.

  “Someone took a shot at us.”

  “Who would do such a thing? Why would anyone want to hurt us?”

  Reed’s lips thinned. “That’s what I’d like to know.” He helped her to her feet. “Now do you understand why you need protection?”

  Fleur brushed the dirt off her skirt. “How do you know the bullet was meant for me?”

  That stopped Reed in his tracks. Did someone want him dead? Had his betrayer followed him to England? That didn’t make sense. He could think of no reason anyone would want to kill him. He was no longer involved in covert activities. His spying days were over.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I say there, are you two all right?”

  Reed glanced down the street and saw Gallard Duvall hurrying toward them.

  “What happened here?” Duvall asked when he noted Fleur’s dusty clothing and bloody cheek.

  “Fleur tripped and fell,” Reed lied, sending a warning glance at Fleur when she opened her mouth to explain. “Gallard, please meet Countess Fleur Fontaine. She’s a childhood friend of Helen’s and will be living at the mansion for the present. Fleur, Gallard Duvall is an émigré and distant relative.”

  Duvall made his bow. “Is there anything I can do to help, my lady?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “What are you doing here, Duvall?” Reed asked.

  “I’m on my way to visit Lady Helen and her sister. They have been kind enough to receive me. I usually take tea with them once or twice a week.”

  “Then we won’t keep you,” Reed said as he spied a hackney plodding down the street. He stepped to the curb and hailed it. “Please excuse us,” he said as he gave his destination to the driver, handed Fleur into the cab and hopped in beside her.

  Once inside, Reed produced a pristine white handkerchief and dabbed at the blood oozing from the scratches on Fleur’s cheek. “Does it hurt?”

  “I’m fine, Reed, don’t fuss.”

  “What about your arm? I noticed you favoring it.”

  “I think I bruised it when I fell.”

  “Mrs. Peabody will take care of it when we reach home.”

  “Why did you lie to Mr. Duvall?”

  “At this point, I don’t trust anyone.”

  “But he’s a relative of yours.”

  “A very distant one. I don’t know enough about him or his background to confide in him.”

  “Have you ever met any of the Duvalls?”

  He shrugged. “No, they never came to England before. I hope John Coachman managed to catch the horses before they got too far.”

  The hackney rolled to a stop. The driver opened the door and pulled the steps down. Reed paid him and escorted Fleur to the entrance. A footman opened the door before they reached it.

  “Please summon Mrs. Peabody immediately, Gordon. Ask her to bring warm water and clean cloths,” Reed ordered the startled footman. “And send Updike to me. We’ll be in my study.”

  “Really, Reed, I told you I’m fine.”

  Once inside the study, Reed settled Fleur into a chair. “You don’t need to make a fuss over a few scratches,” Fleur persisted. “Lisette can . . . ”

  “Ma petite, what happened?” Lisette cried, bursting into the study. “I was with Mrs. Peabody when Gordon came to fetch her. She’ll be here directly. How did you hurt yourself?”

  “She tripped over the hem of her skirt and fell,” Reed said. “She bruised her cheek and arm but is otherwise intact.”

  Lisette sent Reed a skeptical look. “I’ve never known Fleur to be clumsy. Oh, look at your new gown! The hem is ripped and so is the sleeve.”

  “Never mind the gown, Lisette. I’m sure it can be restored to its previous glory.”

  “Gordon told me Lady Fontaine was injured,” Mrs. Peabody said from the doorway.

  “Come in, Mrs. Peabody. Lady Fontaine suffered a scrape in a fall.”

  Mrs. Peabody clucked her tongue sympathetically as she cleaned the scratches on Fleur’s cheek.

  “That should do it,” the housekeeper said as she stepped away. “Can I be of any further . . .” The words died in her throat when she noticed the jagged tear in Reed’s coat sleeve and the blood seeping through it. “My lord, you’re hurt! Take off your coat so I can see.”

  Reed stared down at his sleeve, surprised to see blood staining it. He’d been so worried about Fleur, he had forgotten his own pain. Now he remembered it. Though he knew the bullet hadn’t lodged in his flesh, it must have cut a shallow groove in his arm. It stung like the very devil.

  “It’s nothing, Mrs. Peabody.”

  “It’s something if it drew blood,” Fleur contradicted. “Let Mrs. Peabody look at it.”

  “Fleur, I don’t . . .” About that time Updike burst through the door.

  “Gordon said you wished to see me, my lord.”

  Reed heaved a sigh of relief. “Updike, you’re just in time. Mrs. Peabody, why don’t you and Lisette take Lady Fleur to her room and treat any hidden bruises she might have. I noticed her holding her right arm.”

  “Reed, no!” Fleur protested. “I want to see if you’re . . . ”

  “Do as I say, Fleur,” Reed said in a voice that brooked no argument.

  “What happened?” Updike asked once the door had closed behind the women.

  “Help me off with my coat,” Reed said. “Someone took a shot at me and Fleur. The bullet must have grazed me. Fleur injured her cheek when I shoved her to the ground. Thank God my reflexes are still good.”

  Updike eased Reed’s coat off. “Did you see who did it?”

  “No, though he must have been close. I was too concerned with
keeping Fleur safe to worry about anything else. The explosion frightened the horses, which added to the confusion. The last I saw of the carriage, it was careening down the street with the coachman racing after it.”

  “Does someone wish you ill, my lord?”

  “If I’m the target, I can handle it. But if it’s Fleur, the would-be assassin had best beware.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Fleur’s arm was bruised but not badly injured. Lisette, Mrs. Peabody and Peg wanted to put her to bed, but she fought them and won. It was true her cheek stung fiercely but the pain was nothing she couldn’t handle. Besides, she was desperate to check on Reed. Though he insisted the bullet had barely scratched him, she wanted to see for herself. To that end, she asked Peg to help her change her torn gown so she could find Reed.

  “You had best do as she says,” Lisette counseled Peg in halting English. “When Fleur makes up her mind, nothing will change it.”

  Fleur stood with waning patience while Peg fetched her blue-and-gold-striped walking dress and hooked her into it. Once the last hook was done up, Fleur hurried out the door and down the stairs with Lisette trailing after her. She entered the study without knocking and found it empty.

  “May I help you, my lady?” Updike said from the doorway.

  Fleur spun on her heel. “You can tell me where I can find his lordship.”

  “He’s left the house, my lady.”

  “He left? What about his wound? Did he require the services of a surgeon?”

  “No, indeed,” Updike replied. “ ’Twas but a scratch. He changed his shirt and coat and left immediately.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “I cannot say, my lady. His lordship didn’t confide in me.”

  Fleur seriously doubted that. Updike seemed more than a simple valet. He was a butler, a confidant and apparently indispensable to Reed.

  “Did he say when he would return?”