As he’d walked home from Wedmore House earlier, he’d reflected on his stay in London before his abduction. He had spent a good deal of time being entertained by actresses, both from the stage and in their dressing rooms.
Claudine hadn’t been one of his offstage entertainers. She’d been a quiet sort who mostly kept to her dressing room, and the gents who frequented the theatre had known to leave her be. Claudine Bellerose had belonged to a duke.
Xavier kept his distance as well in the beginning. She seemed to have made a comfortable life for herself, and he hadn’t wanted to cause any trouble. He had appreciated her talent, however, and became as captivated during her performances as everyone else in the audience.
The Duke of Stanhurst had been careful never to leave evidence of his mistreatment of his mistress in places where others could see, but Xavier began to notice the dwindling light in the actress’s beautiful blue eyes. Perhaps he’d recognized her defeated spirits, because he’d experienced his own moments of hopelessness over the years when his father’s hatred of him had reared its head. Xavier had been unable to ignore her suffering.
One evening, he’d approached Claudine in the Grand Saloon at the Theatre Royal to offer his congratulations on her splendid performance. The duke stood guard not far away, but he was otherwise occupied. Stanhurst was known for his jealousy and rarely allowed Claudine to venture from his side, but his duchess had accompanied him that evening. Xavier had raised Claudine’s delicate hand as if to place a courteous kiss on her glove and instead whispered his offer of help in the native language they shared.
Several days later, she had approached him backstage and asked if he could help her reach Vienna where a fellow actress she knew would offer her lodging. He and Claudine were to sail as far as France together, then she planned to travel on to Vienna, and he was to sail home to New Orleans.
The morning after he’d been taken, she would have been waiting with her trunks for him to collect her, nervous and eager about what her life would be like in Vienna. In his heart, Xavier hoped the actress had escaped her lover without his help. Nevertheless, if she had stayed in London, he would like to speak with her. He needed someone who might be able to help him make sense of the last two years of his life.
The hack rolled to a stop outside the Theatre Royal by way of Russell Street, ending his musings on the past. He paid the driver and approached the stage door used by the players and crew. The main doors would not open to theatre patrons for a couple of hours, but the actors, actresses, and stage crew had much to do before a performance.
A stage door keeper with biceps the size of hams and a puffy red scar extending from the corner of his mouth to his temple glanced up as Xavier approached.
“Good evening,” Xavier said and passed him two shillings.
The man accepted the offering with a satisfied grin before stepping aside to allow Xavier access to the theatre. Stage door keepers were hired to chase away undesirables and encouraged to look in the other direction when gentlemen arrived at the door.
Xavier stopped inside the shadowy bowels of the theatre to get his bearings. The stagnant air reeked of perspiration and mildew, just as he remembered. In the trap room beneath the stage, two stagehands were arguing over a misplaced feather prop and paid him no notice, so he headed for the stairs leading to the dressing rooms a floor above.
Laughter spilled down the dark stairwell and greeted him at the landing. In the corridor, a woman dressed in only her shift was flittering from room to room calling, “Who has the pot of lip rouge? I need it now.”
“Go away,” another woman called from one of the dressing rooms. “Wait your turn.”
“It’s not for me. Madame Parma is asking for it.”
The blond pixie disappeared for a few moments then shot back into the corridor with the lip rouge clutched in her hand. She eyed him curiously as she sped in his direction. He expected her to sweep past to complete her task, but she stopped in front of him.
“I remember you.” She drew out the last word and aimed a flirtatious smile at him. “If you haven’t come for anyone specific, I have a few moments to spare.”
He nodded toward the hand holding the lip rouge. “Isn’t Madame Parma expecting you?”
“She won’t keep me long. She likes her privacy,” she said with an exaggerated accent that he suspected was meant to sound mockingly sophisticated.
A few of the other actresses wandered into the corridor.
“I see,” he said. “Well, thank you for the offer, but I’ve come to inquire about Claudine Bellerose? Is she still an actress with the theatre?”
The diminutive girl lifted her turned up nose. “I have never heard of her, but I am sure she is a talentless, old hag.”
“Zoe, you know very well who Claudine is,” one of the older women grumbled. She spoke with a thick Austrian accent. “Stop being petty and take him to Madame Parma. She will know Claudine’s address, sir.”
Xavier thanked the woman then followed the blond below stairs to Madame Parma’s larger dressing room closer to the stage. Zoe took a deep breath, released it slowly, and knocked on the door. “Madame Parma, I’ve brought the lip rouge you requested.” Her words dripped with sweetness now.
“Enter,” an imperious voice said from the other side of the door.
Zoe raised her finger to her lips, signaling him to stay quiet. “Let me talk to her first,” she whispered. “She doesn’t like being interrupted before a performance.”
He gave a sharp nod. She slipped inside the room and closed the door. A muffled conversation ensued for several moments, and he was beginning to grow impatient with the wait when the door flew open.
Zoe smiled sweetly. “She will see you now.”
The door swung open fully, and he was met with the sight of Madame Parma perched on a gold velvet fainting couch. Her deep auburn hair was piled high on her head, and emerald earbobs swayed with her slightest movement. “You’ve interrupted my meditation, Mr. Vistoire.”
She remembered him.
“My apologies, Madame. It is a matter of importance. Otherwise, I would not have come.”
One pointed glare from the leading lady sent the pixie scrambling for the corridor. The door closed with a soft snick, and they were alone.
She reclined on the fainting couch, causing the white satin wrapper she wore to slide from her shoulder to reveal the plump swell of her bare breast. “Would you care to join me?”
“Merci, but I do not practice meditation.” Xavier knew the real meaning of her invitation, but his days of dallying with actresses were finished. “I will be brief, so you may return to your preparations for the evening. I am searching for Claudine Bellerose. The women above stairs were under the impression you might know of her whereabouts.”
Madame Parma pulled the wrapper tight around her and laid her head against the couch. “You cannot blame me for trying. My days at center stage are dwindling, and every actress is in the market for a benefactor. I’ve grown intolerant of hunger these last few years.”
Xavier smiled in appreciation of her flair for drama.
“I am afraid Claudine gave up the stage some time ago,” she said. “She has become a ladybird kept in a gilded cage.”
“Does that cage have an address?”
“It does, Mr. Vistoire. I will not share it with you, however.”
“And why is that, Madame Parma?”
All traces of congeniality faded, and the actress’s icy gaze narrowed on him. “Because you betrayed her. She was waiting for you, but you never arrived. When Stanhurst discovered her trunks, he knew she was lea—” Her voice cracked. She took a deep breath to compose herself. “She was leaving him, and he became furious. If you had seen what he’d done to her...”
A sour taste rose at the back of his throat. “Perhaps I can still help her. Please, tell me where she is.”
“What is to keep you from breaking your word again?”
He came to the side of the fainting couch to
appeal to the actress. “I didn’t leave without her. I was set upon the night before we were to sail, and Claudine might have information that would lead to the person responsible.”
“Claudine is not a criminal, sir, nor does she associate with them. I fail to see how she could be of any assistance.”
Xavier sighed. “I know she wasn’t involved, but perhaps she heard something. Maybe she questioned others about my disappearance. There is a chance she knows something without realizing its relevance. I would like to speak with her. Whether you believe me, I’m sincere in my wish to help her break free of Stanhurst. She doesn’t deserve to be mistreated. Please, tell me where to find her.”
Madame Parma shook her head. “If the duke catches her trying to leave again, he might kill her this time, and I cannot be responsible. She is my friend. If you want to save her, forget you ever knew her and keep your distance.”
Perhaps she was correct about his presence placing Claudine in more danger, but he couldn’t walk away without her at least knowing the truth. “Could you give her a message? Tell her I’m sorry. I didn’t abandon her willingly.”
“I can grant you that, Mr. Vistoire. I will make a point of calling on her soon and delivering your message.”
“Merci.” He started for the door.
“Do you love her? Is that the reason you refused my offer?”
He glanced back over his shoulder. “Claudine and I shared a friendship. She is a good woman who deserves a better life.”
“But you are not in love with her.”
“No.”
“Then perhaps you made your decision in haste.” Madame Parma slid the wrapper from her shoulders, baring herself to him. The satin puddled around her waist. “I rarely extend an invitation more than once, Mr. Vistoire.”
She was practiced at seduction and temptation. Most likely, she never needed to ask twice.
“There is someone else,” he admitted and stalked from the dressing room without hesitation. The only woman he wanted was Regina—his tenderhearted, strong, willful goddess.
It was dark when he exited the building, then everything went black when his hat was knocked to the ground and a sack was shoved over his head. Two men grabbed his biceps and hooked their arms around his thighs. He was airborne for a brief moment before he landed on a hard surface.
“Where is my bloody map?”
Merde. “You again.” Xavier pulled off the sack and glowered at Farrin from his position on the carriage floor. One of the blackguard’s men shoved his way inside and dropped on the bench beside his boss. The carriage lurched away from the curb.
“Was this necessary?” Xavier shook the sack in his fist.
Farrin smirked. “I thought you’d enjoy the theatrics.”
“You ruin my enjoyment of everything. What the devil do you want now?” He pushed off the floor and sat on the carriage bench opposite.
“You’ve been strolling through the park, attending balls, visiting the theatre. What you have not been doing is retrieving my map. You have four days, Mr. Vistoire.”
Xavier glowered at Farrin and the brute sitting next to him. “I am well aware the sand is slipping through the hour glass. I hope you don’t intend to interrupt my plans every day to remind me.”
“What exactly are your plans?
“And stop having me followed,” Xavier said, ignoring his inquiry. “One of the Darlington sisters is likely to notice your men lurking about and think he is with me. I could lose access to Wedmore House and the map.”
Farrin’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead. “You clever devil. You think you can seduce your way into the earl’s home. Which lady has her eye on you?”
“Who is responsible for my incarceration?”
Farrin’s eyes hardened. “Some questions are better never being explored. If you were seeking clues at the theatre, you were wasting your time. Count your blessings you are still alive and pray that you stay that way.”
“Likewise,” Xavier said through clenched teeth. “I need more time to search for the map. I was able to access Lord Wedmore’s chambers today, and I’ve been invited to borrow a book from his library any time I wish.”
Farrin’s expression remained impassive for several moments. Eventually, he gave a sharp nod. “You have a week from today, but no longer. If I don’t have the map by then, you are no longer any use to me and I will send in my own man.”
Xavier would have liked more time, but he’d been afforded room to breathe. “Splendid. Now have your driver stop and let me out. I’m expected for dinner.”
Farrin nodded toward his man who lunged across the carriage and grabbed Xavier around the neck, trying to choke him. Xavier landed a punch to the side of the brute’s head, but it didn’t slow him. He jerked Xavier from the bench and opened the carriage door.
“Wait,” Farrin called. He reached into Xavier’s jacket and withdrew his purse. “Now.”
His henchman shoved Xavier from the moving carriage. He rolled on impact with the cobbled street and scrambled to his feet as another carriage barreled toward him. He dove for the walkway and felt the rush of wind from the Berlin as it flew by without the driver even trying to slow his team.
Gradually, he picked himself up from the deserted walkway and looked down at the hole in the knee of his trousers. Blast and damn! The tailor had charged Xavier a fortune to attire him quickly so he could rejoin Society, and he would require a new wardrobe by the week’s end if he continued at this rate. And he’d lost his hat!
He dusted off his trousers and glanced at his surroundings, trying to determine where he was and how to make his way back to his sister’s home. Farrin had left him in a neighborhood with modest homes and no lights burning in the windows. He set off for home, limping for a bit until the initial pain of impact began to fade.
Xavier felt like he wandered the streets forever before he finally recognized a landmark. It took another half hour to make his way home without the money to hire a hack.
He was going to find that bloody map, and when he did, he would use it as leverage to learn who was responsible for stealing two years of his life. Then he would track down whoever had hired Farrin to retrieve the map and was placing his and Regina’s families in danger. In the end, he would see all of the men dead.
When he walked in the house, Serafine met him at the door. “Where have you been? You missed dinner, and I’ve sent Isaac to look for you.” Her face flushed and her eyes took on a feverish glow as she ran her gaze over him. “Would you look at yourself? Please tell me you are not gambling again.”
He sighed, knowing his appearance wasn’t helping to convince his sister that he had mended his ways. “I wasn’t at a gaming hell. I was at the theatre. Footpads attacked me as I was leaving Covent Garden and took my money.” He opened his jacket and pointed to his empty pocket. “I had to return on foot and I became lost for a while. I’m sorry I missed dinner.”
She bit her bottom lip and her green eyes misted. “I want to believe you. I want your change to be real.”
He captured his sister’s hands between his. “It is real, Sera. I am a different man. Even more than you want to believe in me, I want to be worthy of your faith.” He placed a kiss on her cheek. “Allow me to prove myself, please.”
She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Of course. I am sorry I assumed the worst. Perhaps I am the one who hasn’t changed.”
“Well, you’ve always been nearly perfect. I don’t believe it is necessary for you to change.”
His sister smiled and hugged him. “I am glad you are back.”
“Me too.”
Fifteen
It was the perfect day for a picnic, and Regina couldn’t imagine any two families getting on better than hers and Mr. Vistoire’s. One might think Aunt Beatrice and Serafine Tucker had been friends forever given the ease with which they had fallen into conversation with one another in the carriage. Regina’s aunt was not always the easiest person for others to tolerate with her propen
sity for blunt speech, but Mr. Vistoire’s sister seemed to value a direct approach, as she demonstrated the moment she and Regina were left alone.
Mr. Vistoire was escorting Aunt Beatrice and Evangeline on a stroll through Hyde Park, while Sophia had joined Simon and his father at the water’s edge to throw breadcrumbs to the geese.
“I’ve been watching Xavier with you today. I think you are good for him.”
Regina blinked in surprise.
Serafine regarded her with intense green eyes that seemed capable of delving into the most private places of Regina’s psyche, and she was uncertain she liked anyone nosing around there. She turned her attention toward the trio on the bank of the Serpentine.
“I’m not sure I take your meaning.”
Simon reached a chubby hand to take his father’s offering of a small chunk of bread, but it slipped through his fingers and landed on the grass. As Simon squatted to pick it up, a goose honked at him. The boy screamed and his father scooped him in his arms so he could watch the geese feeding from a safer vantage point.
“Xavier has never courted a lady,” Serafine said. “It is a testament to his regard for you.”
“I see.”
The fact he had never courted a lady at his age seemed to confirm he was a rogue just like she’d thought, but he wasn’t behaving like any of the scoundrels that had been bothering her this Season.
For one, in her moment of weakness when her curiosity had overruled common sense and she’d wanted him to kiss her in the garden, he hadn’t accepted her unspoken invitation. Instead, he had proclaimed a desire to court her and arrived on her doorstep with a gift the next day.
In addition, Mr. Vistoire was kind to her family, and he was especially agreeable when it came to Aunt Beatrice. At this very moment, he was allowing Auntie to parade him through the park as if he were a prized stallion. He seemed to take genuine pleasure in her aunt and sisters, and that made him more dangerous than any of the other men set on conquering her. The way to Regina’s heart would always be through her family, and she suspected Mr. Vistoire was privy to this information.
Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Uncle Charlie's Angels Book 1) Page 12
