M. D’Aubert had a dueling pistol trained on Henri. “Hands out where we can see them, Fortier. You’ll not be pulling a weapon on us.”
Her beloved brother complied, watching Pierre with angry eyes. “I’ve come to make the trade you demanded: my life for my sister’s.”
Pierre pulled out a pistol of his own.
“No, Henri!” Céleste pleaded. “I’ll not let you die in my place.”
“Such a foolish family,” Pierre said. “We’re going to kill you both. You first, mademoiselle, so he has to watch.” He shoved her to her knees. “And we’re doing it here where Hartley’s son could have saved you, so he’ll know it is his fault that you’re both dead.”
Either Pierre or M. D’Aubert pushed her down. She barely caught herself with her hands.
“The Benicks and the Fortiers will both get what they deserve,” Pierre spat.
A gunshot rang out.
There was no pain. She moved a hand to her heart. Still beating. She wasn’t dead. She hadn’t been shot.
Céleste looked up. Aldric stood just outside the carriage, a pistol in each hand. One was smoking, the other was trained on M. D’Aubert, who still stood near her. Pierre was flat on the ground.
“Lower your weapon, D’Aubert,” he said.
His demand was immediately met.
A flurry of skirts momentarily blocked Céleste’s view of it all. Nicolette knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around Céleste.
“Do you have hold of her, Nicolette?” Henri’s voice echoed to them.
“Yes, and she’s whole,mon amour,” Nicolette said. “Whole and safe.”
“Aldric?” Céleste whispered.
“He’s here, Cél—”
“I’m not asking if he’s present.” Her voice broke. “I’m askingfor him.Please.” The emotion spilled over. “Please tell him not to leave me.”
It was his voice that answered. “I’m not leaving you, Céleste.” He took Nicolette’s place. Céleste threw her arms around him, holding to him desperately. “I’ll not ever leave you again.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
He’d almost lost Céleste.
And he suspected Pierre would have killed Henri too. If Henri and Nicolette hadn’t stopped at Eu Plate, asking for the location of a specific inn, Aldric wouldn’t have been with them and wouldn’t have pieced together the entirety of what was happening. They wouldn’t have arrived sufficiently armed.
He would have lost them both.
Céleste hadn’t let go of him in the two hours since he’d found her at the inn. And other than to tell Lord Grenton, who acted in the role of the local magistrate, what had occurred before their arrival, she hadn’t spoken.
Pierre and M. D’Aubert were being held, awaiting the circuit trials. The local surgeon had confirmed that, though Pierre had been shot, his life was not in danger. Both would be tried for their crimes.
Henri, Nicolette, Aldric, and Céleste were back in the carriage, making their way to Eu Plate. Their pace was slow on the dark road.
“We left Paris only two days after you did,” Nicolette told Céleste. “We hoped we could reach Norwood before you, or at least before the person who left us the letter telling us where you would be and that you would be killed if Henri didn’t offer himself as a substitute.”
Aldric had been told the details as they’d raced to the inn, praying they weren’t too late. He’d been so focused on reaching her that he’d not asked any of the myriad questions now swirling in his thoughts.
“Pierre and D’Aubert were being extorted by Jean-François. Why, then, was harmingHenritheir objective?”
“Jean-François threatened to reveal to the courts the evidence I have that Pierre was involved in illegal business ventures,” Henri said. “If Pierre could eliminate the evidence, or at least the one who knew where and what it was, then his difficulties with the law would come to a swift end.”
