“That he did that for me was wholly unexpected, though I am touched by his kindness.” Her foolish heart skipped at the idea.
Henri nodded. “Marguerite’s indifference earlier convinced him an intervention was necessary.”
“Pierre’s obnoxiousness seemed to convince him as well.”
Henri’s brow drew. “He said Pierre was causing trouble. I can’t like that he isn’t making himself scarce now that he has Nicolette’s fortune. What more could he possibly want?”
“Pierre is a pest,” Céleste said. “Pests seldom skitter away when they are unwanted.”
“That is horrifically true.” He smiled a little, but the expression slipped into a frown of concentration. “Is Paris as perilous as the whispers in England make it sound?”
“Perilousisn’t quite the right word.” How could she explain? “Paris reminds me of a lady at a ball who has been engaged for a dance she does not wish to participate in. She smiles and tries to appear as though all is right in her world, but the look on her face doesn’t match the look in her eyes. The peace and serenity on the surface of Paris doesn’t run deep.”
“Trouble is brewing.”
She nodded. “And no one seems to know what that trouble will look like when it eventually takes form.”
Henri squeezed her hand. “Do you feel unsafe, Céleste?”
“Uncertain, but not truly unsafe.”
His gaze shifted to Adèle. “Is she asleep?”
Céleste checked as well. The girl was most definitely sleeping. “She is.”
“I’ll speak in English just in case,” Henri said, and did precisely that. “What are those letters Marguerite asked Jean-François about? They seemed to be of some significance.”
Céleste debated for just a moment, unsure how much she ought to tell him. He had escaped Jean-François. Telling Henri what she knew would entangle him anew. But she didn’t think she could solve this puzzle on her own.
“Jean-François has been receiving ominous letters. I found them earlier today.” She pointed to the drawer of her bedside table. “The letters are tucked inside the book in that drawer.”
“You are the reason they can’t find the letters?” Henri sounded both impressed and amused. He read through the letters quickly. “These are threats.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “They’re too vague to counter but quite specifically mention the family, which means Jean-François is not the only one in danger. Suppose the writer of these letters decides to take his anger out on Adèle?”
Henri’s eyes darted to the little girl, then back to Céleste. “Or on you.”
“I don’t dare even hint at the topic with Jean-François. You know how easily he prickles up.”
Henri tucked the letters into his pocket. “I will learn what I can.” He stood. “You need to rest,abeille.” He leaned over and gave her a hug. “I have full faith that Nicolette and Julia will convince your prison guards to allow you a few days with us.”
“And if they can’t?” Céleste asked.
“We’ll send Aldric. The General has been known to outmaneuver the cleverest of people, which is not a group our brother belongs to.”
Long after he left, Céleste sat in the quiet of her room, trying to keep her thoughts off far too many difficult topics. Upheaval in France. The unidentified letter writer. Her plan to get out of Paris. Adèle. Henri.
Aldric Benick.
Heavens, he was confusing. And intriguing.
And handsome.
And he would break her heart if she wasn’t careful.
Chapter Nine
Despite Dr. Mercier’s instructions, Jean-Françoisand Marguerite each sent word to Céleste’s room shortly after Henri’s departure, informing her that she would be required to participate in that night’s social engagement.
