She needed to find something to ponder other than that.
“Thank you for sending Pierre on his way earlier today,” she said. “I cross paths with him more often than I would prefer, and he is often vexing.”
Aldric looked at her as they continued their meandering walk around the public rooms. “In what way?”
How did she explain it? “I cannot point to anything in his behavior that is wholly inappropriate or uncharitable, yet his interactions feel that way. I am always left feeling ill-used and belittled.” She shook her head. “But I cannot make specific objections because I cannot identify why that is my reaction.”
“Are you always with your brother or sister-in-law when you interact with M. Léandre?” Aldric asked.
“I am always with them when I interact with anyone.” It was more than she’d intended to reveal. Why did that keep happening? Hoping to stave off any inquiries her revelation might inspire, Céleste made a show of checkingbehind a door for someone hiding. “No one there. We’ll have to keep looking.”
She could tell with a glance that Aldric knew she was avoiding the topic she’d inadvertently introduced. Would he press the matter?
“Henri is worried.” Aldric looked behind a curtain hanging over one of the drawing room’s windows.
“About me?”
“We are all a little worried about you.” He didn’t make the declaration with any particular degree of tenderness, yet her heart responded as if he had.
She was being unforgivably foolish. The girlish tendre she’d nursed for him had long since run its course. Why was her heart behaving otherwise?
“But he is also concerned about Jean-François.”
That was unexpected. “Why is he worried about our brother?”
“Because your brother is the one receiving threatening letters.”
Ah. “He told you about the letters.”
“Henri did not indicate he wasn’t supposed to.” Aldric shot her a look of inquiry as they walked from the room.
“I have no objections. It is a mystery I cannot sort, and I’d very much like to be able to.”
“They are legitimate threats; all of us thought so immediately. But there is not enough information to identify the writer or the exact threat.”
Céleste nodded. “The exact reason I am seeking out help.”
“Nicolette says there is someone she can ask who might be able to learn a little more. Lucas and Julia have endeared themselves to enough in Paris Society that we are hopeful they can do a bit of digging. Lucas, especially.”
“Why him especially?”
“Because he gives such an impression of whimsicality that most people never suspect that he is exceptionally clever and bold. People talk more openly with those they consider dismissively innocuous.”
There was a lot of truth to that. “Everyone is going to a great deal of trouble to help Jean-François. I wish I could say he would appreciate it if he knew.”
“None of us are doing this for him.”
She wished, for just a moment, that they were making this effort for her. But she knew better. “I wonder if Henri realizes just how many people would do anything in the world for him.”
Their steps took them past the open door of the small sitting room in the exact moment Julia giggled from inside. Aldric stopped their forward motion. He gave Céleste a dry look.
“I’m beginning to understand why you don’t like this game as much as you once did,” Céleste said.
“It has been rendered rather pointless. Those seeking do not overly want to find those who are hiding, and those who are hiding don’t particularly wish to be found.”
“Go away,” Lucas’s voice said from within the room. “Your grumbling is putting a damper on my efforts.”
Aldric shook his head. “I despise this game.”
