But it had found them.
The note hadn’t been in the book the day before. It had to have been put inside last night. The book was in the public room with them; Adèle had brought it. But the book hadn’t been across the room. It had sat right by them. This man who was threatening Henri’s family had been near enough to touch Céleste or Adèle, near enough to snatch either one of them away.
Aldric hadn’t had any idea. How could he possibly keep them all safe if he was so inept at knowing when they were in danger?
At some point during his pondering, Céleste and Adèle had switched roles. The little girl was telling a story. Céleste gave every indication of listening, but the quickest of glances in her direction revealed she was watchinghim.
Aldric shifted the reins into one hand and, with the other, reached over and took hers. He squeezed it, hoping to offer comfort, a little reassurance, even something of an apology. She was under threat, running, attempting to protect Adèle, and she had every right to expect more of him than he was managing.
She held fast to his hand, likely intending to do so for only a brief moment, but he was reluctant to let go. He’d reached out to offer her comfort but was finding it himself. Among the Gents, he often felt rather alone. His friends never did anything to cause those feelings. He knew perfectly well that they all cared for one another like family and thought of him that way. They were the brothers Stanley had promised they would be.
Being part of his family had never been good for anyone.
Aldric slipped his hand free of Céleste’s and retook the reins, hoping she would assume that was the only reason he’d let go. She was drawing him in, whether she realized it or not, and he needed to be careful.
Adèle and Céleste took turns telling stories, singing little songs, and talking about flowers as they continued down the road. No one else came into view. No carriages followed them. No one joined this larger road from the smaller ones they occasionally passed.
Yet the threat was real and had been present at the inn the night before. The note writer most likely knew when they’d left and which direction they’dgone. So what ought they to do now? They could push on and travel as far as possible that day, hoping to find someplace to stop when they and the horse simply couldn’t go any farther. But that was a monumental risk. If they were required to stop on the side of the road, far from any options for help or assistance, they would be entirely vulnerable. But being at an inn the night before hadn’t kept them entirely safe either.
They traveled on for a few more hours before he spotted L’Auberge du Chêne Vert, the inn that had been recommended to them the day before. It wasn’t yet dusk, and they could travel on for a time without the darkness being much of a difficulty, getting them closer to Montbergerie. But this was a reputable inn and quite possibly thelastreputable inn for some distance. There seemed to be no good options.
“Ought we to stop or continue on?” It was the first thing he’d said to Céleste in more than an hour. There was so much to think about, and she was working so hard to keep Adèle occupied. Conversation had been low on the list of priorities.
“I think we should stop,” she said. “We could press on, but I think we’d do better to know where and what we are pressing on toward.”
Wise. “I sometimes wonder how I managed to strategize at all without you to consult with.”
“Are you being sarcastic?” she asked.
He looked quickly at her. “Heavens, no. Did that sound sarcastic?”
“No.” Her brow knit. “I’m entirely unaccustomed to compliments. Apparently, I am not overly skilled at recognizing sincere ones.”
If ever a man needed a punch in the nose, Jean-François did.
Upon stopping at the inn, they undertook the ritual they had so quickly become familiar with. They spilled out of the cart, carrying the various bags, the violin, the basket, and keeping hold of Adèle’s hand. Aldric arranged for a room, grateful one was available.
Céleste and Adèle stayed in that room, the door locked, while Aldric took the horse and cart to the stables. He managed the task swiftly and even found a discarded tricorn hat behind the building that would help further disguise him. By the time he returned, locking the door behind him once more, Céleste had laid out the blanket with a few toys for Adèle, and the little girl was happily stretched out, playing with her carved animals.
Aldric joined Céleste in the far corner, a bit away from Adèle.
“You have a new hat,” she said.
“It’s too battered to be new, but it’s new to me. And it’ll disguise me a bit, which might help keep our pursuer at bay.”
She took his hand and held his gaze. There was a fierceness mingled with pleading in her eyes. And when she spoke, she did so in English. “I don’t think we ought to go to Montbergerie.”
He adjusted his hand enough to thread their fingers. “I have been having the same thought.” It was the first time he had acknowledged it though. “The note identified my family, and the writer of it might very well know my family’s ownership of that estate. He would think to look for us there.”
Her breaths were a bit strained. “We dare not try any of the Fortier holdings. And though I had thought of the possibility of going to Nicolette’s family home, the letter writer might also know of that connection.” She looked worn to a thread. “Where, then, can we possibly go?”
“I suspect”—he hesitated a moment, realizing the enormity of what he was about to suggest—“our best option is to go to England.”
She shook her head. “With Henri still in France, I have nowhere to go in England.”
“I am going to choose not to take offense at that, Céleste Fortier, because I suspect your oldest brother and your late father left you as unfamiliar with basic benevolence as you are with genuine admiration.”
She looked immediately crestfallen. “I hadn’t meant to imply you were unkind or selfish.”
