“The voice we heard at the inn was not the same one from the ball. But the man at the innwaslooking for us. That means we are being pursued by more than one person. I don’t know whether or not they are both victims of Jean-François’s extortion or this new threatener is someone from near Fleur-de-la-Forêt who has been mistreated by my brother or is angry for an entirely different reason. But both men are intent on doing us harm, including you. We can’t identify either man. We don’t know how they know where we are or how accurately they could guess where we might be going. I don’t know how to guard against a threat that can’t be identified.”
She took a quick breath. Aldric didn’t jump in immediately to dismiss or attempt to fix what was worrying her. He simply listened, just as he’d said he would.
So she continued. “And I’m worried about going to England. I do think it’s where we need to go while France is a source of such danger. But while you have a home there, I don’t. And I don’t have any means of supporting myself. I can try to obtain employment, but I don’t know how difficult or easy that would prove to be, and I do not know if my struggle to see in dim light will prove a significant hindrance. Taking a position as a governess orlady’s companion or French tutor would mean not being able to be with any of the Gents or their ladies, who are the closest thing to family I have in England. That I haveanywhere, truly.” She leaned against the back of the wagon bench, still sitting up in the wagon bed. She tucked her knees up close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I know none of you would allow me to live in poverty any more than you allowed Henri to all these years, but he had at least some income to live on, which made charity more palatable.”
“It wasn’t charity.”
“Kindness doesn’t have to be pity to feel like it.” She’d seen the weight of that on Henri. It was one of the reasons she’d been willing to strike the bargain she had. “Even if I could find a means of supporting myself or learn not to be torn down by the need to rely so heavily on everyone else, at some point Jean-François and Marguerite will come to claim Adèle and bring her back here, even if the threat isn’t gone. Should, by some miracle, the threat we are running from now disappear, she would still be returning to a household where she is overlooked and underappreciated. Having watched her dance and play and listen as we’ve read her stories, even smile and giggle, I can no longer ignore how unhappy she was before. I can’t bear the thought of her going back to that, but what recourse do I have? I’m her aunt, but I’m not her parent. I can’t actually keep her away from her mother and father.”
She noticed Aldric had set a hand on Adèle as she slept. He appeared to have done so out of pure instinct. He loved Adèle, just as Céleste did.
“When they take her back to France, I need to go with her so she will have someone looking out for her and caring what happens to her. I don’t know if Jean-François would actually allow it. And if he did, he wouldn’t allow it without insisting that the price I pay for that favor is even steeper than the one I paid for Henri’s freedom. Jean-François is becoming more and more like my father, and he—” She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. “My father became increasingly and intentionally cruel toward the end. Life with him wasn’t merely miserable; it was torturous. He inflicted pain with more than just words.” The admission emerged in a broken whisper. She emptied her lungs, then struggled to fill them again. “Another thing I’ve not told anyone else.”
“Not even Henri?” Aldric asked softly.
“He would have felt guilty, as if it were his fault because he wasn’t there to attempt to intervene. He carries enough burdens as it is.”
“I think you bear too many yourself.”
Céleste’s mind grasped onto the topic she’d been trying to avoid. Her next breath shuddered through her. “What if Henri doesn’t escape the violence in Paris? What if something happens to him and Nicolette and they can’t get out of France? We’d never see them again.”
Aldric reached over and took her hand. As he moved, Adèle did too, clearly asleep but searching for a more comfortable position. The little girl curled into him, resting against his leg. He set his other arm on her, comforting both Céleste and Adèle at once. Family was supposed to feel this way. It was supposed to be safety and reassurance and tenderness in support. She’d only ever had that from Henri, and only on the rare occasion when he was actually home.
“You’ve told me two things tonight that you haven’t told anyone else,” Aldric said. “So I’ll do the same. I stood in the churchyard where Stanley is buried the day after his funeral and made a promise to him, to his memory, to everything he meant to me. I promised him that I would look after the Gents, that I would do everything I possibly could to keep them safe, to help them be happy, to make certain none of them were alone, like he was when he died.”
Hearing the emotion in Aldric’s voice pulled tears to the surface once more. She kept them at bay with the same determination she had called on for years, since long before her imprisonment at Jean-François’s house, long before the house party, back to the horrifying moments toward the end of her father’s life.
“I failed Stanley in the days before he left for war,” Aldric said. “I will not fall short like that again. We will get you and Adèle safely to England, then I will come back and get Henri and Nicolette. I won’t leave them there. I promised Stanley, and I don’t break my promises.”
It wasn’t reassurance that followed that declaration but absolute panic. She turned and looked at him, dimly illuminated by the still-lit lantern. “You can’t. Paris is at war with itself. Whispers of violence have reached the countryside. Fleur-de-la-Forêt has most likely been reduced to ashes. You are referenced in the threats we are receiving. If you come back to France, you will be in danger.”
“Céleste—”
“I can’t bear to lose you too, Aldric. Please.” Only after the confession spilled from her did she realize how revealing it truly was. She’d known for years that she loved him, and for days now that her feelings hadn’t changed. Now he would know her feelings as well.
Exhaustion, grief, worry, and embarrassment all spun together inside her. She pulled her hand from his and wrapped her arms around her legs once more, shrinking into herself.
Aldric sat in a quiet that was somehow both contemplative and peaceful. After a long moment, he said, “We have plenty enough to be worrying about just now without borrowing more worries yet to come. I won’t give any further thought nor speak any more of the possibility of returning to France. And you can put from your mind for now any concerns about how things will play out once you reach England. We can face those questions when they arise.”
“And until then?” she asked quietly.
“Until then, we’ll continue being the remarkably good team we’ve proven to be. We’ll protect Adèle and each other. We’ll stay a step ahead of the people who are looking for us. And we’ll get ourselves to safety.”
“That is plenty enough to be facing.”
“Yes, it is. And in the midst of all that, I’m going to ask one more thing of you.”
She pulled her blanket more firmly around herself, breathing a little more steadily. “What?”
“When you feel like crying, don’t fight it so much. I think it would be good for you.”
“May I ask something of you?”
“Of course.”Of course.He said it as if everyone in her life cared what she thought and wanted to hear what she had to say.
“When you get home to Norwood Manor, if you haven’t already, will you open your mother’s parcel? I think that would be good for you.”
She braced herself for him to respond with frustration or offense. But he didn’t.
