“I worry about how my mother will take the news.” She could not trust him with her fear, or her heart. “Since mybeau-papa’s death, she has not been strong.”
“As I told you, we will inform her together. She’ll have no need to worry about you or anyone else.”
Mayhap having a male Wivenly around would help, yet, other than his eyes, he did not look at all like her papa, and he certainly did not act like Papa. “It is my fervent wish that it be so.”
“Andrew”—Wivenly removed the beef from his face—“take a look at my eye, will you? We need to go see my aunt before some well-meaning neighbor says something.”
Rising, Andrew took the few steps to Wivenly and studied his face. “It will be black and blue for a few days. Can you see out of it?”
“It hurts.” Will gently prodded the area around his eye. “But my vision is fine.”
His valet appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, took the meat, and vanished just as quickly. A cooling breeze wafted through the doors. Will made ready to stand when she did, but Eugénie was frozen in the chair.
Her stomach tightened again. How could she add to her mother’s worries? It seemed so selfish. “We should plan what to say.” Even to Eugénie that sounded weak. “There must be a way to put the incident in a better light.”
“Better light?”Wivenly uttered as if he couldn’t believe what she’d said. “We tell your mother exactly what occurred.” He softened his tone. “Bad news doesn’t get better with time.”
Her spine bowed as she shrunk back into the chair. “I think—”
“Eugénie!”
Mon Dieu!They’d waited too long. “Here, Maman.”
She appeared at the door followed by the Whitecliffs. “What is this I’ve been told about a man trying to take you, and why did I have to hear it from our neighbors?”
Wivenly unfolded his long frame in one fluid motion. “We were just about to come to you.”
Eugénie took a gulp of her wine and waited.
Her mother stepped forward then covered her mouth with her hand as a gasp escaped. “Will, your eye.”
“It will be fine.”
Cicely poured wine for her parents and Eugénie’s mother.
Wivenly signaled to Eugénie to join him on the chaise, and Andrew brought over two chairs. Once they were settled, she explained how the events unfolded.
At the end of the story, Maman’s frown deepened. “You said he was being paid a great deal for you?”
“Yes. I immediately thought of slavers.”
“Then why not take Cicely as well?” Mr. Whitecliff asked.
A low growl emanated from Andrew, and Cicely grinned.
“That,” Wivenly said thoughtfully, “is a very good question.” He glanced at Eugénie. “Perhaps it was not slavers. Who would want to abduct you?”
She shook her head and shrugged. “No one.”
At least not anyone she would tell him about.
“Your uncle.”
All their gazes swiveled toward her mother.
“What reason,” Wivenly asked, drawing his brows together, “would either my father or any of the uncles have to kidnap Eugénie?”
Maman took a sip of wine, then fiddled with the glass. “Not your family.” She turned to Eugénie. “Your father’s brother, Vicomte Villaret de Joyeuse.”
