Carlisle turned to his wife and grasped both her hands in his.
Giselle fixed her eyes on her husband. “I saw La Mère.”
Evan swung away to narrow his gaze on the dimly lit coals in the grate.
The mother.Inès recognized the name of the French female spy who had attacked Giselle last summer. Would the woman be so foolish as to dare appear at the theater?
“She’s here,” Evan murmured with amazement, then whirled to face them all. “We thought she fled our little band and had taken a packet to France.”
Giselle spoke up. “A feint, perhaps, on her part. But tonight she was in the audience. On the floor. Third row from the stage. Two in from the center. I saw her. I did.”
“Can you truly affirm it was she?” Evan came forward to put his hands on the back of Inès’s chair. “Was she not masked when you saw her last summer?”
“She was. But allow me to remind all of you that I have a good eye for line, color, and style.”
Inès rubbed her arms. Of course she did. How else to sketch, draw, and paint?
“I would know her anywhere. She was a perfect lady, tall, with expertly coiffed chestnut hair and the latest Parisian-style gown. She has a fine porcelain complexion—and large, hooded eyes like two stones of jade. One would never expect that she is a ruthless torturer.”
Inès froze. “She tortured you?”
“She authorized it.”
Evan cursed beneath his breath. “We have been searching for this woman for years.”
Years?Inès panicked.She is experienced, then. Knows England and London well. And she travels in Society, tonight to the theater. But how can she go out easily among others? That could not be. If it were so, Kane and Gus, Amber and Ramsey, Carlisle, Durham, and Evan would have met her.
Carlisle winced. “We doubted she would dare to appear in public.”
“Who was she with?” Evan came around to face his friend.
“Another lady. Older,” Carlisle said. “White hair. Many diamonds around her throat, but, I daresay, not dressed in the latest fashion. Still, I do not know her, nor do I recognize the one we call the Mother.”
“I do wish you did!” Evan rubbed his thigh that still pained him now and then. He would not forget the lady who had wounded him.
“What does she look like without her mask?” Inès asked Giselle.
“She has a strong profile, proportioned nose and lips and jaw. She laughs gaily.”
“Did she recognize you?” Evan asked Giselle as he stood behind Inès and put both hands to her shoulders.
“No. I doubt it. As soon as I saw her, I told Clive we had to go. We did. The house tapers were still dimmed. Act one was not finished.”
“If,” said Clive pointedly, “La Mèrehad recognized us, I would have left and called for my two bodyguards stationed outside to barge inside and take her away.”
“You have guards who follow you?” Inès sat in wonder, but then, she recalled a bit of discussion with Gus when first shearrived in London. Many of Scarlett’s agents here in Britain were assigned guards.
“Oui,” Giselle told her. “We do not know if I am still a prime target to them.”
“To return you to Paris?” Inès thought herself an idiot to ask such a silly question.
“Oui, and to Vaillancourt.”
Inès sat, stunned. Her thoughts drifted toward her husband. Aside from Hawkins, had Evan put guards on her comings and goings? If not, would he now?But he has reason to believe I may be wanted by French agents.
She shivered in disbelief. Her next thought was how she herself was wanted by Vaillancourt for reasons about which her husband knew nothing.
Evan was measured in his response. “I am glad you did not call for your men, Clive. And that you left. La Mère does not tend to go anywhere without Faucon close at hand.”
