He kissed her with hunger in his passion. When he was done and she hung in his embrace for one thrilling moment, he smiled at her with laughter in his eyes. “How come your new gowns for the midwinter balls?”
She had recently ordered three new gowns at Evan’s insistence. She had her own money, not only her continuing stipend from Scarlett’s bankers but also savings from that which Scarlett’s control agent had sent her in Boulogne. She had converted that sum to English pounds upon arrival in London and saved much when she canceled the lease on her townhouse in St. James’s. She had wanted to pay for the new frocks from her own accounts, but Evan had insisted she was his wife, she must keep her money, and she should pay her modiste bills from the family monthly income. “One gown came today. The other two are nearly ready. I go for a fitting tomorrow.”
“And you will pay the modiste for her services from our accounts?”
“Certainment.” She nodded with an arch of her brow. “Fromouraccounts, sir.”
He brought her close and skimmed his lips over hers. “Come to bed, then, and let me reward you for being an obedient wife.”
“Ah, sir.” She stepped backward and took him by the hand. She needed his arms around her—and his assurance that the world was loving and kind. “Come and I will reward you for being an agreeable husband.”
#
But hours later, as her husband slept beside her, snoring and sated, she lay flat on her back in bed, eyes trained on the canopy above her—and worried. The description of La Mèrehad seeped into her system like bad water.Was La Mère the lady who had approached her in Billingsgate? How many could resemble another so closely? How many could speak in dulcet French tones, and be so well attired with unblemished complexion and nut-brown hair?
The coincidence would be rare.
Very.
What could she do now but hunt that lady down?
Chapter Nineteen
Resolved now to draw out the lady who appeared in Billingsgate, Inès went out on errands every day. She took only Hawkins with her. Mary stayed at home. Inès was on a mission to compare the woman Giselle remembered with the woman in Billingsgate market.
Evan was against her going, but she assured him that Hawkins was a fine fellow and the kitchen staff needed her assistance.
Inès had told no one of the meeting. Hawkins and Mary knew, but had no reason to think it remarkable. The dressmaker,Lock & Co. Hatters,and Billingsgate were places she frequently visited. But the lady did not appear.
Inès knew what it was to be followed and to follow. She had spent years as a ghost following suspects in Paris for Amber. Then too she had often helped Gus. Inès knew to keep her distance, weave in and out of straight paths, and appear to be engaged with street vendors. She also knew that when one was followed, the body gave the best signs. The skin prickled; the hair rose at its roots. Quick steps followed by intense scrutiny to anything and everything from shop windows to hailing street musicians one knew were the order of the day.
But no woman like the one she sought appeared. She comforted herself that she was an expert. She knew the ins and outs of tracking another. She was safe. Safe.
Wasn’t she?
“Are you well?” Evan asked her one evening as they climbed into their big, broad bed.
“I don’t care for the Christmas season.” That was true. “I recall my family and I am sad.”I recall my brother who languishes in prison, and I cannot abandon him. But I cannot tell you that. Cannot find a way to get him free without committing a crime…or ruining our marriage and you.
On the tenth day of the new year, Inès went to a coppersmith in a safe part of town north of Smithfield with the family cook. Peggy was a kind and jolly woman who loved her work—and she was a good companion.
“I’ve wanted a few new pots and pans for years but did not want to tell the madam to spend so much money.”
“You deserve to work with good equipment. The results will be ones we can see and taste.”
The bells over the shop door tinkled.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Holland.” The patron had her back to Inès, but her carriage and stature put Inès on alert. So did her French accent.
Inès and Peggy continued their appraisal of the cooper’s wares and bade him adieu.
“Good morning.” The tall woman stepped into Peggy’s path and put out her hand to Inès.
Inès recognized her. How could she not?She wore the latest fashion. She had chestnut-brown hair and large jade eyes.
She cast Inès a quizzical look. “Bonjour. Comment allez-vous, Madame le Comtesse?”
Inès gazed at her outstretched hand, then walked around her.
