“You remember me, madame,” the woman said in English.
Inès kept walking toward the door.
“You ignore me, madame. How rude.” The woman glanced at Peggy. “Is your lady often so rude?”
Peggy, following her lady’s lead, sniffed and made for the shop door.
Inès opened it and motioned to Peggy to precede her. To the shopkeeper, she said, “We will return tomorrow for our order.”
“Quelle damage, madame!” The woman hurried up to Inès and pushed something into her coat pocket.
Inès plunged her hand into her pocket and withdrew it, intending to give it back.
The woman grabbed her hand and looked upon her with fire in her eyes as she shoved the note down. Then, with a toss of her head, she left the shop.
#
Inès hurried home, frantic that the woman had approached her and been so bold as to pass her a note. Peggy sat rigid in their carriage, and wisely asked no questions. Wild to get to her bedroom and deal with her outrage in privacy, Inès refused to yield her pelisse to Davis and ran like a lunatic up the staircase.
“Ma’am?” Mary bobbed at her as soon as she opened her dressing room door. She had been sorting the day’s washing.
“You may leave me, Mary.”
“Are ye sure, ma’am?” The maid lingered, examining her. “A cool cloth for your brow?”
“No, merci, Mary.”
“Tea? You do not look well, ma’am.”
“Tea, oui. And brandy.”
The girl gazed at her oddly. Inès did not usually drink in the middle of the day. “I will get them.”
Inès waited until she heard the girl close the door to the suite.
Then, from her coat pocket, she fished out the envelope. She tossed it to her dressing table and glared at it as if it were poison.
Poison.
Inès threw back her head and gritted her teeth. Logic told her that this woman was the one who had ordered the abduction of Giselle. That she fit Giselle’s description to perfection. That she had no reason to appear so coincidentally in the same spot Inès shopped—not unless she were following her.
And what reason could she have for that unless she were a French agent put here in England by Vaillancourt?
Inès cursed roundly and backed away from the note as if it had tentacles and the power to grab her and…
She unbuttoned her coat and let it drop to the floor. Her gown of good wool turned to a boiling shroud. She tore at the neckline and pulled the bodice wide.
Open the note.
Open it.
You will not know if the woman comes from Vaillancourt until you open it.
She swallowed down her fear.You have encountered worse than she. Open it.She crossed her arms. You can survive anything she does.
Open it.
She strode forward. Ripped the wax seal.A red lion, no less. What hubris, eh?
