Mr. Lambert looked between the two sisters, a veneer of polite attention still on his face at odds with his obvious baleful intent. “Miss Bridwell, how did you find us? Ah, let me guess. Mr. Gaetano has been busy. He has a reputation for gossip, so I am sure this little adventure must have spread all over Spa by now.”
Ignoring Mr. Lambert, Amy went to help Marianne wrap her paints and brushes. He made a show of handing a brush covered in brown paint to Amy, but Marianne whipped it away, splattering paint on Amy’s gown.
“I find it amusing, I must say,” he said, facing her. “Did you think to come to Marianne’s rescue? How fortunate she is to have a sister like you. But I hardly think a mere woman can make an adequate protector.”
“Miss Bridwell is more than adequate,” a deep-timbred voice replied. “But she is not Miss Marianne’s only protector.”
Amy turned her head in astonishment at the voice, and her eyes flew up to the silhouette of a man on horseback, the sun behind him obscuring his details. It wasJames! How in the world had he known how much she needed him?
Chapter 20
The surge of energy that had spurred James on his quest to find Marianne now seemed to pool at his feet. He had arrived at exactly the right moment, though he had feared he would be much too late. Only the greatest piece of luck had led Morry and Miss Bainesworth to walk on the quiet path that provided a glimpse of Lambert leading Marianne in the direction of Watroz. The knowledge that Marianne had been imposed upon—or worse—without him there to help would have been intolerable to bear.
Amy turned to Mr. Lambert and raised one eyebrow. “As Mr. Fletcher has said, Miss Marianne has more than enough people who are concerned with her interests, so you will kindly leave her now.”
Lambert’s annoyance showed, and he turned from Amy to James. “Fletcher.” He bowed, his smile becoming fixed. “How nice to see that you have time on your hands, despite your busy profession.”
“Indeed,” James answered courteously, an edge to his voice. He dismounted and brought his horse directly between Lambert and the Bridwell ladies. At the movement, Lambert seemed to resign himself.
“I bid you farewell, Miss Marianne.” He bowed. “Miss Bridwell. Fletcher.”
Without another word, he strode in the direction opposite the path through the woods where James had come from. James was glad of it. It would keep him off the main road and leave them to travel to the Hôtel de Lorraine unhindered.
They collected the rest of Marianne’s painting supplies, saying little. James suspected she was suffering from embarrassment and strove for normalcy as they began to walk along the road.
“Let me take you this way. We will go past the Tonnelet, where I’ve had my baths built. It is a little longer, but we will avoid the marsh, which can be dangerous if you step in a hole.”
“Thank you,” Amy said, once again conscious of her soaked feet.
James led the horse on his right and walked beside Amy. He was still recovering from the relief of having reached the Bridwell sisters in time to perform them a service. He did not know how far Lambert would have pushed himself on Marianne and could not convince himself he would have been restrained in his treatment of her. Gently bred women were prevailed upon all the time in situations of anonymity, but this was a small city where everyone knew each other. It was astonishing, really, that Lambert would try.
“How did you come to be here?” Amy asked.
Marianne walked at her sister’s side, her manner subdued. As a child, she had always had an open, trusting nature, and he suspected this event would take time to recover from.
“It was Miss Bainesworth who alerted me to your whereabouts. She and Mr. Moreau were walking near the Promenade, and they saw the direction that Mr. Lambert was leading Miss Marianne. Morry knows I am a friend to your family and thought it best I be made aware of the situation. Miss Bainesworth offered to come and fetch me.”
“It was most timely,” Amy said with a glance at Marianne.
“It was,” he agreed.
They walked in silence, and he felt the weight of Marianne’s distress. He wished he had a carriage so he could bring her home quickly and shield her from having to face anyone. After walking for some time with only platitudes for conversation, they passed the source, where his bathing structure stood out in its newness.
“Le Tonnelet,” Amy read, her gaze taking in everything from the outdoor pool to the stone entrance and wood structure. “You said you have installed the baths here?”
“I have. They will be ready to open tomorrow.” He eyed Marianne, concerned by her silence and pale face. “Do you need to rest, Miss Marianne? I apologize that I have no sidesaddle or carriage that can carry you.”
“I am well,” she said, offering him a bleak smile.
They continued down the road toward the town, and Amy asked him questions about the source and its properties, which he was happy to answer. It made an otherwise awkward journey more comfortable, and he was able to tell her how the baths worked and what kinds of ailments they cured. From there, the conversation—carried on without any contribution from Marianne—drifted to which ailments the waters could cure by drinking and what they could not. Finally, they reached the Hôtel de Lorraine. Hannah was exiting as they reached its entrance.
“You have returned,” she exclaimed in relief, her eyes on Marianne. With a glance at the group of people walking along the road behind them, she lowered her voice. “Papa was quite worried about you. Amy, you disappeared as well. I was coming in search of you, for I could not bear to wait and do nothing.”
“I will leave you, then,” James said, but Amy touched his arm to stop him. She pulled her hand away as quickly.
“You will need to bring your horse to the stables, but I hope you will return and pay us a visit. You were there to assist us, and I believe my father would wish to thank you.” She hesitated, adding,“You might also try to speak to him about the baths. Perhaps he will listen to you. I found it quite convincing.”
James smiled. “I will certainly come if you think your father wishes it, and I will speak to him of the baths if he is inclined to listen.” He dipped his head in farewell, then turned his mare to lead her to the stables. His heart had a raw, dull ache to it. He might be locked into an unhappy engagement of his own making, but he could not help but be pleased that Amy believed in him.
