Page 38 of The Count’s Charade

She looked up. “Are you an expert? What do you know of housekeeping?”

The hint of mischief dawned in his eye. “I know much, Grâce. An aide in this new France has not a servant.”

Grace left the stain and sat back, surprised. “None at all?”

Henri shrugged. “There was a concierge I paid sometimes to clean and cook, but I have done much for myself.” A sombre look replaced the mischief. “It is more safe, tu sais, that one has no servant. It is not a time of trust.”

A sliver of horror slipped between her ribs. “Did someone betray you to Loriot?”

He met her eyes. “Let us not talk of betrayal, ma chère. In my country, it has become — how do you say? — a way to live.”

Which gave Grace to understand, with a hollow at her chest, that Henri had been forced himself to use it. The interior darkness she had sensed in him became almost tangible. Not for the first time, she suspected there was that in his past which might be condemned by the authorities seeking to take him in charge. She ought to range herself with them. Instead, she felt relieved Henri was taking his future into his own hands. God forbid he should come to grief from her keeping him by her side!

Henri was sipping gingerly at the tea, a faint look of distaste in his face. Grace changed the subject. “Where will you go?”

“Northwards at first, for that Jean-Marc is searching to the west. Then I may make a way, by a route that goes round with no logic, to seek aid from some French who are here.”

“In London?”

Henri nodded. “Reuben gives me a little map that can help me until — how is it called? — Ilford, I think. From there I take a stagecoach to London.”

It was indeed a circuitous route. Grace wondered briefly at the identity of the French who would help him. Émigrés, perhaps? It was apparent Henri had been giving his escape a deal of thought. Questions crowded her mind, but she asked only those of a practical nature.

“Have you money, Henri?”

He nodded. “Enough for the stage. I exchange more francs for guineas when I arrive at London.”

“But no luggage. Did you leave France with nothing?”

“It was not convenient to take something like a portmanteau, enfin. One has to hide that one is departing from France. From my position in particular.”

“As an aide, you mean?”

“Exactement. And for that I knew Jean-Marc and Etienne looked to know if indeed I would go. I did not succeed to deceive them.”

“Evidently,” agreed Grace drily. But her heart was heavy.

There was no more to say. She sipped her tea in silence, trying not to look at him, afraid he would see the devouring need in her gaze.

Henri felt her inner disquiet, and a wholly unlooked-for irritation bubbled up. He set down the cup with a snap. “Faugh! This tea he is not to my taste!”

A startled expression leaped into her features and Henri found himself reaching out to clasp his fingers about her forearm. He used the wrong hand, producing a twinge at his shoulder. He ignored it.

“Grâce, are you a saint that you ask no question? You will make me say no reason? Sacré bleu, but it is not to believe!”

Almost her poise deserted her. She set down her cup and laid her fingers over his. “I know your reasons, Henri. And there is little point in my protesting. It will not stop you leaving. Indeed, I know I must not stop you, for your own safety.”

His hand turned, catching at her fingers and drawing them towards him. “I am in debt to you, Grâce, for my life. But you demand nothing of me. It is — it is not nature!”

Grace could not help smiling. “Would it be more natural for me to weep and wail, as I promise you I feel like doing? Shall I complain and curse, and tell you everyone will suppose you have deserted me after wrecking my reputation?”

Consternation entered his voice. “You think this?”

“It doesn’t matter, Henri. We agreed to pay no attention to gossip. People will forget it all very quickly — even if I do not.”

Henri’s grip tightened on her fingers. “Yes, you will forget, Grâce. It will be as a dream.”

She longed to deny it, to say it would be a dream she would cherish lifelong. But it would not do to let him go in concern about her. He must be free, in mind as well as body. Deliberately, she smiled at him.