AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As he halted before the busy café his every instinct urged him to return to his cottage and the beautiful woman awaiting him.
Once again he was cold and tired and in desperate need of a bit of comfort. Especially the sort of comfort that Raine was willing to provide.
But he had spoken honestly to Carlos. It had been too long since he had sought out information of what was occurring beyond Paris. He had too many people who depended upon him to entirely ignore what was happening in the world beyond.
On the point of dismounting, Philippe was halted as a grimy urchin dashed down the street, clearly attempting to capture his attention.
“Monsieur.”
Philippe waited until the boy skidded to a stop beside his horse. “Oui?”
“I have a message for you.”
With a flicker of surprise, Philippe reached down to take the crumpled note. “Merci.”
The boy lingered, and with a faint smile, Philippe reached into his jacket to pull out a handful of coins. He dropped them into the messenger’s outstretched hand, then waited until the lad disappeared into the shifting crowd before reading the note.
Philippe’s heart gave a sharp leap at the short demand to meet with Belfleur at his shop. It could mean only one thing. Seurat had been found.
Without hesitation he urged his horse into motion and swiftly made his way through the heavy traffic. He was wise enough to keep an eye out for the numerous thugs and cutthroats that plagued the city, but his mind was churning with the fierce satisfaction that soon he would be returning to England and Jean-Pierre would be released from his filthy cell. Just as important, he would be done with this unpleasant task and he could return to his estates.
An unwitting smile touched his lips at the thought of watching Raine as she caught her first sight of Madeira. He knew in his heart she would be captivated by the rugged beauty of his home. How could she not be? There was nothing so magnificent as the craggy cliffs and small coves filled with fishing boats. Or the rolling hills that were covered by his precious vineyards. Even his house was splendid. A sprawling villa that was situated to offer a breathtaking view of the scenery.
And of course, there would be plenty of nearby villagers who would be grateful for her incessant need to be of service to others. She would be pleased to discover that his tenants were a warm and generous people who would readily show her the affection she had lacked in her life until now.
Philippe’s thoughts were still wrapped about the image of Raine filling his home with her unique spirit when he realized he had reached his destination.
With a shake of his head to clear his thoughts, Philippe dismounted and tossed the reins to a nearby pickpocket who lurked near the door. The lad would know better than to try to take off with the stallion. Belfleur could be a harsh taskmaster.
Philippe entered the shop, frowning as he found the front shop empty. “Belfleur?”
The rotund Frenchman appeared from the back door, waving his plump hand for Philippe to follow him. “Come in, Philippe. We will speak in the back.”
With a shrug, Philippe allowed himself to be led to an office that held a small desk and dozens of cabinets that were convenient for hiding ill-gotten goods. Crossing to the desk, Belfleur poured them both a measure of brandy and pressed a glass into Philippe’s hand. Then, with oddly jerky motions, he turned to stir the dying embers of the fire.
Philippe drained the welcome heat of the brandy and set aside the glass. He was impatient to be done with the business.
“Where is the bastard?” he demanded. “Do you have him trapped?”
Belfleur slowly straightened and turned to regard Philippe with a guarded expression. “Non, this has nothing to do with Seurat.”
Philippe clenched his fists as disappointment flared through him. What the devil was Belfleur thinking? He had to know that his note would send Philippe rushing to his establishment with the conclusion that his enemy was within his grasp.
“Your message said it was urgent that you speak with me,” he said, his cold tone warning that he was not pleased.
Belfleur grimaced, but he offered no apology. “I have discovered information that I believe you would wish to know.”
Philippe took a step forward, not at all in the mood to play games. His entire evening had been thrown into disarray by this ridiculous diversion.
“Hell and damnation, Belfleur. If you have something to tell me, then get on with it. I have matters to attend to.”
Still, the man hesitated, sipping at his brandy before heaving a sigh and squaring his shoulders. Rather like the proverbial messenger bearing bad tidings.
“I have just come from dinner with an old friend who told me of a peculiar encounter he had with a customer today,” he at last confessed.
Philippe stiffened. “Peculiar in what manner?”
“A foreign gentleman entered his establishment with the wish to sell a near fortune in jewels.”
