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Silence.
Slowly, she turned. Across the empty room, the draperies rustled in the breeze from the open doors.
—
Madame Fouchet’s lair was cooler tonight, Ramsey thought. He stood in her bedroom waiting for her to deign to join him. The footman had shown him in over half an hour ago, and he’d paced impatiently ever since. He knew this was her way of illustrating, clearly and for his benefit, that she held the power in their relationship. It galled him. He needed to end this now. Tonight.
“How was Lord Winterbourne’s ball?” Madame Fouchet purred from the doorway. She wore a thin dressing gown that concealed little. He made a point of keeping his gaze on her face.
“I don’t have time for this,” he snapped, barely keeping his anger in check. “What do you want?”
She smiled and sauntered into the room. She wanted him to watch her move, watch the way her hips swayed, but he couldn’t be less interested.
“Yes, I’m certain you’re terribly busy and important,Lord Sedgwick.”
He clenched his fists and managed to rein in his retort. She smiled at him, strolled to the chaise longue, and arranged herself on it. Immediately, a gray cat jumped up and rubbed its face against her hand. “Do you still have the necklace?”
“Of course I have it.”
“Are you certain? I hear your butler had an interesting visitor tonight.”
Ramsey’s pulse quickened. “What are you talking about?”
She waved her hand dismissively, but she’d managed to make him uneasy. Who had been at the house? Someone looking for the necklace?
“No matter.” She stroked the cat. “If you still have it, I’ll take it.”
“And then you’ll give me the documents. All of them?”
“No.”
He was one instant away from murder. He heard his blood thrumming in his ears, his temper close to snapping.
“But if you do one morepetitething for me”—she lifted her thumb and forefinger and held them slightly apart—“I will give you all of the documents free and clear. You will never have to see me again.” She winked at him and allowed her gown to fall off her shoulder, exposing her breast. “Unless you want to.”
“What is it?” he said between clenched teeth.
“Come closer. I want to whisper it.”
He wanted to argue, but it would only extend his time in her presence. Impatiently, he crossed to her, stood above the chaise longue. She crooked a finger and he squatted. Leaning close so that her bare breast brushed his coat, she whispered, “You have heard of the Scarlet Pimpernel?”
Ramsey took a moment to comprehend her words. “The Scarlet…?They seek him here, they seek him there?”
“Not the poem, the man smuggling the nobles out of France.”
“Of course. Everyone’s heard of him. It makes for a good drawing room fodder.”
She leaned back and gave him a hard look. “I want his name.”
“It’s just a story—“
“No. He is real. I want you to determine his identity and give it to me. I need irrefutable proof.”
Ramsey stared into her yellow cat’s eyes. “Why?”
She smiled. “Let us just say I have my reasons.”
“And if I discover the identity of this Scarlet Pimpernel, then you will give me what I want?”
