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“I have no need of your money. Ask.”
“Did you come over from France with the delegation this Season?”
“Oui.” The man nodded his head. “Obviously, I am not part of the delegation. We happened to be on the same ship. I live in England now and have for many years.”
Interesting.
“Did you attend atonevent a few weeks ago where you delivered a note to a young lady?”
Jacques’ features flickered for a mere moment.
“Non, I do not go to such events.”
“Liar!” Josie’s fury was palpable as she jumped forward. Cursing inwardly, Elijah grabbed her arm again, but it was too late. The cap tumbled from her head, revealing her golden curls, and the Frenchman’s jaw dropped open, too stunned to pretend he did not recognize her. “I remember you!”
“Bloody hell, Josie!” If he had wanted to shake her before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now.
“Can you not keep your wife under control?” Mitchell shouted at Elijah.
“Get out of here,” Elijah snarled, glaring at him. “I will call you in if I need you.” Mitchell opened his mouth to protest, but Elijah shouted. “Out!”
He could not deal with Josie, Mitchell, and Jacques at the same time, and the only one he could remove from the situation was Mitchell. Utterly furious, Mitchell bowed jerkily and stomped out of the room, muttering imprecations under his breath and slamming the door behind him.
Jacques said something in a stream of French, too fast for Elijah’s brain to catch. He had never been proficient in the language, outside of the general terms thetonused, commonly called ‘drawing-room French.’ He was far from being fluent, and Jacques was talking quickly.
The look he gave Elijah was almost condemning.
“What did you bring her here for?” He seemed almost horrified.
“I am here to see you! Do you know what happened after you gave me that note? It summoned me to the garden where a man tried to rape me!” Josie, spitting mad, practically launched herself at Jacques, who recoiled, his hand on his heart. His expression was truly horrified now.
“I did not know!” he protested. “I wouldneverharm a lady. I was told to deliver the note to you. I had no idea what was inside.”
Elijah got the distinct impression this was not at all how Jacques had seen this conversation going, and he certainly had not meant to confess to his part in everything—or held out longer without being directly confronted by Josie. So as much as it went against Elijah’s grain, he let Josie keep talking. His job now was to stop her from actually attacking Jacques, who seemed far more intimidated by her than Elijah. Galling, but the truth, and he was willing to use what worked.
“And you think that means you are not culpable? Who sent you? Who gave you the note?”
Josie
Venting her fury on a worthy party felt far too good, especially with Elijah’s broad shoulders and muscles to back her up. Jacques seemed chattier with her than he had with Elijah. His eyes skittered away from hers, and she got the sense he never expected to come face to face with someone he had wronged, especially not a woman and not in a place such as this. The surprise must have thrown him off balance.
“A Russian.” The moment he said the words, Jacques’ mouth snapped shut, a look of consternation flowing over his features. He had not meant to say that. In fact, he looked nervous, his eyes darting back and forth between them. “You must tell no one I told you that.”
“Why not?” This time it was Elijah who asked the question.
“I was threatened not to reveal that… If anyone was to come calling, I was supposed to say an English lord,” Jacques confessed, his face slowly paling. “My life was threatened. You must not tell anyone, please.”
“What was the Russian’s name?” Josie narrowed her eyes at him. While she believed he was telling the truth, she was not too sure she cared about whatever consequences befell Jacques. He might not have meant her harm, but he had been the cause of it, anyway.
“I do not know.” Jacques shook his head, sitting up straighter. “You must believe me. I had never seen him before. I lost a large wager here and owed him a favor, which I fulfilled by delivering the note. I have not seen him again.”
“Describe him to me,” Elijah commanded.
Not long after, they exited the room, leaving behind a sweaty and pale-faced Jacques. There had not been much more to learn from him—a dark-haired Russian man of average height and weight could have described any of the current delegation or any other number of Russian gentlemen in London.
Practically dragging her back through the crowded room of the gaming hell and out onto the street, Mitchell trotting along behind them, Elijah appeared deep in thought.
“My lord? My lord? What did he say?” Mitchell dogged Elijah’s footsteps, almost stepping on them to get Elijah’s attention. Josie scowled at him. She supposed she should be grateful since they would not have known Jacques’ whereabouts without Mitchell, but she did not like his demanding tone. Her dislike of him as a person was coloring her feelings.
