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Authors: Michelle Diener
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usually forceful butler to leave him as prickly as a drenched cat? Jonathan wondered if Edgars would actually knock, or pretend he had and say she hadn’t responded.
He walked to the library and stood by the fire, looking into the flames and soaking up their warmth.
“You wanted to see me?”
So Edgars had found some mettle after all. Jonathan turned, a faint sense of wrongness he couldn’t pin down chiming in his head. But his brain stopped working entirely when he saw her.
Madame Levéel stood in the doorway, wrapped in a silk and lace confection like a beautiful bonbon from one of the finest confectioners in London.
She had clearly been either about to go to bed or called fromher bed, but she didn’t seem annoyed. Her face was curiously blank, in fact, as if she were controlling some strong emotion.
“Sorry to have disturbed you,” he finally managed, after she’d stared at him for half a minute, waiting. “Edgars said you thought you were followed by someone when you were out earlier, and I caught a burglar in the act at Goldfern, the house a few doors down. I just wanted to know if you had a good look at your man?”
She went white. Quite, quite white, and her eyes widened. She lifted a hand and scrabbled it against the doorway until she had herself steady. “You caught a burglar at Goldfern?” Her voice was faint.
He frowned, the spell her appearance had cast over him receding a little. He noticed now that she looked extremely tired, with dark shadows under her eyes.
“I didn’t lay hands on him, if that’s what you mean. I chased him down but he got away. Ran out through the door in the back garden wall, out into the alleyway behind.”
“Into the shadows,” she said, her voice quiet and a little strange.
He cleared his throat. “Did you see someone?”
She shook her head. “It was just a feeling, like I told Edgars. A feeling of being watched, followed. I didn’t see anyone.” She drew her dressing gown close around her. “I was frightened, but it was all in my imagination.”
He stared her, and she eventually dropped her eyes and pulled the robe even tighter about her, pulling it taut over every line and curve in her body.
She most likely thought she was preserving her modesty. He would have laughed, but he didn’t think he was capable of it at the moment.
“It’s possible he had an accomplice, waiting for him, or he was waiting in the alley for you to leave before he broke in.” The thought of her being so vulnerable made him a little sick.
“An accomplice?” She bowed her head completely and closed her eyes, and then she shivered. Lifted her face to his. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of any help.”
Without waiting for a dismissal, she turned and stumbled away, as if the thought that there could have been a real basis for her fears had stripped her of all proper decorum.
And as he watched her go, two things occurred him. The first was to wonder how and why a cook was wearing silk and lace nightclothes, and the second was the realization of what had appeared wrong when she first addressed him.
Most servants called him “my lord” automatically.
Madame Levéel had not.
Perhaps it was because she was French, but that didn’t ring true. If she’d used the equivalent French term, that would have been enough—but she’d addressed him as an equal. And now that he came to think of it, she had left him the same way.
9
S he was so tired, she swayed like a drunk in the dawn light that found its way through the clouds and fell through the high kitchen windows. It was almost too late to go to the early morning market, but she’d have to take her chances and find whatever was left of the good produce.
Mavis had stoked the stove and put a kettle on, and Gigi stumbled around the kitchen looking for coffee so she’d at least be half-awake when she bargained with the traders.
A shadow man with a lantern had prowled Goldfern in her dreams. And according to Lord Aldridge, he
He walked to the library and stood by the fire, looking into the flames and soaking up their warmth.
“You wanted to see me?”
So Edgars had found some mettle after all. Jonathan turned, a faint sense of wrongness he couldn’t pin down chiming in his head. But his brain stopped working entirely when he saw her.
Madame Levéel stood in the doorway, wrapped in a silk and lace confection like a beautiful bonbon from one of the finest confectioners in London.
She had clearly been either about to go to bed or called fromher bed, but she didn’t seem annoyed. Her face was curiously blank, in fact, as if she were controlling some strong emotion.
“Sorry to have disturbed you,” he finally managed, after she’d stared at him for half a minute, waiting. “Edgars said you thought you were followed by someone when you were out earlier, and I caught a burglar in the act at Goldfern, the house a few doors down. I just wanted to know if you had a good look at your man?”
She went white. Quite, quite white, and her eyes widened. She lifted a hand and scrabbled it against the doorway until she had herself steady. “You caught a burglar at Goldfern?” Her voice was faint.
He frowned, the spell her appearance had cast over him receding a little. He noticed now that she looked extremely tired, with dark shadows under her eyes.
“I didn’t lay hands on him, if that’s what you mean. I chased him down but he got away. Ran out through the door in the back garden wall, out into the alleyway behind.”
“Into the shadows,” she said, her voice quiet and a little strange.
He cleared his throat. “Did you see someone?”
She shook her head. “It was just a feeling, like I told Edgars. A feeling of being watched, followed. I didn’t see anyone.” She drew her dressing gown close around her. “I was frightened, but it was all in my imagination.”
He stared her, and she eventually dropped her eyes and pulled the robe even tighter about her, pulling it taut over every line and curve in her body.
She most likely thought she was preserving her modesty. He would have laughed, but he didn’t think he was capable of it at the moment.
“It’s possible he had an accomplice, waiting for him, or he was waiting in the alley for you to leave before he broke in.” The thought of her being so vulnerable made him a little sick.
“An accomplice?” She bowed her head completely and closed her eyes, and then she shivered. Lifted her face to his. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of any help.”
Without waiting for a dismissal, she turned and stumbled away, as if the thought that there could have been a real basis for her fears had stripped her of all proper decorum.
And as he watched her go, two things occurred him. The first was to wonder how and why a cook was wearing silk and lace nightclothes, and the second was the realization of what had appeared wrong when she first addressed him.
Most servants called him “my lord” automatically.
Madame Levéel had not.
Perhaps it was because she was French, but that didn’t ring true. If she’d used the equivalent French term, that would have been enough—but she’d addressed him as an equal. And now that he came to think of it, she had left him the same way.
9
S he was so tired, she swayed like a drunk in the dawn light that found its way through the clouds and fell through the high kitchen windows. It was almost too late to go to the early morning market, but she’d have to take her chances and find whatever was left of the good produce.
Mavis had stoked the stove and put a kettle on, and Gigi stumbled around the kitchen looking for coffee so she’d at least be half-awake when she bargained with the traders.
A shadow man with a lantern had prowled Goldfern in her dreams. And according to Lord Aldridge, he
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