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It was a happy place for me and they let me stay until…I had to leave and meet Papa. He’d written to me asking me to join him in Paris.”
    “So you left…”
    She paused, thinking. Remembering as best she could. “Yes, I left. That would have been at least two months ago now, I suppose.” She glanced up at Dev. “I found a boat. A merchant ship with fine cabins for passengers. Fortunately, I had friends on board and made one of their party. I went to Nice and from there to Paris with an older lady I met on the ship. That would have been when…a few weeks ago? I don’t know—this is a muddle in my head. I’d hoped to meet Papa, but I remember he wasn’t there. So I went…I went…to the coast. To Cherbourg I think…”
    “So you might have been in Paris a couple of weeks ago…” Dev let the question hang in the air.
    “Perhaps.” She bit her lip in frustration. “But I cannot recall anything at all from then on and even that bit is hazy.”
    “It’s all right, dear,” soothed Bertie.
    But Léonie shook her head. “No, it’s not, Aunt Bertie. I wish it were. But I have no idea if I stayed anywhere in Cherbourg or even if it was Cherbourg. It could have been Calais or anywhere along the Channel coast. And I got passage to London…why? Is Papa here? Is he looking for me?”
    “We don’t know, Léonie. I haven’t been able to find him thus far. But I only began my inquiries today, so there is still plenty of time. Now I have information to assist me. You’ve been an enormous help.”
    She looked at him, really looked at him, seeing the strength of purpose behind the gentle eyes. He was a man a woman could lean on if she needed to, and who would stand by her side as well, if that were required.
    He was a man one could easily become attached to. And given the current situation, that might be a very bad thing for both of them.
    Without thought, she held out her hand. “Can you find my father, do you think?”
    He automatically took it and held it in his, curling his fingers around hers and enveloping her with his warmth. “I’ll do everything in my power to find him, Léonie. You can bet your best hat on that.”
    Her lips twitched. “But Dev. I don’t have any hats at all.”
    “Then you have nothing to lose.”
    She laughed with Bertie, but something inside her was beginning to stir and remind her that she still had a great deal to lose. 
    Her heart.
     

Chapter Seven
    Within a few days, Dev’s frustration was growing, even as Léonie’s health improved.
    He had no answers to the questions he knew she wanted to ask, because they were the same questions that haunted his every waking moment. There was no sign at all of Colonel Girard in London. And that was one of the biggest worries of all.
    Ian McPherson had stopped at Deverell House for a brief visit, merely to update and confirm that Lord Aubrey Elwyn had indeed been murdered, and that his house had been cleared of valuables. The local authorities were eager to dismiss it as a burglary that had resulted in Lord Elwyn’s death at the hands of the criminals, but McPherson wasn’t convinced. He was on his way to Whittingford to—as he put it—sniff around a bit.
    Dev had given him a look and in response Ian had nodded. Yes, it had been a bit too much of a coincidence for either of their liking although the Elwyn connection to Léonie was tenuous at best. He promised to get in touch when he returned.
    With that, Dev had to be satisfied, although it was far from useful and there wasn’t anything that he wanted to share with Léonie yet.
    She was spending more and more time on her feet now, and when there was a loud knock at the door one morning, she was already finishing her breakfast and wrapped securely in the robe she had come to love. Aunt Bertie had felt good enough about her charge’s progress to plan a few visits and was absent, leaving Léonie to her own devices. She promised she’d not be bored, since there was a substantial