Page 77 of Miss Delectable
Poverty was a weight no woman should have to bear, much less in her later years.
And homesickness tore at the heart, regardless of age.
“I might well be returning to France for a time, Tante. Would you like to accompany me?”
Lucille considered him. “To Provence?”
“I can escort you there if you’d like to return. Nettie’s siblings are there.”
“First, you say your customers are here, then you say you can return with me to Provence. Not long ago, you were tarrying in Champagne with Jeanette’s young relatives. What is afoot, Orion?”
Why did he prefer the women who dealt in honesty to the pretty flatterers? “The business with Deschamps has escalated. Somebody has stolen a substantial amount of champagne from my warehouse, and that same somebody took my cavalry sword from my very home.”
Tante sliced into the apple tart Orion had brought from Roberts’s bakery. “You had Monsieur add the calvados. I can already smell the fragrance.”
“He offered me a choice ofpommeauor calvados. You had specified calvados.” The cost of the tart had been outrageous, but Roberts would put the rest of the bottle to good use, and Tante would invite her friends over to sample the sweet.
“A good, robust calvados too,” she said, cutting a small serving. “You must try it.”
“Another time, when I haven’t overindulged in tea cakes.”
Tante’s look said she could count to two in several languages, thank you very much. “Tell me of Deschamps.”
A goddamned snowflake wafted past the window, a warning shot fired by the approaching winter. The air wasn’t cold enough that the snow would accumulate, but the weather had turned, and Channel crossings henceforth would be rough.
“I’m not sure Deschamps has anything to do with my situation, but I’ve noticed a pattern. When he’s in London, the rumors start up again. This has been going on for more than five years. I looked back over my journals, and the connection is plain.”
“Or the coincidence. Have you spoken with him?”
“He denies the charges, though I sensed he was lurking in the park for the express purpose of accosting me.”
Tante closed her eyes as she ate a morsel of the tart. “Most men lurk in the park to meet the ladies. You might consider doing that yourself, Orion. Take a wife and forget about the rumors. We can find you a nice French girl when we are in Provence. Monsieur Roberts has outdone himself.”
She did homage to the tart while Rye admitted to himself that no nice French girl stood a prayer of catching his eye.
“Does somebody wish for you to shoot Deschamps, perhaps?” Tante asked. “They instigate mischief against you, hoping you will call out Deschamps?”
An interesting theory. “Not a reliable or efficient plan, is it? As you say, Deschamps is quite skilled with both pistols and swords, while I am impaired by poor hearing, bad eyesight, and an unreliable hip.” None of which affected Rye’s aim with a pistol, but all of which impaired his fencing.
“You are even more impaired by a soft heart. You are done with the killing. Hence, you retreat to the land of your mother’s people.”
The longer Orion discussed the situation with Lucille, the more heavily the choice weighed on his heart.
Who benefits?Ann’s question came back to him, but as usual, no answer accompanied it. “You mentioned that Deschamps had woman trouble. Can you give me any details?”
“I am speculating. He is handsome, angry, and subjecting himself to the society of his enemies. London is not a cheap place for a foreigner to visit, nor particularly welcoming. But he is here again, is he not? Lurking in the park, brooding at his club. Just as you wonder why somebody would steal your champagne and your sword, I wonder why he’s underfoot when he could be tucked up in his mama’s chateau, flirting with the maids and reliving the glories of fighting forl’empereur.”
She took another tiny bite of her tart, no doubt tasting the days of her own glory.
“I’ve met somebody.” Rye hadn’t planned that admission, but Tante was wise and kind, and he needed her counsel. “A woman. She cooks.”
And Annie Pearson kissed and made love and had her very own pair of fierce old godmothers.
“How did you meet this woman?”
“Through Jeanette, indirectly.”
“That is the best way, through family and friends. She is English, this woman who cooks?”
