Page 63 of Never a Duchess
Lillian gripped the duke’s arm and tugged gently. “I think we’ve learnt all we can today.” She faced the profligate perfumer who possessed as much charisma as he did remorse. “Might you tell us the name of the last woman you stole from Mr Valmary?”
Monsieur Baudelaire leaned closer, the cloying scent of his cologne making her want to heave. “A gentleman would not be so impolite. I prefer to keep my conquests close to my heart, madame. A lady’s secrets are safe in my hands.”
His arrogance beggared belief. But she had two final questions in this hopeless battle to unnerve him. “Have you ever been in love, monsieur? Have you ever wanted a woman so badly you would forsake the game?”
The Frenchman jerked in response, a dark cloud banishing his pompous grin. Deep frown lines on his brow said he was struggling to keep a painful memory at bay.
“Once. A long time ago. Rejection, it can make a man cold and unfeeling. Distractions are like a tonic for a broken heart.”
“One feels the ripples of life’s traumas long after the event,” she said. The same applied to everyone, regardless of why they suffered.
“Indeed.” A sudden crash behind them had Monsieur Baudelaire marching over to the counter. “Sacré bleu, drop another bottle and I shall deduct the cost from your wages.”
One could tell a lot from a man’s reactions. Mr Valmary had feared poison when his assistant broke a bottle. Monsieur Baudelaire was concerned about the cost, the inconvenience. Only the poisoner would know not to worry about contaminated perfume.
Lillian kept a firm grip on Dounreay’s arm. He was in a devil of a mood and she didn’t want him fighting with a suspect. And touching him brought comfort amid painful thoughts of him leaving.
“Come, let us go,” she said. Ailsa and Lord Denton were arguing about an upcoming book auction. Collecting ancient tomes was the only thing the pair had in common. “Men like Monsieur Baudelaire thrive on competition. Let’s hope he knows you have no romantic interest in me, else he might rise to the challenge.”
Dounreay huffed in frustration. “Madam, at what point did ye decide I had nae interest? When I grasped yer bare buttocks in the maze? When ye wanted more than the stroke of my tongue in the theatre?” He lowered his voice another notch. “Or when ye came so hard, my name fell from yer lips?”
Heavens! Her temperature soared, forcing her to fan herself at the memories. Still, she was not the one who had put paid to their plans.
“Since you decided to focus on the case. Since you rejected my offer to visit you tonight. I’m not sure what made you drive a wedge between us, but I sense your anger stems from something I have said or done.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “It isnae yer fault. ’Tis mine.”
That made the matter more confusing.
Much harder to fix.
She wanted to press him for information, but he said, “What we want and what’s best are two different things.” He cleared his throat to get Lord Denton’s attention and beckoned him over. “Take Denton and Ailsa and question Mrs Gregory. I need to visit MacTavish and make arrangements to return home.”
Then he turned on his heel and left.
Through the window, she watched him march along Ludgate Hill, his sad expression at odds with his purposeful strides. Not once did he look back. Not once did he falter.
Feelings congregated inside like a colony of penguins, all crowding together, filling every space, waiting for her to realise that every interaction with Dounreay had helped to melt the ice around her heart.
“Penguins?” Lillian glanced heavenward and sighed. “When I need the Divine’s guidance, you make me think of penguins. What have penguins to do with the duke?”
“During courtship, male penguins search for the perfect pebble to give a mate,” Ailsa said upon hearing Lillian’s mutters. “If she accepts, he knows he has found her.”
Lord Denton’s snort rang with mockery. “You mean he couldn’t find her just by sniffing her natural scent? You see, Miss MacTavish, it’s not unknown for a species to use props to attract the opposite sex.”
Ailsa batted the lord’s arm. “Romantic gestures and masking one’s identity are nae the same at all.”
The lord grumbled under his breath. “Daventry asked us to accompany you during your visit to Mrs Gregory. I take it Dounreay is meeting us there.”
Lillian’s heart lurched. Tears gathered behind her eyes. “The duke won’t be joining us. He has pressing business elsewhere. But we need to ensure Mrs Gregory is alive and ask her a few simple questions.”
Impatient to leave, the lord consulted his pocket watch. “You’ve another hour of my time, Miss Ware. That’s all I can spare.”
Ailsa laughed. “He needs to send his valet to Floris to purchase a crate of expensive cologne. Lord knows, he wouldnae risk a woman catching a whiff of the real man beneath that fine coat.”
The lord sneered. “I can tell you what I won’t be doing,lassie. Scouring the riverbank looking for the perfect pebble.”
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