Page 25 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
“Believe that, do you? You also believe in Monsieur Perrault’s fairy tales?”
“Oui, I do!” She grinned that he knew the famous author who had penned the tale of the orphaned girl who had to work for her horrid stepmother.
He bent near, his voice low and intimate. “I saw you in theHalle aux blésand outside the manufactory of the Gobelin.”
She took a sip of her wine and fought for an attitude that was not flirtatious. Others would see. They always did. “Ah, but I have been here with my aunt, bored and needing your prickly self to amuse me.”
“Prickly? Not I.” He looked out over the assembled eighty or so. “I am the soul of diplomacy. That is why I’ve been successful with so many.”
She was proud of him. “Tell me how many contracts you have signed?”
“Why? Do you need to go tell others? Don’t bother. I am certain they already know, just as you do.”
“Eight?”
“Nine, as of this morning.”
“You do yourself proud.” She shook her head, wishing to move to the crux of her needs. “I hear you move on to the Loire soon.”
He gave a laugh. “You have excellent information.”
“Thank you.”
“How do you manage that?” he asked quite merrily.
She covered her truth in a flutter of lashes. “Friends.”
“Ah. Always in a pinch, visit a friend.”
“Or write.”
He lifted his glass in a toast. “Send a carrier pigeon.”
“Or a dog.”
“No!” He stared down at her. “That I have never heard of! Do you have a pet who can do that?”
“No. But it sounds possible!” she told him.
One of her aunt’s friends approached them and doused their repartee. The lady had spoken to Gus of her desire to meet the impressive man who negotiated for the British. She was a mistress of one man who, it was said, beat her. If the woman searched for a new admirer, Gus rebelled at the prospect the lady would take Ashley to her bed. But she was talkative, and when Ashley’s fellow attaché Lord Ramsey joined their discussion, Gus hoped the woman would train her eyes on that man.
But soon another of Ashley’s team, Lord Fournier, an English baron who was also part German, joined them and conversation shifted to politics. The lady lost her chance to enchant anyone. She moved on.
“Forgive me, gentlemen,” Gus told them minutes later, hating the topic of who was most influential today, and not wishing to show her own disinterest in their views. “I see a friend of mine from years past.”
*
Ramsey gave Kanea wicked eye. “You have made a conquest.”
Dirk grunted. “I’ll say.”
“Not quickly enough, I tell you.” Kane fought the urge to bring Augustine back. He needed to keep her with him and become friendlier. He was losing advantage. Few had said any word of St. Antoine’s whereabouts, and he was losing hope of finding her, alive or dead.
Last week, he’d gone north to Chantilly to investigate a trade contract. He’d asked vintners there if they had seen St. Antoine lately or talked business with her. No one had, and they questioned her disappearance. They said she was very attentive to the wine market and others’ production. Their lack of knowledge made him testy. He’d investigated a few contacts in Scarlett’s list and found three intact. Fearing two departures from St. Antoine’s agent network, he’d established a few preliminary inquiries about several men whom he might enlist as new agents for Scarlett. Then he returned to Paris, unable to be away for long without an excuse.
“No matter,” Ramsey put in, cool as January in his demeanor. “I have news. You will like it.”
“As do I,” Dirk added.
