Page 30 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
“There is a way to prevent him from hurting you.”
She adored his positivity and tipped her head, a wistful but vain hope at lightening her burden, if only for a moment. “I know none.”
“As of minutes ago in the salon, I became your champion. Now I can become more.”
She swallowed loudly. Temptation shimmered through her bloodstream. She ran her fingertips down the supple silk and satin of his waistcoat and frock coat. “We are friends. I never do more.”
“We can pretend—”
Dazed by his offer, she stilled—and thrilled to the temptation.
He stared at her lips. “We could give the world a fine act.”
“Kisses are dangerous.”Yours would be devastating.
“Not as dangerous as that man’s attentions.”
“How do I know you will remain true to your word?”
“I would never harm you. In any way. I have my own reputation to uphold.”
“You once were a rogue. Aside from your actions on the Malmaison road two years ago.” She swallowed, having given him more information than she should.
He snorted. “You have a dossier on me, do you, Augustine?”
“I have word of your past on good authority.”
“I would have to know why you have such information.” He arched a brow, his gray eyes glittering. “Or we could agree you have purpose of your own. Then, to foil that man, we would play at being lovers.”
Her heart told her to accept. Her old fear told her to reject him. “I—I must think on it.”
He stepped backward, his palms in the air in the manner of surrender. “Do that. But decide quickly. Vaillancourt’s pride has been pricked. A man like that never waits too long to take revenge.”
Chapter Eight
The bathhouse wasa reputable establishment near the church of St. Denis to the north of Paris. Gus took hired carriages and, as ever, changed twice to ensure her secrecy. Her aunt did not like her going there and had railed against it. But this was the twenty-fifth of the month—time to collect what information came to her from her source in Amboise.
The bathhouse was for men and women, so it seemed normal for her to wait outside there to search for her contact each month. She went on the same date each month, but because she had been ill in April, she had not appeared then. She worried that her associate had feared for her survival—or her sudden duplicity. Such was always a possibility in the work she did. But each month, she altered the conditions just enough to lessen the chance someone would capture her colleague and try to substitute himself for her man.
She took her second carriage around the remains of the medieval Peripherique wall. She changed clothes in the alley of a small villagefaubourgwhere no one cared if a woman in old shoes and moth-eaten bonnet appeared and hailed a carriage from the square. That lady was a stranger. She had no similarity to the female who had appeared across the square on the same day in March. In fact, that woman who had appeared had been attired in clothes fit for a poor shopgirl. This one who alighted from the rickety fiacre looked like a prosperous barmaid.
Gus strolled the plaza toward the old basilica and bought bread from the patisserie, careful to examine those around for any who followed her. The church, built in the second century, was where all French monarchs and their families were buried. Or to be precise, it had been where they had rested in peace until the early ’90s, when terrorist mobs attacked the church, pillaged the fine statues, and rummaged through the bones of royals in their graves.
Finishing her bread, she wiped the crumbs from her mouth with the back of her hand. A vision of handsome, dashing Ashley popped into her head. If Ashley knew she was here, he would scream at her for lack of brains. But he did not know what she did or with whom or how or why. Even if he suspected, he would need ever so much more information to put together the puzzle of her actions. She might debate the necessity of revealing some of that to him, but after this interview she would decide. After all, he was too delicious to learn he died for knowing her secrets.
The square was clear, and she hurried toward the door to the bathhouse. She loitered, per the plan. But no one appeared. Fearing she had the hour wrong—or her associate did—she paid her coin with thanks to the proprietor.
With no other way to wile away the time until the next stroke of the hour, she took the hall to the women’s room. The men’s and women’s steam rooms were separate from each other. The women’s part of the house was always clean. No one was about. She quickly disrobed, folded her clothes and tucked them in the cubbyhole, grabbed some toweling, then turned toward the steam room.
The heat through the tiled floors was torrid this spring day. Gus didn’t mind. The heat warmed her as little else ever could, and for days after a visit, her breathing would be easier. Inside, two other women sat, towels around them, their eyes closed. She knew neither of them—nor did she expect to.
After about ten minutes, Gus rose and headed through the far door to the sunken bath. She’d spend only a few minutes here, then dry, dress, and return to the entrance to await her contact.
She strolled along one side of the oblong pool. Inside, one young woman sat by the edge of the water on the stone bench. Gus took one hard look, then another. She blinked. Recognizing her was a shock. The fact that this young lady was here in the baths was either too much coincidence or none at all. Gus feared the latter, and it boded no good.
She put her towel on a stone bench and stepped naked into the warm water. Today, the presence of the lovely golden blonde with expressive umber eyes spiked Gus’s nerves. But she schooled herself to casually float on her back for a few minutes. She did not wish to approach her too quickly, assuming the girl knew that Gus and her brother met to transfer all sorts of information that could get them imprisoned and even killed. After a few minutes, Gus let the waters carry her toward the sister of her aunt’s vintner from Amboise.
“Bonjour, my friend. I am surprised to find you here.” Gus had to know more before any other women entered the baths.
