Page 58 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
She shivered. “Tomorrow, should we go to the front door?”
Kane shook his head. “We will alarm Bonnet if we do otherwise. He is possibly already bewildered by his mistress’s disappearance or by Vaillancourt. I hope to God he and his men have not bothered Bonnet.”
“Don’t you think they have questioned him?” she asked.
“It is most likely.”
She bit her lip. “But Bonnet is so sweet. I would hate to think he’ll meet a bad end. Or that I brought it upon him.”
Kane put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “We have to ask him.”
She put her head to his shoulder. This affection filled her with awe…and need. She fought to put her mind to the subject at hand. “So we go knock on his door, even if we sign his death decree in doing so.” She groaned. “I hate this.”
He drew her closer.
She curled against him, taking his tenderness and salving her conscience with it. Wrong though it was.
He got to his feet. “I am not happy either. If he has no idea where she is, then you and I must come to terms with a dilemma.”
Gus knew what that was. She stood and pressed her hands against his warm, massive chest. “No, Kane. We can’t give up. We can’t go back to Paris without her.”
He set her away from him and gave her a consoling but sad smile. “I agree. Go to bed. We have much to do to find her.”
Chapter Fifteen
The following morning,as they made their way toward the center of town and the St. Antoines’ manse, he and Gus were friends. Allies. They were avoiding the complications of an affair. While he could not be happy about that, he could be proud of them both. They had problems. She knew thingsstillthat she was not telling him. He had much he had not revealed to her—not even that occasionally he’d glimpsed one of his own men following them. Kane was simply pleased that he and Gus moved on, united.
Maurice St. Antoine had lived in the old manse in the capital of the canton of Reims since his birth. The house, a four-story-tall beauty with circular dormer windows and a high roofline, was of the French Renaissance. The manse had been in his family since Francis the First had been crowned across theplacefrom the Reims Cathedral. The shadows of the twin spires fell over the tiny street as their carriage rolled up to the front door.
Kane climbed down and offered his hand to Gus. She gave it, but with silence and not a little trepidation.
Kane took in her appearance this morning. His beautiful Raven was her brave self this morning. During breakfast, she’d brooded, and he could not coax her from it. Finally, she had given in and shown him her courage with a shake of her head. She had affirmed that they would do what they must, accepting any outcome.
As for their growing ease together, their growing affection for each other, his mind could declare their relationship would be platonic. But his body yearned for her to come to his arms as naturally as she had last night. He enjoyed her company. He admired her courage. He desired her lush, firm body. And she, dear God, wanted him. But that was no reason to go against her own wishes to remain unmarried. Or his own to sire no bastards. Or, heaven forbid, to roil her aunt. Powerful as that woman was in Society, he needed her to accept him and praise his work.
Gus would not be his. He had known it from the start. From the Malmaison road. From the salon the first night he had met her. Gus was a creature of the court. A favorite along with her Aunt Cecily. He was here to pick her brain, to learn where Amber was. Not to seduce her.
How unfair that would be.
And how marvelous that would be. To have her, he increasingly knew, would be more than a thrill. He would want her a second time, a third…and more. He would want her as his own. The jealousy he’d felt when other men looked at her, or when she spoke about them, caused him a little madness. Thus, he suspected that the need to claim her as his own was more than manly pride. But he dare not name it. That fine affection he could not afford. Not here. Not in France.
Not now. Perhaps…not ever.
He assisted Gus up the steps and then rapped the knocker on the polished black door.
The little Frenchman who answered stared at him, then glared at her for a long moment, and finally broke into a smile that showed all his teeth. He welcomed them inside with a wealth of greetings. “Mademoiselle Bolton! Monsieur Whittington!Bon jour. Bon jour. Merci,allez!Please come in!”
They entered the small hall, the rays of sun shining golden rays on the golden oak walls and highlighting the red andblue Turkish carpet that ran down the long hall, where a huge, circular stained-glass window poured all the colors of the rainbow upon them.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Bonnet,” Gus greeted him with a tender clasp of his hands. “Forgive us our early morning call and without sending any notice.” Kane smiled in remembrance of how well themajordomhad taken care of him years ago when he was young and in such need for secrecy. “I come with my condolences for the passing of your master.”
The thin little fellow clasped his hands before him. “Merci beaucoup, monsieur. He was a good man. I miss him. We all do. Will you both come into the salon, please?”
Kane followed Bonnet and Gus into the beauty of the three-hundred-year-old house, fragrant with roses and the hint of cinnamon. He took a huge chartreuse silk Louis Quatorze chair near the fireplace. Gus sat in a matching chair opposite him. Having no master or mistress at home, Bonnet had not lit a fire. The beautiful pink and lime room was cold and forbidding.
“Thank you,monsieur.” Kane regarded Gus with a small smile. “Mademoiselle Bolton and I are here eager to talk with you.”
Bonnet’s pale visage darkened. “I welcome a talk,oui.”
