Page 53 of Lord Appleby's Gorgeous Imposter
“His deputy.”
“Vaillancourt.” Viv recalled his name, his tall and elegant good looks, black hair, and cut-glass-perfect cheekbones. She had met him once at Cyprien Montagne’s. Vaillancourt had acted honored to meet her, a sophisticated gentleman out on the town who fawned over her success as an actress and spoke of some vague remembrance of her father.
“But you knew him.”
Viv’s head spun.
The maid frowned, perplexed. “You wanted me to tell him you would have him.”
Viv could not move. She licked her lips—and she panicked. Where was her acting skill now? What should she say? “I cannot recall.”
The woman looked at her as if she were the dumbest person to have ever lived. “It’s what you paid me for. To get him for you.”
“Get him? Oh, oh, I…” Viv shook her head, frightened she had destroyed her act as Charmaine. “I really do not remember.”
“You paid me to keep him happy.” Jocelyn hitched her arms on her hips.
Viv could barely breathe. “I did?”
“Oui!Do you play innocent with me? Ba! You liked his looks.” The old woman preened. “You told me to tell him about your sister, the one who was always running up the street to watch those animals in the Bonnet-Rouge.”
Viv’s stomach turned. Charmaine had ordered this woman to watch Diane as she went on her expeditions to watch the tribunals.
Tate was beside Viv at once, a hand to her arm.
Jocelyn wiped the back of her hand over her nose. “Oui, he had his friends watch the house, too. Just for you. But then you look a pretty piece to offer a man. Paid him well inchat, did you?”
Tate growled at the woman.
Viv could only stare into the past. Wouldn’t Vaillancourt want to arrest her father? What good was Diane to him?
But…but then…
Would this woman lie? Why? For fun? To see me—or rather Charmaine—squirm?But what good would it do to make this up now? Charmaine wouldn’t pay the woman more for lies she made up here years later.
She had to speak. Sound logical. Sound like Charmaine.
“I…I do remember him now. Handsome man.”
“Oui.A realchevalier.” Jocelyn cursed. “René Vaillancourt. Bastard.”
*
Tate had Viv’sarm curled in his as they bade adieu to Jocelyn Gatel. Viv held her head high as he and she turned for the door.
With a few words to the coachman, Tate climbed inside the carriage, sat beside Viv, and pulled her frozen body into his arms. He removed her little bonnet and opened the frog at the collar of her pelisse. Then, one hand to her cheek, the other armaround her stiff shoulders, he tucked her into the crook of his neck.
They rode in silence. She needed time to absorb the hellish revelations of the maid. His own conclusions he would hold inside until he had helped Viv put the news of Charmaine’s betrayal and Vaillancourt’s involvement into perspective.
When the coach stopped, he alighted first and, without a word, extended his hand to her. She came. On her face, a look of surprise soon melted to approval at the scene before her. His house, yes, it was. The servants’ entrance. Those men who followed them—Tate’s and the others—knew where they were. But few others would know. Protecting her reputation was the least he could do for her this morning.
She did not comment. She did not argue. She merely nodded at him and allowed him to lead her inside. Up the creaking stairs, they went round and round to the second floor.
He took her to his rooms. Privacy, even from his own servants, was most important to him today.
Inside his sitting room, he helped her with her pelisse and put to one side her little reticule. He heard the jingle of the metal and glass inside. Charmaine had taught Viv well how to imitate her, even carrying anétuifilled with whatever Viv could buy in Paris chemists. With nary a word, he went to his dry board and poured them both generous draughts of good cognac. He gave her hers and caught her gaze.
“I don’t know where to begin,” she said, looking into the depths of her glass and setting it aside. “What she said was so…preposterous.” When he had no response, she tipped her head in question. “You believe her.”
