Page 71 of Lord Appleby's Gorgeous Imposter
She was hearing the words for a second time, but they were just as devastating. “How? Why?”
“She was impertinent. Always chiding the guards, insulting the turnkey. The concierge found her appealing, though. When she was not being snide. He found her…delightful.”
The innuendo was not lost on Viv.
“I know you have been to visit Madame la Comtesse Nugent. So be not coy with me. I am certain the lady would be as forthcoming as she could about your sister. But it was not the countess who was Diane’s friend—it was Madame St. Antoine.”
The lady’s very name sounded like a prayer from his lips.
“I have not met her.”
He threw her a look that could kill her. “I know.”
Lost in some euphoria of remembrance about St. Antoine, Vaillancourt spun to a window and stared out. He scowled at those in the street below.
“Amber knew that Diane befriended many in the cells. She told me how she had watched your sister give her own bread and gruel away to those who were beaten or in need. Diane’s generosity was the very reason she was taken away by the concierge. Your sister gave her own bread and slops to another who was to be starved to death. So then Diane was caught, marched to the courtyard…and shot.”
Viv felt the last like a punch to her gut. A hand to her stomach, she stood but knew not how.
But Vaillancourt inhaled and, filled with some steely might, turned on her. “Why did you return to Paris?”
She managed to find words. “I had to learn about Diane.”
“Why? You cared nothing about her before. Why now?”
“I…I was tormented by the lack.”
“How sweet.”
Viv allowed her indignation to swallow her sorrow.
“Don’t give me this weeping sister act,” he spat at her. “I know of what you are capable. So I ask again, why did you return to Paris?”
“I have to earn a living.” She held her head high to say it. Damn him.
He tsked. “Sad Charmaine.”
“I need not be insulted.” She whirled to go.
“But you will need to know where Cantrell is.”
She faced him, the swishing of her skirts the only sound in the room. “Tell me.”
He gave her a mirthless grin. “After you tellmea few things.”
“What?” She would play his word game and go.
He took his time. “Where did you disappear to last spring?”
That befuddled her. He already knew Charmaine had disappeared from London and the stage. “What?”
“How did I know you were gone?” he asked with a lift of his shoulders. Innocence dripped from his sly mouth.
Yes. How? Why?
“My dearCharmaine”—he said her name as if it were a curse—“of course I know you did not appear in London last spring as you should have.”
Viv looked into his gaze and felt he had nailed her to the floor.
