Page 73 of Avenging the Earl's Lady
And yet…and yet…
“Please, Jane.Please do not leave me yet.”
Hot tears rushed her eyes.That had been heartfelt.And what a pathetic watering pot she was becoming.
She nodded.“I couldn’t possibly put together an escape that quickly.”
He leaned in and his lips touched hers, warm and firm.
And then he was gone.
Jane staggered to the sideboard where Madame kept her sherry and poured a drink.
Monsieur Guignard entered on a cool draft of air that made the tapers flicker.He was carrying the gold-painted rolling pin, the one she had used as a case for the painting.
“My lady, my betrayal was unavoidable I’m afraid.But I believe, nevertheless, that we shall both receive better benefit from the new arrangement, and a certain level ofsécuritéfar better than had we acted on our own.And should you still feel the need for funds to leave the country, I have something here that I hope will restore your trust in Monsieur Guignard.”
He pried the lid from the tube and slid out a rolled canvas.
Her breath caught as she unfurled it, her pulse accelerating.
The varnish was not as cracked as the original—but a buyer might think it was the original that had been restored.The row of numbers still ran along the crimped yellowed edge.
“It’s brilliant.”She glanced up at Guignard.“Or…is this the original?Did you give Shaldon a copy?”
He shook his head.“I would not presume to deceive that particular earl.I know of a dealer in Flanders who will be happy to look at this.We can sell it to him for a good price.”
“We?”Guignard obviously thought he was coming with her to the Continent.She supposed she would need someone’s help if she meant to sell off a copy as the original.
Unless she sold it here before leaving.She could give Guignard his commission, and give a portion to Quentin, though he wouldn’t need it if Shaldon had paid his debt and found him employment.
She smoothed the canvas again.Quentin had made his indifference clear—he didn’t need her help.What could she have expected after years of estrangement and neglect?
Staying in England, with Quentin ignoring her and Shaldon importuning her while he carried out his other affairs would be intolerable.But traveling to the Continent with Guignard?No…just…no.
“You may help me sell it here,” Jane said.
“But to whom?”
She straightened her spine and walked to the window.The sun was up, the shopkeepers were opening, and carts of goods rumbled in the street below.
It was only a copy.She would start with the obvious client.
“He is not in.”
The stuffy porter at Mivart’s Hotel had taken her name and examined her closely before allowing her and her two companions, Guignard and Ewan, across the establishment’s threshold.
She’d refused a new gown, but Barton had found her suitable undergarments for this mission and covered her tightly coiled plait in a fashionable bonnet.She was presentable for Mivart’s and its noble clientele.
“My lady.”Guignard tugged at her sleeve.“We should not bother the D—”
“When would be a good time to call?”Jane asked the porter.It was early of course for the aristocracy, but mid-morning was not too early for a matter so urgent.She couldn’t put together an escape in one day, perhaps, but she could make a good start on her plans once she had money.
Guignard had discouraged her attempting this negotiation, insisting he would take care of everything.As if she would ever again fully trust him.
“If you would leave a note I shall see that he receives it.”
“Very well,” she said.“But the matter is urgent.You must see that he receives it immediately upon his arrival.”
