Page 8 of Provocation
‘I’ll have my secretary call them and authorize the prescription on Monday,’ he says finally.
‘Thank you so much,’ I demure. ‘They can be so debilitating.’
‘Right.’ He turns away without saying anything more and hurries away as if he can’t get out of my sight quick enough.
The feeling is mutual.
‘Miss Marguerite?’
I glance over to see Stevens by the wall holding a tray with a glass of water and some breath mints on it. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty.’
‘Thanks, Stevens,’ I mutter, taking a gulp of the water and putting it back on the tray in his hands before I grab a mint and pop it into my mouth.
Somehow, this butler always did know everything that was going on in this house at any given time.
‘I’m sorry he brought you back here, Miss Marguerite,’ he says softly.
I give him a sad smile. ‘It’s better than where he put me.’
He lets out a small sigh. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Marguerite. I know that Mrs. Novelle hoped you were happy in England.’ He shakes his head. ‘If she were here, she wouldn’t let this happen.’
I can’t help my scoff. Regardless of the birthday card I found in her room with its sentiments ofmotherliness, actions speak louder than words and her actions were quite the opposite of what Stevens is saying.
‘Stevens, please. My mother didn’t give a shit about me. She was glad I wasn’t here to cause any more trouble. If shewerehere now, I have no doubt she’d be throwing me into Joe Banderville’s arms just like John would want her to.’
He’s shaking his head before I’ve even finished speaking.
‘You’re wrong, Miss Marguerite,’ he murmurs. ‘Your mother cared for you a great deal.’
I look at the ground. ‘If you say so.’
I glance up at the butler, and at the tray he’s carrying.He always knows everything that happens here.
‘Stevens, you wouldn’t happen to know where Mr. Novelle’s Venetian shoes have gone, would you? Jack wanted to get him a new pair for Christmas. He was looking for them to get him something similar in the right size, but they weren’t upstairs.’
If Stevens knows I’m lying, he doesn’t let on. ‘I’m afraid Mr. Novelle asked that those shoes be disposed of several weeks ago, Miss Marguerite. He said that they’d become uncomfortable.’
‘Do you know what happened to them?’ I ask.
‘I’d assume they went into the incinerator, Miss.’
‘Not to charity, or something?’
‘No, Miss Marguerite,’ Stevens murmurs. ‘Items rarely leave the premises even when they’re thrown away. They would have been destroyed.’
I let out a small sigh. ‘I see.’
He stands in front of me for a moment, his eyes taking in my face.
‘I was aggrieved when I found out about the accident,’ he says quietly. ‘I was quite fond of your mother, you know.’
I give him another wan smile. ‘She liked you too, Stevens.’
I look around to make sure there’s no one listening, and step a little closer, lowering my voice. ‘That night, the night of the Gala, were you on duty?’
‘I was,’ he says solemnly.
‘Did John go to the gala?’
