Miss Lavigne's Little White Lie (34 page)

Once the driver assisted her to the ground, she pulled coins from her reticule and handed them to him. “This should cover the fare.”

“Do ye want me to wait, miss?”

“That isn’t necessary. Thank you for your service.”

He tipped his hat. “Aye, miss.”

The lack of noise in the neighborhood was unsettling, but by society’s standards, she was awake much too early. She had slowly come to accept most of the
ton
kept unhealthy hours, although she did not approve.

Serafine climbed the two front steps and checked the address on the paper. Her destination possessed nothing distinctive to differentiate it from the other two town houses butted up on either side, except for the number four attached to the peeling green door.

She rang the bell as the hack drove away. The jangle sent a shiver along her spine.

Someone
is
watching.

Whipping around to scan the streets, her gaze darted from side to side, but the dense fog obscured everything from view. A cloud of gray enclosed her in a secret world. Serafine twittered and rolled her neck. How asinine to think anyone could see her. Why, she could barely see the toes of her half boots.

She turned back to the door, prepared to ring the bell again, but halted as locks tumbled and the door screeched open. A diminutive lady with tousled silver hair and streaks of crimson rouge painted on her cheeks frowned through the crack in the door.

“What, pray tell, brings
you
to my door? I only rent to gentlemen.” She opened the door farther, wrinkled her nose, and swept her gaze from Serafine’s head to toes. “I run a respectable place, you know.”

Serafine smiled, ignoring her insinuation. The woman clearly didn’t have her wits about her, not when she had donned her gown backward and had her free hand shoved into a winter muff in this unbearable heat.

“I have it on good authority you cater to the most honorable of gentlemen,” Serafine replied. “My brother once rented a room from you. Mr. Xavier Vistoire?”

The woman’s frown deepened. “Him again? I already told the gentlemen before you that Mr. Vistoire disappeared.” Deep lines appeared at the corners of her eyes as she narrowed them. Her pursed mouth formed a tight circle, giving her face the appearance of a dried-up apple core. The woman possessed either bad eyesight or a tendency toward suspicion. Maybe both.

“He kept late hours, you know.” Her voice gurgled as if she swallowed water as she spoke. “He patronized the gaming hells, and he didn’t pay his rent for the last two months before he vanished. He probably got himself into trouble.”

Serafine suppressed a wince. Xavier had fallen in with a rough crowd in New Orleans before he left for the Continent, and he had gambled away most of his inheritance. She’d hoped a different locale would give him a new direction for his life. It appeared her hopes were for naught.

She opened her reticule. “This is precisely my reason for calling today, madame. I have come to settle my brother’s debt and collect his belongings. How much does he owe?”

“Five pounds. I will only accept pounds, you know. No worthless foreign bills.”

“Of course.” Serafine forced a polite expression as she dug out the money and placed it in the woman’s emaciated claw. “And two additional pounds for your trouble.”

The woman snatched the money then flashed a gritted-teeth smile. “Peace and blessings,” she hissed.

“Oh!” Serafine fell back a step. “Th—thank you.”

“Come inside, my dear.”

An eerie sensation shot through her, and she hesitated on the stoop.

The woman walked farther into the narrow corridor. Her bony shoulder blades jutted through the neckline of the backward gown. “I have your brother’s items in a crate.”

Serafine shook off her uneasiness and followed, but she left the front door open as a precaution.

The woman tugged the handle of a door off the foyer. She grunted as she pulled several times. The door surrendered with a crack and flew open, almost sending her to her backside.

Serafine peeked through the opening. “You store items in the water closet?” Crates filled the small space from floor to ceiling.

“Here it is.”

“Allow me to assist.”

The woman waved her off then stooped low and lifted the crate with a guttural groan. Teetering from the weight of the crate, she pitched against the door frame.

Serafine jumped to take the burden from her arms. “Did you hurt yourself?”

The woman rubbed her elbow. “Pardon, dear?”

“Never mind.” Serafine could see for herself the woman was uninjured, and she didn’t wish to extend her time there unnecessarily. “Please accept my apologies for my brother’s delay in paying his debts.”

She spun on her heel and rushed out the open door without waiting for a reply. Bustling down the block, she didn’t slow until she reached the corner. Was this the correct way? No landmarks stood out to her as she looked up and down each road, not that she could see much in the haze. She contemplated the best route back to Curzon Street. Should she stay on the current street or turn right?

She should have paid closer attention on the ride. She couldn’t stand around like a ninny all morning. Lisette and Daniel would be awake and readying themselves for a ride in the park soon. Making a choice, she turned right.

Halfway up the block, hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. She threw a look over her shoulder. No one was there. Still, the sensation of someone watching her didn’t go away.

She rushed forward, anxious to reach the next intersection where she recognized the outline of a milk wagon parked along the street. The sound of a boot fall echoed on the sidewalk several feet behind her. She whirled around. “Who’s there?”

There were no movements in the gray, no flash of color to reveal someone hiding in the fog. Perhaps the old woman’s mental frailty was catching. Nevertheless, Serafine moved with haste toward the next block.

A carriage passed on the cross street, the horses’ harness jingling, and then another. She would feel better once she reached a busier street with more people. Heavy footsteps echoed on the sidewalk behind her, running.

Serafine’s heart leapt and she dashed for the street ahead, not daring to look back. The crate and her skirts slowed her down, but she was almost there.

Her heart pumped brutally and her chest heaved with labored gasps for air. She surged forward to reach the corner before her pursuer caught her and plowed into someone, the forceful blow disorienting her.

“What the devil?” a startled voice yelped.

The crate flew from her hands and Serafine tumbled forward too fast to catch herself. Bits of gravel ripped through her gloves as she landed in the lane. Her palms and knees screamed with pain.

“Watch out!” The panicked voice made her head pop up. A carriage barreled out of the fog toward her. She froze.

“Sera!” Strong hands gripped her shoulders and hauled her from the ground and out of the way. The wind of the carriage flying past lifted her hat brim. Breathing ceased and everything slowed. Isaac spun her around to face him. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear him.

She gulped in a lungful of air. The street sounds filtered back into her awareness. The warmth of Isaac’s hands on her arms seeped into her skin.

“Blasted mad wench,” an angry male voice said. “Watch where ye goin’ next time. Would ’ave served ye right if ye was to get squashed.”

“Go to the devil,” Isaac snarled then reached up to brush her cheek with his thumb. “For the love of God, Sera, are you injured?”

She shook her head, too stunned to speak. Why was Isaac here? He had appeared as if he were her guardian angel.

“What happened?” he asked. “Why are you out alone?”

Her body quaked. “I—I thought someone was chasing me.”

“Chasing you? From which direction?” She pointed. Isaac released her and ran a few paces down the block.

“I don’t see anyone,” he called before turning, stalking back to her, and enfolding her in his arms again. His embrace stirred her emotions. “Don’t you realize it is dangerous to be out alone in London?”

Xavier’s belongings littered the walkway.

“Oh!” She broke free of Isaac’s arms and dropped to her knees to snatch the items before they became lost to her: a shaving brush, a comb, a mix of cuff links, and a letter. Her fingers brushed over Xavier’s name on the missive. She opened the missive and scanned the contents. It was the letter her uncle’s solicitor had sent long ago notifying Xavier of their uncle’s death and urging him to return to New Orleans. She would read it later this evening.

“Let me help you.” Isaac joined her on the ground. His hand touched hers as they gathered the items and returned them to the crate.

“It’s Xavier’s belongings.” Her voice quivered.

“Is this all that’s left?”

This
is
all
I
have
left.
Isaac’s image blurred. Her brother was gone and all that was left of him was the sum of a few items that didn’t fill a crate.

“Oh, Sera. Please, don’t cry.” Isaac pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to her. “Please, darling.”

She refused his offering. “I’m not crying. Take it back.” Even as she denied her emotions, salty tears rolled down her cheeks.

He touched the handkerchief to her cheeks. “Of course you aren’t, darling.”

Damn his tenderness. “I need help standing.”

Gripping under her arm, Isaac helped her to her feet then picked up the crate.

“What are you doing here, Isaac?”

“I came to request an audience, but I can come back. I realize it’s early to call, but I couldn’t sleep.” His face flushed a deep crimson. “I couldn’t stop myself from seeking you out. You must think me foolish.”

Serafine began to recognize her surroundings since the fog had dissipated some. They were three houses down from her cousin’s town house.

Isaac shifted the crate to one arm and offered his elbow. “Sera, I’m sorry you didn’t locate Xavier, but you mustn’t give up hope.” His eyes lit with love and compassion, washing over her and covering her fully. “I’ll help you search.”

His clumsy attempt at comfort brought fresh tears to her eyes. Did she dare to trust him now? She didn’t have it in her to watch him walk away again.

She wiped her tears and sniffled. “You can never again hurt me as you did, Isaac Tucker. I won’t stand for it.”

His eyes widened and his handsome face took on a somber expression. “On my honor, Serafine, I will treat you like the most precious of treasures if you allow me another chance.”

He sounded so sincere, she couldn’t help but to smile. “You need not wait until later to call on me. Come make your offer like a proper gentleman. I shan’t deny you this time. Then I have something I must share with you.”

***

“Please take this crate to my chambers.”

Lisette perked up hearing her cousin’s voice outside the breakfast room. “Serafine is awake,” she said to Daniel. “Perhaps she would like to join us in the park.”

She slipped from the skirted dining room chair, swept into the corridor, and came up short. “Monsieur Tucker? What a surprise.”

The man’s face flamed, and he stepped in front of Serafine to shield her from view. Lisette leaned to the side and tried to peek around him. “Serafine, is there a problem?”

“It’s all right, Isaac.” Her cousin eased Monsieur Tucker aside.

“
Mon
dieu.
What happened to your gown?” Serafine’s pale yellow skirts sported vast streaks of dirt, a small tear, and possibly a spot of blood.

Daniel appeared at Lisette’s side.

Serafine looked down, smoothing her soiled gloves over her dress. “I met with an accident.”

“An accident?” With a threatening glare aimed at Monsieur Tucker, Daniel stepped forward. “Did you do this to her?”

Serafine inserted herself between the men with arms spread. “He saved me from being run down by a carriage. The gentleman deserves gratitude, not threats, Captain.”

Lisette gripped Daniel’s arm. “Run down by a carriage? But why did you leave the house?”

Daniel’s muscles tensed beneath her touch. “The blackheart had her meet him. Isn’t it obvious?”

“You’re wrong, Captain. I took a hack to my brother’s last address. I wished to retrieve his belongings. I crossed paths with Monsieur Tucker on Curzon Street when I fell into the road. He pulled me to safety.” Serafine lifted herself up with dignity and peered down her nose at both Lisette and Daniel. “Now, if you will excuse us, I have granted Monsieur Tucker a private audience in the drawing room. I shall summon you when we are ready to announce our good tidings.”

She whipped around with a swish of skirts, accepted Monsieur Tucker’s escort, and headed for the drawing room.

Lisette and Daniel stared at one another.