A Daughter's Destiny (22 page)

“You have no compassion, you whore!”

“Whore? I was not the one having a tryst with a stranger. I—”

Signore Benedetto struck her across the face.

Reeling back, she saw Evan catch Signore Benedetto's hand before he could hit her again. “No, Evan, don't hurt him!”

Shoving Signore Benedetto away, Evan put his arm around her. She nodded when he asked her if she was all right. It was a lie, for her head spun.

“My friends, we will—” he began.

“No, Evan,” Sal said, fury squeezing through each word, “you do not need to leave.” Black fire burned in his eyes. “Take Angiola to your wagon, signore. In the morning, I want you and your family gone. You do not treat the members of my family so. You have insulted Evan and Brienne. You have insulted me.”

“You cannot send us away, Salvatore Carbone. You need me.” Angiola stood, looking much better than she had acted. Her face was scratched, but the blood had been washed away.

“No, we have no need for you. Giovanna knows your parts.”

Cruelly she laughed. “You are going to have an old sow be a princess? You will starve.”

“Then, we shall starve,” Giovanna said with quiet dignity. “My husband is the master of Teatro Caparelli. He has told you to leave.”

Cursing, she elbowed past Sal to where her deflated father and silent mother waited. Angiola paused at the door. As her gaze settled on Brienne, she said in a superior tone, “I hope they come back for you.”

“Begone!” shouted Pietro. When Sal put a hand on his arm, he subsided as the Benedettos filed out of the wagon.

Giovanna smiled. “I am glad she is gone! Evan, Brienne, you shall stay here tonight. If those brigands return, they shall have to deal with the Caparellis.”

“What about tonight's show?” Brienne asked.

Sal patted her shoulder. “So the thrill of performing has heated your blood, too, has it?”

“I know you count on the money.”

“We made enough money this afternoon to cancel tonight's show.”

“We appreciate what you are doing for us,” Evan said.

“You are family.” Pietro slapped Evan on the back. “We stay together during the good times and the bad. No one will force you to leave until you wish to go.”

“I hope you will not come to rue those words.”

“I will not.”

Although he nodded, Evan was not so sure his friends understood the magnitude of the danger they were calling down upon themselves. He saw fear on Brienne's face. Finally, she was learning what Lagrille would do to possess the daughter of Marc-Michel Levesque.

“I think it would be for the best if Brienne and I go to the other wagon,” he said, hoping none of the Caparellis guessed he was lying. “That way, we have eyes to watch both sides, so that no one might sneak up on us.”

Sal held up his hand as Pietro started to argue. “That might be wise, Evan. Do you want me to send this young pup with you? He could help you watch.”

“That is not necessary.”

“You were hit very hard, my friend. Are you thinking wisely?”

Paying Brienne's gasp of dismay no mind, he smiled. “Mayhap it is the lump that was raised on my head that is allowing me to consider what we should do now.” He held out his hand. “Brienne?”

He thought she would pelt him with questions as soon as they stepped out of the wagon. Instead, she showed good sense and remained silent as they skulked through the shadows back to the other wagon. Closing the door behind them, he went to the bench. He shoved her bag into her hands.

“Get dressed and pack whatever you want to take with you, honey. We are getting the hell out of here.”

She sat on the bench, holding the bag in her lap. “Mayhap Angiola was telling us a lie so her parents would not be furious at her.”

“You cannot truly believe what you are saying.” He scowled. “How would she know Lagrille's name?”

“Did you speak it before when she might have heard?”

Shaking his head, he said, “I could have, but she was attacked and a man was killed. Have you forgotten that?”

She quivered so hard, he feared she would splinter into dozens of pieces. “No,” she whispered, “I have not forgotten that, although I wish I could. Do you think the man who attacked Angiola saw me on stage?”

“Your innocence is so sweet, but it will betray you.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “These men are desperate to find you, so desperate that they would confront Angiola in hopes she was you.”

“Then, they are stupid. She is taller than I am, and her hair is blond.”

“Not stupid, desperate to find you. This man who calls himself Lagrille has waited almost two decades to find you. The wealth of your father's estate must be worth the wait. Château Tonnere du Grêlon obviously is far grander than even your grandmother suggested.”

“Evan, if we leave here now and go to France and Château Tonnere du Grêlon—”

“That may be what they would like you to do. They would like to have you head right into the lion's den.” He tilted her face up so he could see her eyes which were almost lost to the darkness. “Honey, we have to disappear.”

“No!” She stood and folded her arms in front of her. “If we do that, they might turn their attention to Grand-mère in hopes of finding where I am. I cannot let them hurt her as they have Angiola.”

“And you.”

“Yes, and me. Evan, I must return to London and speak to my grandmother.”

“So she can confirm all I have told you?” He sighed. “I thought you had come to believe me.”

“I have tried.”

“But you do not trust me?”

It was as if the murderer had struck him again when Brienne turned away and looked out the window. She did not have to answer his question. Any trust that she might have begun to have for him had vanished when he had not pushed Angiola out of his arms.

He stroked her shoulders. For a moment, she softened, but then her shoulders became rigid again. Again he could guess her thoughts as easily as if she had shouted them at him. She had welcomed him into her arms before Angiola's screams had intruded, but now she was certain that had been a mistake.

You will never care for anyone but yourself. Someday you will meet someone who shall care for another more than you. Then you will understand how you have hurt others
.

He could not recall who had said that to him. His father, most likely, when Evan had left for the last time.

You find leaving so easy, son. Staying is much harder, but you always look for the easy fun, don't you?

That voice from his memory was unquestionably his father's, spoken on more occasions than he cared to recall. The man could repeat himself endlessly, not seeming to notice that Evan was no longer listening.

Reaching past her, he picked up his ragged coat and drew it on. He would have to leave Brienne, too, if he wanted to keep breathing. But he would not abandon her now. He could not be sure if her enemies were lurking out there, even now, watching for him to leave, so they could snatch her from this wagon.

“Brienne, I am sorry.”

“That is easy for you to say now that you have satisfied your curiosity about Angiola's kisses.”

He twisted her to face him. “Honey, I should not have teased you that way. All I can say is that I am sorry.”

“You never think of anything but finding something funny about everything.” She crossed her arms in front of her to keep him away. “So do you think
this
is funny?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Evan stared at her in disbelief when a smile quirked on her lips. She was giving him a dose of his own bitter medicine. With a grumble, he tapped her nose. “You are impossible, honey!”

“No more than you.”

“So do you forgive me?”

She arched a brow. “I will let you know when I do.”

“Do that.” He kissed her swiftly, wishing there was time for more. Now he must think only of keeping her safe.

Evan smiled as he wondered if Pietro was interested in going for a walk this evening. Lagrille's men would not be watching for three of them to leave the wagons.

Brienne yelped with astonishment when he grabbed her bag and emptied it onto the bench. She caught the small box that had been at the bottom. “Be careful!”

“Is there something breakable in it?”

“The miniature of my father.” She stuffed the box back into the bag. “Give me my other things.”

“Put them on.”

“What?”

He smiled. “If someone is watching these wagons, they will not be watching for Giovanna and her family. Giovanna is much rounder than you, so Lagrille's men should pay no mind to anyone dressed like her. I think Giovanna needs to go with her family to the local tavern now.”

“Where we can get the coach to London?”

“Now you understand me.”

“No,” she said, her smile fading, “I do not understand you, Evan. I fear I never will, but I will go with you. You promised Grand-mère that you would bring me back to her.”

“That sounds very trusting, honey.”

She pulled another layer of clothes over her tattered gown. “I believe that you will not break a pledge that you have made.”

“I never have.” He reached for a pillow to slip under his coat. “No matter how difficult the situation has been, I have always done what I vowed to do.”

“Until you did not take Maman's vase to Lagrille.”

“There is that.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Are you trying to talk yourself out of going with me?”

“I have no choice, Evan.”

When she went to the door, he followed. Again she was right. She had no choice but to do what she must.

Neither did he.

Chapter Fourteen

The last of the day's light was slipping behind the buildings on the other side of Grosvenor Square. The trees along the edge of the square were budded, something Brienne had not noticed when she left almost a fortnight ago. Around her, the fog reeked of chimney soot and clung to her face, damp and dirty.

She was home!

Only the need to keep from drawing attention to herself and Evan kept her from twirling about in a merry dance on the grass in the square. Mayhap he had been honest about the tale of Château Tonnere du Grêlon, but that could never be home as London was. She loved every filthy, exciting corner of this city.

Hearing a hushed chuckle as he drew her around to the back of the house, she glanced at Evan. He was smiling broadly, the first time she had seen anything but a scowl on his face since they left the Caparellis.

“You are as glad to be back here as I am!” She kept her voice low.

“Why not? By now, the Season should be keeping the
ton
busy with all their calls and their entertainments. I can think of no better place to make myself scarce than in the midst of all that madness.”

“Are you planning to attend the assemblies and teas?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I shall have to see what invitations await me before I decide.” With another laugh, he said, “You are looking at me as if you believe me. Why do you always take me at my word when I am hoaxing you?”

“It is so hard to tell the difference.”

“Mayhap you should just assume that whenever you accept my story, it is a joke. Whenever you do not, it is the truth.”

“I would be want-witted to do that.”

He chuckled as he led her to the back door. Opening it, he peeked in. “No one is about, so let's go.”

“Why are we sneaking in?”

“Because it is fun.” He laughed again and tugged on her hand, pulling her into the laundry.

Brienne smiled. The more treacherous their circumstances became, the more Evan joked. She suspected he would even find something amusing about the hangman putting a noose around his neck.

“No, not that way,” he said when she turned to the left. “That leads down into the cellars, and Porter warned me when I first came here that they are pretty disgusting, a place you would not want to visit.”

Although she wanted to remind him how many disgusting places she had been in since he burst into her life, she nodded. He put his arm around her waist to steer her through the maze of sheets hung from lines in the laundry room.

When she pushed away a cloying sheet, he chuckled softly and whispered, “I knew tonight I would be grateful for Porter's fastidious order that the bed linens be changed daily whether he was here or not. I had not guessed how easy that dictate makes slipping in and out of the house.”

She followed him in silence. She hoped he was right about coming back to London. At least, now she could get verification of his story from Grand-mère, and then.… She was not sure what she would do next.

Nothing had changed on the main floor of the house. She was not sure why she expected that it had. Mayhap because she had been changed so much.

Hitchcock whirled as he heard their footsteps. The butler's face washed out to gray, then reddened to an unhealthy shade. “I did not see … How did you …” He squared his shoulders, his normal scowl returning. “Good afternoon, sir, miss.”

“Good afternoon, Hitchcock. 'Tis a pleasure to see your welcoming face, as always,” Evan said, not a hint of amusement in his voice. “Will you let Madame LeClerc know we have returned?”

“Right away, sir.” His nose wrinkled. “May I ring for a bath for you and Miss LeClerc?”

“You may, although I believe Miss LeClerc would prefer to have hers in her room while I have mine in mine.”

The butler's face became ruddy again as he turned to follow the orders.

Brienne waited until he was out of earshot before she laughed. “You should not taunt him like that.”

“Give me one reason why not. His officious airs are the one bad thing about using Porter's house.”

“Because,” she said, curving her hand around his nape, “you lied to him when you said I would prefer my bath in my room and yours in yours.”