Miss Lavigne's Little White Lie (2 page)

He cocked a brow. “This isn’t your attempt at proposing marriage, I hope.”

“You mock me.” She crawled toward the edge of the bed.

“Wait.” Grasping her around the waist, he pulled her back.

Paulina had been an accommodating mistress these last two years. He supposed he could fulfill one of her wishes, if they could get on with other matters.

“Tell me what you really want, my dear, and dispatch with the theatrics.”

She turned in his embrace, victory shining in the depths of her brown eyes. “There is a house I fancy. I wish you to purchase it in my name.”

“A house?”

He glanced around the exquisite boudoir with the Turkish carpet, gilded mirrors, and silk curtains, all gifts he had given her. Not to mention that horrendous ruby amulet she draped around her neck, the fruits of her last sulk. It was a wonder she didn’t walk hunched over from the weight.

When he had offered his protection, her home had required an extensive remodeling. He could ascertain no good reason to fund a different residence. “There’s nothing wrong with this one.”

She scooted to the far edge of the bed out of his reach and crossed her arms. “It is too small. In fact, the lack of space troubles me to the point where I fear I cannot perform my duties this evening.” She tossed a sultry look over her shoulder. “A simple promise from you, however, would ease my mind.”

Her petulant behavior was growing tiresome. Too tiresome. They had been through similar pouts when he’d last visited.

“Very well,” he conceded, “then we shall consider our affair settled.”

Paulina’s eyes widened. “Pardon? Settled in what way?”

He climbed from the bed and fastened his trousers, no longer interested in satisfying his lust with her. “My man of business will complete the transaction.” He shrugged on his waistcoat before grabbing his boots and jacket. “Consider the house your severance. Your services are no longer required.”

Paulina gaped, frozen to the spot on the bed. “But, Daniel. You cannot—oh, Daniel, don’t, please.” She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands.

He stood there in awkward silence while she sobbed.
Devil
take
it.
What was he to do now? After all, she might genuinely hold a
tendre
for him.

Daniel took a step forward, prepared to offer a retraction, but Paulina chose that moment to peek at him.

Her dry eyes sent a flood of indignation rattling through his veins. Was there a bloody woman alive who didn’t use tears to advance her agenda?

“Do give my best to Anderson and Molyneux.” Plopping his hat on his head, he spun on his heel and stalked from the premises with no intentions of ever looking back.

Two

Lisette, Rafe, and Serafine reached the safety of the rented room above the tavern mere moments before a sharp rap sounded at the door. Lisette’s heart jumped into her throat. Ruffians wouldn’t bother knocking, would they?

There was another soft rap. “Mademoiselle, I have the
blanket
ye requested. Ye must take it now.”

The feminine voice eased Lisette’s fears only slightly. She looked toward Serafine as her cousin tucked Rafe into bed. He turned on his side and curled into a ball.

“One moment.” Lisette searched the sparse room for a makeshift weapon. Snatching up the fire poker propped against the hearth, she returned to the door. “A blanket, you say?”

“Aye, madame. The one ye
requested
.”

Whatever was she talking about? It was the middle of summer. No one in her right mind asked for blankets in this suffocating heat.

“You must be mistaken.” She raised the iron bar overhead, prepared to defend her family if this was a ruse, and jerked the door open.

“Lord have mercy!” The tavern wench dropped the blanket and clutched her chest.

Lisette shoved her aside and looked both ways down the corridor with the poker at the ready. There were no hulking figures lurking in the shadows as she had feared. No threats of any kind.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Stepping back into the room, Lisette lowered the poker and grasped the young woman’s arm before she could gather her wits to flee. She held out the implement with a bashful lift of her shoulders. “Perhaps you know how to build a fire?”

The young woman shrank back, refusing to take the poker. “It’s the middle of summer, ma’am.”

Now she wanted to take issue with the season. “Of course, you’re right. What am I thinking?” Lisette pretended to knock some sense into her head. It was better to have the wench think her dotty than dangerous. “Please, come inside.”

The woman narrowed her eyes and sidestepped into the room rather than turning her back. “Ye wanted to know when Captain Hillary was back. He’s below stairs, but I can’t promise how long he’ll be there.”

Lisette glanced down at her mourning attire. She had wished to change before their meeting. Well, there was no help for it. She couldn’t afford to miss him or their departure on the morrow. Monsieur Baptiste met with the captain earlier and negotiated their fare, but Lisette had received no details from the meeting. With Reynaud’s men guarding her and her family, Monsieur Baptiste must have determined the risk was too high to send a messenger.

Lisette followed the young woman into the corridor. At the landing, she pressed a coin into the wench’s palm, reconsidered her rash behavior in the room, and offered her two more. “For your excellent service, mademoiselle.”

The woman smiled. “Thank ye, ma’am.”

It was the least Lisette could do. Employment might be in her future if they were unable to locate Serafine’s brother in England. But she would work herself into an early grave if need be. Rafe would never be at Reynaud’s mercy as long as she was still breathing.

“You must accompany me below and point out the captain,” Lisette said.

The wench led her down the staircase. “He ain’t easy to mistake, ma’am. He’s the most handsome of the lot.”

At the bottom of the staircase, Lisette retreated to the dim edges of the room and scanned the crowded tavern in bemusement. She and the tavern wench apparently had different definitions of handsome, for Lisette would never categorize any of the filthy patrons as pleasing to the eye.

A movement from the corner of the room caught her attention, and she turned just as a striking man pushed through the assembly of riffraff, parting the crowd like Moses parted the Red Sea. His wild, dark hair stuck up at angles, and his sculpted jaw boasted a deep flush.

The wench nudged Lisette. “There he is, ma’am.”

“Oh,” she said on a wisp of breath.

“I best be gettin’ back to my duties.” The woman slipped away before Lisette could respond.

Captain Hillary swaggered across the taproom, headed for the stairwell. His languid movements reminded her of a feral cat on the prowl, an ill-tempered beast, if she read him correctly. His shirt gapped at the collar to reveal corded muscles for the entire room to view.

Mon
dieu!
Lowering her gaze to the sawdust-covered floor, she swallowed hard. It would be difficult to sit through an audience with the captain without gawking. Yet Captain Hillary and the
Cecily
presented her family’s best chance for survival. She must determine their time of departure, and stammering like a school girl wouldn’t help.

Determined to conclude their business quickly before anyone took notice of her, she strode forward to intercept him. “Captain Hillary.”

His eyebrows shot upward as his gaze traveled over her body. “Have we been introduced, luv?”

There was no time to practice proper etiquette—if there even were such codes in a hovel like The Abyss—nor was there anyone present to perform the task of making an introduction.

“I am Lisette Lavigne.” She suppressed a wince. She’d meant to use a false name, but a quick look around reassured her no one was eavesdropping. “You met my representative yesterday, Monsieur Baptiste. May I speak with you a moment?”

A fierce gleam in the captain’s eyes prompted her to step back. “I’m retiring to my room, madame. Would you care to accompany me?”

“Your room?” Perhaps she had been too hasty to approach the captain alone. “Couldn’t we conduct our business at a table, monsieur?”

“Do we
have
business to discuss?” Despite his acerbic tone, he sauntered to a vacant table and sprawled onto a rustic chair. He swept an arm to the place across from him. “Sit. I haven’t much time to indulge you.”

She slid into the seat opposite him. “
Merci
, Captain. Monsieur Baptiste spoke with you yesterday about carrying my family and me to England. Unfortunately, circumstances prevented him from relaying the details of the arrangements he made on our behalf. What is the fare you agreed upon? And I must know when you expect us to board.”

“I don’t.”

Lisette blinked, not comprehending his reply although she spoke fluent English. “Pardon? You don’t what, exactly?”

“I don’t expect you to board. I’ve refused passage to you and your family.”

“Refused us? But why? We have the funds to pay you.” She touched the coin purse in her pocket. Money always opened doors. “I’m willing to pay handsomely.” She plunked the pouch of coins on the table between them.

“Good God, woman. Put that away before someone liberates it from you.”

“But—”

“Now!” He shoved the purse back at her with a scowl.

Lisette snatched the heavy bag and tucked it back into her skirts. Her hand fluttered to her chest before she folded both in her lap. Captain Hillary’s brusque manner was unexpected, but she couldn’t allow him to see her flustered. Dealing with men of his caliber required a tough veneer.

“Very well, Captain. I believe I made my point. I have the means to pay, and there will be a bonus when you deliver us safely to London.” The addition of a bonus was rather inspired, in her opinion.

Captain Hillary leaned back, balancing the chair on two legs. His eyes looked black in the flickering light. The eyes of a devil. “As I mentioned to your man yesterday, madame, no women sail on the
Cecily
.”

Lisette uttered a small cry of outrage despite her intention to remain calm. “That is ludicrous, monsieur. A lady’s money is as good as any man’s.”

“I have no need for additional funds.”

Of course he needed money. He was simply holding out for more. “
Merde
,” she mumbled.

“Pardon?” A touch of amusement lingered in his rich voice.

She met his gaze, heat inching up her face with her rising temper. “Do not pretend you care nothing for money. What percentage does the owner allow you?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“I am aware of how this business operates, monsieur. You assume the risk, yet walk away with a pittance. The fruits of
your
”—she jabbed her finger against the table—“labor line the pockets of the greedy owner.”

“Indeed? Well, the greedy bugger who owns the
Cecily
might be offended by having his character maligned.”

She waved a hand in the air. “I shan’t likely make his acquaintance.”

The front legs of Captain Hillary’s chair banged against the floor. “Well, madame. I wish you luck in securing passage on another ship. The
Cecily
doesn’t carry women passengers.”

He pushed away from the table; freedom was slipping through her fingers.

“Please, sir.” She grasped his forearm. “Name your price. I’ll give you anything.”

He pulled from her hold and sank back into his seat, smirking. “Anything? Take care what you promise.”

“I can afford any price you propose.”

Resting his forearms on the table, he raked his gaze from her head to her waist and back again. “Madame, are you a widow?”

She started in response to his unexpected inquiry. Her mourning attire could be misleading. Did the captain concern himself with procuring her husband’s permission to travel? Lisette hesitated only a second before nodding.

“You’re no innocent then,” he said.

“By the saints! The nature of my, my past is none of
your
concern.”

He shrugged as he settled against the seat back. “Neither is your dilemma my concern. How splendid we should go about our evenings, neither of us concerned for the other.”

This was going horribly wrong, and she had little left at her disposal. Lifting her chin, she nailed him with the evil eye as Grandmamma had been wont to do. No field hand, house servant, nor tradesman had dared to defy Grandmamma when she unleashed the evil eye.

Captain Hillary chuckled. “Is everything all right, madame? Are you suffering from apoplexy?”