The Worldly Widow (53 page)

Her steps slowed, and she scanned the stalls and shop facades for numbers, but in that dim light she could see very little. And then she saw it. A jeweler
'
s shop window, and the entrance beside it. She took one step toward it, but at that moment her attention was caught by a press of people who pushed out of one of the
courtyard cafes on her right. S
natches of conversation in German, French, and English carried to her ears, but one voice riveted her to the spot. Like a stag at bay, she lifted her head and turned to confront the danger which threatened.
It
'
s only a figment of your imagination, my girl,
she scolded. But even as that thought occurred to her, he stepped beneath the halo of an overhead lantern. It was Dalmar.

His face was set and forbidding; his cheekbones seemed to be gouged out of granite. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but she saw a remorseless twist to his mouth, a merciless glitter in those eyes of stone. She had once likened him to a pirate or a brigand. She thought, then, that he might easily be taken for an executioner.

Thoughts chased themselves in her head in dizzying confusion. She did not know why he had come to Paris, or why, of all places, he should be in the Palais Royal. She sensed a terrible danger stalking her. It might be irrational, but it was as real to her as the reticule she clutched in her hand. She panicked, and like any trapped animal, she looked for a way of escape.

With a small cry, she whirled about and elbowed her way frantically through the crush of people. Her one thought was to return to her friends and the safety of the galleries.

"Annabelle!
"

He had seen her. His hoarse cry of command at her back intensified her efforts to evade him. At one point she went sprawling, and her reticule rolled out of her hand. That this was the work of pickpockets was never in question, but Annabelle could not let that deflect her from her purpose. She saw a hand snatch the reticule from the ground. She let it go without a protest, and pulling herself to her feet, pushed on.

She burst through the entrance to the backstairs and screamed when strong masculine arms enfolded her.

"Annabelle, what
'
s wrong?
"

With fists flying, she pounded against her captor
'
s broad chest. She was shaken roughly.

"Annabelle! Stop it! D
'
you hear? Stop it!
"

"Oh God, Gerry, is it you?
"

Lord Temple
'
s eyes anxiously scanned her white face. "Annabelle, what is it?
"

"Dalmar!
"
she choked out. "Oh, please, Gerry, just get me away from here before he finds me.
"

He didn
'
t argue with her. He simply grasped her by the elbow and half dragged her along. "In here,
"
he said, and pushed her into a cupboard under the stairs. He stepped in behind her and pulled the door shut.

"Annabelle!
"

She pressed closer to Temple. Dalmar
'
s cry was very close at hand. Behind that one word, she sensed the terrifying force of his rage and frustration.

"David, is that you? What the hell are you doing in Paris?
"

Annabelle recognized John Falconer
'
s voice.

"Never mind that now!
"
Dalmar shouted up the well of the staircase. "Is Annabelle up there with you? Did she come this way?
"

"No,
"
shouted Falconer. "She seems to have given us the slip. But don
'
t worry. Temple is looking for her.
"

"Damn!
"
muttered the Earl under his breath. "Hang
on, I
'
m coming up.
"

Annabelle heard his footsteps as he took the stairs two at a time.

"He
'
s gone,
"
said Temple. "Now let
'
s get you away from here.
"

"
Y
ou
'
re quite safe here.
"

"I
…
I didn
'
t know you had rooms in the Palais Royal, Gerry.
"

"Didn
'
t you? Here, let me take your wraps. Now sit down and I
'
ll get you something to steady your nerves.
"

Déjà
vu, thought Annabelle and crossed her arms to control her trembling. She accepted the glass of brandy Temple proffered and sipped slowly. For some reason, she wanted to delay the interrogation she knew must come. For something to say, she said, "It must be very expensive keeping up two sets of rooms. And you can
'
t be in Paris that often, surely?
"

He studied her over the rim of his glass. "Curiosity killed the cat,
"
he said, and smiled the oddest smile.

Annabelle felt a shiver of something she could not name and withdrew her gaze.

His voice laced with amusement, he said, "If you must know, Annabelle, like many gentlemen, when I
'
m in Paris, I always arrange to have rooms at my disposal in the Palais Royal. I
'
m a single man. And it
'
s convenient. Does that answer your question?
"

"Oh,
"
was all that she could think to say. She began to cast around in her mind for a safe topic of conversation when she heard the key turn in the vestibule. The color washed out of her face.

"It
'
s only my man,
"
said Temple reassuringly. He pulled himself awkwardly to his feet. "I
'
ll send him to fetch a
hackney, and when the coast is clear, I
'
ll get you out of here Now drink up your brandy like a good girl.
"

He was out of the room for only a moment or two. Annabelle set down her glass and took stock of her surroundings. Temple
'
s rooms were very similar to the ones Dalmar had taken her to on the night of the riot. But this time it was not the Earl who was her champion. She felt the loss more keenly than she would have wished. Suddenly she felt bone weary and passed a hand over her eyes.

When Temple returned, she saw that he was limping. "I shouldn
'
t have involved you,
"
she said. "
You
'
re not fit for this kind of excitement.
"

She could see at once that her words had angered him. He lowered himself carefully onto a straight-backed chair.

"My dear Annabelle,
"
he drawled, "don
'
t let this collection of old bones gammon you. I assure you, I
'
m well able to take care of myself.
"

"I
'
m sorry. I didn
'
t mean anything by it. It
'
s only that Dalmar…
"
When he sliced the air impatiently with one hand, Annabelle
'
s words died altogether.

"D
'
you think that I
'
m not a match for Dalmar?
"
He snorted derisively. "It doesn
'
t take brawn to fell an adversary. Only brains.
"
His voice moderated. "But time grows short. Let
'
s leave that for the moment, shall we? I want to know why Dalmar is here, and why you are afraid of him.
"

She didn
'
t like the way his eyes narrowed on her. She didn
'
t like the hard edge in his voice. For a moment she thought of telling him to mind his own business. But instinct warned her that he was not in the mood to suffer a show of feminine rebellion. Moreover, she was conscious that she owed him some sort of explanation for her near-hysterical behavior.

"I don
'
t know why Dalmar is here,
"
she said.

"I had it from Falconer that the Earl was fixed in London.
"

"So I understood.
"

"Well
something
must have made him change his mind.
"

"Apparently.
"
She saw his lips compress and quickly elaborated. "No, really, Gerry, I haven
'
t a clue why he is here. And I
'
m certainly no longer in Dalmar
'
s confidence.
"

"Then tell me why you are afraid of him.
"

"It would take eons to explain my antipathy to the man,
"
she parried. "Can
'
t we just leave it at that? Please, take me back to the hotel. Truly, I
'
m not feeling well.
"
And that last was no evasion, she thought. Her head was swimming unpleasantly.

"All in good time,
"
he answered. "But until our hackney arrives, indulge me a little by answering a few questions.
"

"Oh, very well,
"
she said, not very graciously.

"You told me that you had committed only half the girl
'
s diaries to paper?
"
For a moment she could not think what he was getting at. "Annabelle, how far did you get with the girl
'
s diaries?
"
he said in a voice which shocked her out of her lethargy.

"Not very far,
"
she admitted at once. "As I told you, there was not the time to put down as much as half.
"

"So, he knows nothing of Brussels as yet?
"

To Annabelle
'
s ears the conversation had taken a nightmarish turn. Just out of reach, in some dim recess of her mind, was the key to
a puzzle which had begun to
tease her.

Frowning in concentration, she said, "Why do you say that he knows nothing of Brussels?
"

In tones of strained patience, he replied, "It stands to reason. The diaries begin in Vienna. You mentioned it in passing some time since.
"

"Did I?
"
she murmured. She knew that she had not. At all events, she did not wish to embark on a long and involved explanation of her reasons for passing over Vienna in favor of Brussels. Even to herself, she could not defend the vulgar curiosity which had tempted her to that course.

"Brussels has nothing to do with anything,
"
she said, and frowned at her slur
red speech. "If you ask me…
"
She did not know what was wrong with her tongue.

"Yes?
"
he prompted.

"What? Oh! I
'
ll warrant he
'
s here to get to Monique Dupres before I do.
"
The more she thought of it, the more merit the notion gained.

"That
'
s impossible,
"
he said.

"I don
'
t see why! He doesn
'
t know that I have the diaries committed to memory. It wouldn
'
t surprise me one whit if he
thinks I
'
m here to renegotiate their purchase. He
'
s going to try and buy her off, that
'
s what!
"
Her bosom heaved with indignation at the very thought.

"He
'
s not here to see Monique Dupres.
"

Like a quarrelsome child, she turned on him. "Why do you persist in saying so?
"

Deadly quiet, he answered, "Because the girl was murdered.
"

Silence, dark and turbulent, filled the room.

"Do you know what I think?
"
asked Temple softly.

Her mouth strangely dry, Annabelle could only shake her head.

"What I think,
"
said the Viscount, "is that Dalmar believes that you are in some sort of danger.
"