A Daughter's Destiny (34 page)

“Lagrille. LaPorte. Porter. All so close to the same word in English.” He swore. “How have I been so blind?”

Lord Sommerton said quietly, “It is said that love is blind. Mayhap it is blinding as well.”

As Evan stepped aside to let the maid put another set of cups on the tray where the chocolate pot waited, he did not answer. His father might be more correct than Evan wished to admit. Lost in his delight with Brienne, he had failed to see the facts in front of him.

His father began, “Miss LeClerc—”

“Miss Levesque,” Evan said quietly.

“'Tis LaPorte now.” Her hands shook as she sat where his father had indicated. “Madame LaPorte.”

Lord Sommerton cursed, then said, “Forgive me, Miss—Mrs. LaPorte.”

“Brienne would be easier, if you do not mind the informality.” Brienne was glad when Evan sat beside her. She did not care what the earl thought when she wove her fingers through Evan's. That Evan had not reacted to her comments warned her that he already knew of the marriage. Nothing remained unknown among the
ton
for long. “Evan, we have to get Grand-mère away from that horrible man.”

“He said he had her?” Evan's face was drawn, and she guessed he had not slept since leaving the house.

“Yes.”

“Did he give you any hint where?” asked the earl.

She took the cup he handed her, but did not raise it to her lips. “I suspect she is still within the house. That would explain why no one on the square saw anything unusual.”

“And the servants could be easily controlled so they would be where Porter—LaPorte wanted them to be.” Evan stood and paced from the settee to the hearth and back. “That means we must go back there and find her.”

Brienne nodded, although her stomach roiled with fear. “Yes. I thought that would be our only choice. It has to be quickly, or he might hurt my grandmother.” She caught Evan's hand as he passed by her. When he looked down at her, she whispered, “He wants the vase.”

“To prove you are the
duc's
daughter?”

“Yes,” she said again, not surprised that Evan understood immediately. “Do you have it?”

“In a very safe place.” He smiled tightly. “Don't ask, honey. That is information I would like to keep to myself for the moment.” Sitting beside her again, he added, “
This
is the reason I called on you, Father. I know you have nearly as many connections in the government as I do at the docks.”

The earl sighed. “None of which will be of any use in this matter. With the blockade around England and fear of an invasion, no one is going to risk anything that might focus Napoleon's government's wrath on us. This LaPorte must have allies in that government if he is so bold.”

“Then, we shall have to handle it ourselves.”

“Son, I believe it would make the most sense if you and I were to pay a call on your erstwhile host.”

“No!” Brienne cried. “I shall not be left behind again. After what happened this time, I cannot risk that.”

Father and son exchanged a look she could not decipher. Then, Evan asked, “How did you slip out of the house, honey?”

“Through the laundry and out the back gate. Just the opposite of how we slipped in.”

“Past the cellar door?”

“You think he has imprisoned Grand-mère in the cellar? That place has a malodorous reek coming from it.” She fisted her hands in her lap. “That bastard is no better than his father.”

Evan's brow threaded. “His father is part of this, too?”

“Not now. His father is dead, but before he died, he arranged for my father's death in hopes of claiming my family's estate.” She shivered. “Like father, like son.”

When the earl laughed, Brienne regarded him with amazement. She was not sure what she had said that was humorous.

Lord Sommerton came to his feet. “I would like to disagree with that, but it appears that you may be right. Certainly my son is as stubborn as I am. Evan, I believe you and Miss—Brienne have matters to discuss. Be assured that I am willing to help in any way I may to rescue her grandmother from this ignoble Frenchman's schemes which have the stench of froggish greed.” He gulped. “Excuse me, Brienne. I did not mean to disparage all French people with my comment.”

“No need to apologize, my lord. I quite agree with you.” She was amazed she could smile. “Although I may have been born along the Loire, I am, as my mother lamented so often, very much an Englishwoman.”

The earl walked to the door, then turned back to them. “Son, I never thought I would say this, but I am proud of you.”

“You are?” Evan asked.

Brienne elbowed him. “Where are your manners, Evan? Say thank you.”

“Allow the lad a chance to be surprised.” Lord Sommerton's smile vanished as he added, “I was wrong to act as I did at Lady Jacington's assembly. Even though you apparently have not changed since you left Sommerton Hall, I, too, know how to make queries about Town, and I have learned that you have gained respect as a man who values his word and his friendships. I suppose I should ask no more of my son than that.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Let me know when you are ready to make that call on LaPorte.” He rubbed his hands together. “This should be most amusing.”

Evan was silent until the door closed behind his father, then he chuckled. “That is what I like best about him. His hypocrisy!”

“What a thing to say!”

“'Tis the truth, and he would be the first to admit to it. He will never forgive me for leaving Sommerton Hall because he and my mother tried to mold me into the perfect heir, never saying or doing something that was not proper.” He arched a brow. “You can guess how impossible that was for me.”

“Completely.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, longing for the rapture that would make her forget even this horror.

“Now listen to him. He is ready to gird his loins and do battle with LaPorte.”

“A most chivalrous thing to do.”

He laughed again. “Mayhap you are right. Mayhap he has changed as little as I have. Brienne?”

“Yes?”

When he took her by the shoulders and drew her back so he could see her face, he started to speak more than once. He cleared his throat, but said hoarsely, “Brienne, I have to ask you. You need not answer, but I must know.”

“No, he did not consummate our marriage.” She put her hands up to his cheeks. “I was senseless until this morning, and then, when he tried, I left
him
senseless. I broke one of his precious figurines over his head.” She laughed, halting herself when she heard its hysterical tinge. “What am I going to do?”

“Do not fret about your marriage now. Now we must get your grandmother away from him. Then we will deal with other issues.”

Although she wanted to counter that her marriage was not just an “issue,” she nodded. Grand-mère's well-being was more important than anything else. “So what do you have planned?”

“Right now? Kissing you.”

He enfolded her in his arms as his mouth slanted across hers. The craving that only grew stronger each time he touched her detonated within her, shattering her worries as she savored his tongue sliding along hers. It took all her willpower to pull back when she wanted to remain in his arms. She must think of Grand-mère.

“Evan, be serious!”

“I was.” He brushed her lips with his. “It seems as if it has been a century since I last was able to do this.”

“I know,” she whispered. She drew back again and squared her shoulders. “Evan, what do you have planned?”

He stroked her back as he murmured, “Honey, we both know that LaPorte will not let you or your grandmother go while he believes he can use you to claim Château Tonnere du Grêlon.”

“I know.”

“So we shall have to persuade him otherwise.”

“How?”

“With the help of my father and a friend or two.”

“Evan!”

He chuckled at her frustration with his elusive answers. “You are going to have to trust me on this, honey. I know how difficult that is for you.”

“No, it is not so difficult.” She stroked his cheek. “I find that easy to do now.”

“As I find it easier to say this.” He balanced her chin on his crooked finger. “I love you, Brienne. I want you to know that I would marry you today if I could.”

Her eyes widened. “Marry me? I thought you had no use for a family.”

“I did say something to that effect, didn't I? You are going to make me admit that you are right, and I was mistaken.”

“Yes, but I do not understand why you have changed your mind.”

“A man changes when he is shown how empty his life is without the woman he loves.” He combed his fingers through her hair. “My love, my Brienne, will you marry me as soon as you can?”

“Yes.”

As he kissed her and pulled her into his arms, she answered his eager passion with her own. She did not want to think that this one perfect moment might be the last one they would know.

Chapter Twenty-one

Brienne stood on the corner of a street that led to Grosvenor Square. If she had looked past the building beside her, she would be able to see the square and LaPorte's townhouse. On the street in front of her, a dark carriage with bright red trim was stopped. Evan was giving last minute instructions to his father. So much depended on Lord Sommerton persuading LaPorte that he was calling on a matter that had nothing to do with his son or Brienne and her grandmother.

Evan stepped up onto the walkway as the coachman slapped the reins to send the carriage around the corner. He adjusted his simple coat that would be suitable for a delivery lad or a lower servant. “This will work, honey.”

“I hope so.”

“My father can talk longer about nothing than anyone I know. He will fill LaPorte's head with so many governmental figures that you will find yourself feeling sorry for LaPorte.”

“That is unlikely.”

He ran his finger along her lips. “Smile, honey. Just to keep yourself in practice for when we find your grandmother.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

“Something I learned to have years ago. If I refuse to admit that I might fail, it is amazing how many times I don't.” He hesitated, glancing around the corner, then said, “If you want to switch tasks, I will be glad to.”

Brienne shook her head. “Even though it smells, I would rather go down into the cellars than up to the attics. There is less chance I will encounter someone.”

“Watch for my signal.”

“I will.”

He drew her into his arms and kissed her deeply. Brushing her hair back toward her cap that would make her look like one of the household maids, he whispered, “Just stay away from LaPorte.”

“I will,” she repeated with a shiver. “You, too.”

“That is a promise.” Reaching under his coat, he pulled out a knife in a sheath. “Just in case, honey.”

Although she did not want to take it, she did and hid it beneath her apron. A threat with this might give her grandmother time to escape. “Thank you.”

“Thank me when you and your grandmother are safe. I can think of some special ways I would enjoy letting you thank me, Brienne.” He tapped her on the nose, then loped along the street.

Brienne waited and counted slowly to fifty. That would give both Evan and his father a head start. This plan seemed too simple to succeed. If LaPorte refused to receive the earl.… If she or Evan chanced to run into someone who recognized them.… If Grand-mère was not in the house.…

No, she would not think of failure. She must be as brazen as Evan and assume that everything would work out just as they had hoped.

Walking another street beyond the square, she turned to come along the walkway behind LaPorte's townhouse. She edged toward the back gate. When she had fled from here this morning, she had not guessed she would be returning so soon.

Brienne smiled when she saw the sheets were still hanging on the lines strung across the laundry yard. Picking up a wicker basket, she walked among the lines. She bent to touch a sheet as if to test if it was dry when another maid walked past on the other side of a line.

Her breath burned in her chest, but she did not dare release it as she entered the laundry room. More laundry hung from lines. Keeping her basket in front of her, she peered into one of the vats of hot water if someone came too close. Steam hung in the air. It would help conceal her face.

Edging along the wall, she reached the cellar door. Her nose wrinkled as she smelled the damp that seeped around it. She hoped she would find Grand-mère down there, but just thinking of LaPorte imprisoning her grandmother in such a horrible place added to her rage. She forced it away. She must not let her anger blind her to danger.

No one turned as she opened the door and slipped through. She drew it shut behind her, glad there was not a bolt on the outside. Waiting on the top stair, she gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. There was a hint of light, and she suspected there must be a small window that opened to the gardens. The windows that looked out on the square would open into rooms that were not connected with this section of the cellars, Evan had told her. She wondered if he had explored those rooms or if he was just guessing.

Brienne edged down the stairs. The room was empty, save for puddles between the stones on the floor. A darker abyss gaped to her right. Stretching out her toe, she discovered a deep hole that might be some sort of well. The stench that came from it made her retch.

Turning, she looked at the opposite wall. She slid her feet along the floor, wanting to make sure she did not step into another hole. She glanced under the stairs, but saw nothing. That was no comfort because the shadows concealed most of the area.

Brienne smiled when she saw a door with a bolt on it. This must be it! Who else would LaPorte be hiding? She pushed it open. Light came from a narrow window high up in the wall to show that the room was empty. A narrow cot and a pail warned that the chamber was meant as a prison.