Page 27 of A Noble Affair
“Hmph.”
“The evil in it,” Paltier continued, “is that the late viscount was blamed for insurance fraud, and I know the shock of it caused his death.”
“How could they blame him when the signs pointed to the missing gardeners?”
“Because he had the misfortune to adjust the value on the Manet to a higher amount a week before the theft.”
Gaston turned in surprise. “If it were him, he would have to be an idiot to do something so stupid. Anyone can see that.”
“That’s why the charges were cleared—that and the missing gardeners. There was no proof. But I have a feeling the late viscount made a few enemies when he bought the château and the racetrack, and these enemies encouraged the investigation. He was cleared, but the damage was done, and his fatal stroke occurred less than a year later.”
“The art was never found, hm?”
“No, and I have to say I’m surprised the young viscount agreed to hold another ball after the pain the family went through. I’m sure he felt my disapproval, much though I try to conceal whatever I’m feeling on the issue.” Paltier sniffed.
Gaston chuckled in reply. He knew his brother was able to communicate exactly what he thought with just a look. “Ah well,” he said. “It’s just as well he’s bringing some life back to that castle again. Mind that there are guards in every part of the château this time.”
“Never you fear,” Paltier replied with determination.
Chastity and Thomaspicked their way through the clumps of melting snow on the sidewalk. The snow that had started during themarché de noëlcontinued intermittently throughout Christmas then remained frozen and cold past the New Year. Now the winter sun caused the edges to soften, then liquefy. Soon there would be sparse traces of white on muddy grass bordering the sidewalk, and then none at all.
“Can I have a croissant?” Thomas jumped over clumps of brown snow when a simple step would have sufficed.
“No, honey. We’re just going to get some baguettes. I’ll give you a small piece, but I don’t want you to ruin your appetite since we’re going to be eating lunch soon.”
Thomas absorbed the news diplomatically. He continued hopping even when there was no snow, his boots making tiny splashes in the mud. “Mom, do you love my father?”
Chastity was startled because he asked her the very question she was wrestling with at that moment. “Ah.” She gave a tiny laugh, but her smile vanished quickly. “I don’t know, sweetie. I like him. I love you.” She emphasized the word. “Would that make you glad, or…feel bad if I loved him?”
“Glad, I guess.” Hop. Hop.
“We have all the time in the world to see about that, my baby.” She smiled at him. They were approaching the corner where they would turn and walk down the busy street towards theboulangerie.
“Here, kitty, kitty.” Thomas coaxed a starved-looking cat that was sitting at the crosswalk. When the cat did not come, he gave up and changed the subject. “Mom, if I thought a kid was in trouble—”
“Hold on, sweetie.” Chastity dug in her bag for the phone, which had started to ring. She pulled it out and looked up as she went to press the talk button. Suddenly she gasped.
“Tommy, NO!” She couldn’t stop him. She was just in time to see the cat dart into traffic and her son leap after him. The next was all a blur. His small body was tossed to the side of the road as a blue car screeched to a halt.
“Madame, Madame, je l’ai pas vu.” A woman stumbled out of her car, crying.
Chastity was already kneeling on the pavement, next to the parked cars, traffic piling up beside her. Her voice was caught in her throat as she looked at her pale, prostrate son. Trembling violently, she tried to scream, but it was stuck in her ribs. “No,” she whispered.
13
The ambulance screeched to a halt in front ofCHI Poissy hospital. The driver leaped down and opened the back door while the attendant inside unsecured the gurney and pushed the end forward so it could be carried down. Chastity jumped down from the ambulance and promptly fell to the pavement. She had no strength in her knees, and it was only by sheer will that she got up again and ran after them.
The first responders pushed the gurney between them, shoving the swinging doors open with a bang as they brought their charge through. A triage nurse met them.
“Seven-year-old boy with a severe concussion. He’s unconscious.”
“What happened?”
“He was hit by a car.”
“Get Docteur Bellamy in here,” the triage nurse yelled to an aide that was stationed nearby. She began cutting off Thomas’s clothes as the team rushed in to draw blood and prep him for scanning. The neurologist was not long in appearing.
“What do we have here?” The details were repeated to himas the triage nurse inserted an IV. Another nurse placed the monitors on the boy’s chest and forehead. After a brief glance at hisvitals, the doctor said. “CT his head. Now.”
