Page 23 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

The other man, who was shorter and broader in stature, shook his head. “What? And then kill her? We might as well put a notice in The Times. Patience, Fraughton!”

“How can I be patient when you came back empty handed from Paris, Descrier? Lavalette has hidden it somewhere. It was his intention to blackmail us before he was thrown into prison, but he may well still intend to do so.” There was a note of anguish in Fraughton’s voice.

“Lavalette will soon face the guillotine. It changes the game, does it not? We shall have more time to find this Journal Noir at our leisure. And with luck on our side, it will never be found.”

“There is an appeal to save him,” Fraughton said.

“Lavalette was in service to Napoleon,” Descrier said edgily. “He took over the Post Office for the General at the beginning of the Hundred Days, when Louis XVIII had already left Paris. Despite a popular campaign to free Marshall Ney and others, they were executed. Lavalette doesn’t have a chance.”

“Will the others agree with you?”

“Robert Marston is impatient,” Descrier said. “He lost a great deal of money this year at the gaming tables. The fact our market has grown considerably smaller has made him skittish. He is already planning to find a wealthy widow to marry.”

“I’m afraid Marston’s reputation precedes him. And there are not a lot of gullible, wealthy widows about,” Descrier said dryly. He gave a heavy sigh. “It’s a blow for all of us. What about Elford?”

“Distracted. His new bride is demanding. Elford doubts the journal will ever see the light of day, and if it does, it would be difficult to prove it is genuine.”

“I believe it is written in Napoleon’s hand,” Fraughton said sharply.

“Hell and damnation,” Descrier muttered. “Unfortunate. But still I think it wise to be patient. Lavalette could die within a matter of days. We shall decide what next to do at the meeting.”

“Pierse is about to go to France and will visit the comtesse. He has ways of gaining information.”

“He’s a hot head and might kill her,” Descrier snarled. “You must caution him against any rash action. It will stir up no end of trouble for us. And with no guarantee of success, for the woman may know nothing.”

“As you have nothing better to offer, I shall do what I see fit,” Fraughton growled.

They emerged from the gazebo and began to cross the lawn to the house. Brandon stepped farther into the deep shadows. The letter Susan Fraughton had shown him was to advise her husband of a meeting between the key players, the time, and the place. And Brandon intended to be there. As he watched them go, he mused over what he’d heard. He would have to pay Willard a visit at his home tonight. Word must be sent immediately to warn the comtesse.

He turned to make his way back along the circuitous route he’d come.

It came as a surprise that Robert Marston was party to this, but it explained a lot. The rake had been toying with Susan, no doubt with some ploy in mind. Should she be warned? Brandon dismissed it. There was scant reason for it yet, and he couldn’t see how he’d manage it without giving too much away. The less she knew the better. It was possible that her interest in finding a new lover could mean her involvement with Marston had ended.

Brandon lit a cheroot and wandered toward a fountain centered in the closely shaved lawns. He rested a foot on the stone edge. It was an agreeable sight, the water cascading from a nymph’s stone urn into the pool, and sending out ripples across the surface. Like the ripples Miss Bromley set in motion when she’d first appeared in that library. From their seemingly innocuous meeting, their paths continued to cross. What was she about? She kept turning up like a bad penny though he did admit she intrigued him. He had been convinced she was what she appeared to be, a young innocent. She certainly looked the part when her thickly-fringed brown eyes implored him. But he couldn’t allow a girl to sway him. Too much was at stake. What was her involvement with Lady Arietta? He had thought after Kendall died the lady would let things be. Dangerous for her, and Letitia, surely, to get involved in this.

He flicked his cheroot away and headed back to the house. What to do about Miss Bromley? He suspected he wasn’t done with her; his bully-boy tactics having failed. He must devise another strategy, he felt sure he would need it.

Chapter Nine

As Arietta had promised, after supper, she introduced Letty to several gentlemen and two ladies with daughters making their Come-out. Most greeted her warmly, but one older lady raised her plucked eyebrows. “Cumbria? At least you do not have the country burr.” Letty feared she expected her to chew on a hayseed. When Arietta gave her a subtle signal with her fan, Letty excused herself and left them.

Arietta’s plea for information urged Letty to discover something more before the evening was over. It would be useless to shadow Cartwright; he would be watching for her. And she refused to subject herself to such embarrassment again. Not after the way he’d treated her in the garden. She didn’t trust him after that clandestine meeting with Fraughton’s wife and then lurking in the garden watching Fraughton. With such inexplicable behavior, he could not be a good man. If only she could get hold of that letter in Lady Fraughton’s reticule. It might explain why Cartwright wished to see it.

After searching the reception rooms, she found the lady playing whist at a card table in the salon. But there was no sign of her reticule. Letty cast about but could not see it. She went to the drawing room. There it was! It must be hers. So unusual, shaped like a shell, with a shell clasp and decorated with gold beads. Lady Fraughton had left it on an occasional table, but unfortunately, her husband was not far away.

Letty was about to admit defeat when Fraughton suddenly left the room. Her heart thudding, she glanced around before approaching the table. She placed a hand on the glossy wooden surface, as if to steady herself, her fingers inches from the bag, when Lord Fraughton appeared at the door. He came over to the table and picked up the reticule, casting a glance at her. “Lady Fraughton’s, I believe.”

“Is it? It is very like my friend’s. I was about to return it to her.”

Fraughton nodded and left the room.

Letty remained where she was relieved that he hadn’t sought to question her. She trembled at the expression in Fraughton’s eyes. Could he suspect her? She tried to calm herself and order her thoughts.

A dark superfine sleeve appeared in the corner of her eye, and a low voice soun

ded in her ear. She jumped and glanced up. Cartwright, with that steely glint in his eyes. He had a habit of appearing out of nowhere. Had he been hiding behind the curtains? The question hovered on her tongue, but now others had come within earshot, so she clamped her lips together.

“Miss Bromley. How nice to see you again,” he said politely. “How is your aunt?”

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