The Price of Pleasure (25 page)

Fleur was not fooled by Violet’s subtle hint. Violet wanted Reed and would do anything to tempt him, even flaunting her fortune before him.

Reed rose. “Now that Fleur’s living arrangements are settled, we’ll be off. Fleur, Lisette and I will arrive tomorrow after breakfast. My household will follow in a few days.”

“We already have a full staff,” Helen protested.

“We’ll make room,” Reed assured her. “It’s not as though I have a large staff. Besides, a house this big can use two cooks. As for the housekeeper, I believe Mrs. Court has been employed here beyond her usefulness. I will offer her a generous retirement and see her settled wherever she wishes.”

Helen sputtered a protest until Reed held up his hand. “No more. Everything is settled to my satisfaction. Come, Fleur, it’s time to leave.”

The moment the front door closed behind them, Fleur rounded on Reed. “How dare you force those women to accept me? Moving to an inn will suit me and Lisette just fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Reed said as they approached the carriage.

Suddenly he froze. A familiar sound alerted him, a sound he had heard often enough in the past and hoped never to hear again. He pulled Fleur to the ground and fell on top of her as an explosion ripped through the air. A bullet whizzed past his head and lodged in the carriage door. He felt a momentary pain in his right arm, then numbness.

Frightened by the sound, the carriage horses reared and took off down the street with the coachman running after them.

Panting, Reed lay atop Fleur until he was certain the danger was past. “Are you all right?” he asked. He sat up and pulled Fleur across his lap.

Fleur lifted her eyes to Reed. Her bloody cheek and dazed expression told him that she was
not
all right. And the way she was holding her arms close to her side was not a good sign. Though he saw no blood to indicate the bullet had struck or even grazed her, it was obvious she had been hurt when he shoved her to the ground and landed on top of her.

“What happened?” Fleur asked.

“Someone took a shot at us.”

“Who would do such a thing? Why would anyone want to hurt us?”

Reed’s lips thinned. “That’s what I’d like to know.” He helped her to her feet. “Now do you understand why you need protection?”

Fleur brushed the dirt off her skirt. “How do you know the bullet was meant for me?”

That stopped Reed in his tracks. Did someone want him dead? Had his betrayer followed him to England? That didn’t make sense. He could think of no reason anyone would want to kill him. He was no longer involved in covert activities. His spying days were over.

“I don’t know.”

“I say there, are you two all right?”

Reed glanced down the street and saw Gallard Duvall hurrying toward them.

“What happened here?” Duvall asked when he noted Fleur’s dusty clothing and bloody cheek.

“Fleur tripped and fell,” Reed lied, sending a warning glance at Fleur when she opened her mouth to explain. “Gallard, please meet Countess Fleur Fontaine. She’s a childhood friend of Helen’s and will be living at the mansion for the present. Fleur, Gallard Duvall is an émigré and distant relative.”

Duvall made his bow. “Is there anything I can do to help, my lady?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“What are you doing here, Duvall?” Reed asked.

“I’m on my way to visit Lady Helen and her sister. They have been kind enough to receive me. I usually take tea with them once or twice a week.”

“Then we won’t keep you,” Reed said as he spied a hackney plodding down the street. He stepped to the curb and hailed it. “Please excuse us,” he said as he gave his destination to the driver, handed Fleur into the cab and hopped in beside her.

Once inside, Reed produced a pristine white handkerchief and dabbed at the blood oozing from the scratches on Fleur’s cheek. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine, Reed, don’t fuss.”

“What about your arm? I noticed you favoring it.”

“I think I bruised it when I fell.”

“Mrs. Peabody will take care of it when we reach home.”

“Why did you lie to Mr. Duvall?”

“At this point, I don’t trust anyone.”

“But he’s a relative of yours.”

“A very distant one. I don’t know enough about him or his background to confide in him.”

“Have you ever met any of the Duvalls?”

He shrugged. “No, they never came to England before. I hope John Coachman managed to catch the horses before they got too far.”

The hackney rolled to a stop. The driver opened the door and pulled the steps down. Reed paid him and escorted Fleur to the entrance. A footman opened the door before they reached it.

“Please summon Mrs. Peabody immediately, Gordon. Ask her to bring warm water and clean cloths,” Reed ordered the startled footman. “And send Updike to me. We’ll be in my study.”

“Really, Reed, I told you I’m fine.”

Once inside the study, Reed settled Fleur into a chair. “You don’t need to make a fuss over a few scratches,” Fleur persisted. “Lisette can . . . ”

“
Ma petite,
what happened?” Lisette cried, bursting into the study. “I was with Mrs. Peabody when Gordon came to fetch her. She’ll be here directly. How did you hurt yourself?”

“She tripped over the hem of her skirt and fell,” Reed said. “She bruised her cheek and arm but is otherwise intact.”

Lisette sent Reed a skeptical look. “I’ve never known Fleur to be clumsy. Oh, look at your new gown! The hem is ripped and so is the sleeve.”

“Never mind the gown, Lisette. I’m sure it can be restored to its previous glory.”

“Gordon told me Lady Fontaine was injured,” Mrs. Peabody said from the doorway.

“Come in, Mrs. Peabody. Lady Fontaine suffered a scrape in a fall.”

Mrs. Peabody clucked her tongue sympathetically as she cleaned the scratches on Fleur’s cheek.

“That should do it,” the housekeeper said as she stepped away. “Can I be of any further . . .” The words died in her throat when she noticed the jagged tear in Reed’s coat sleeve and the blood seeping through it. “My lord, you’re hurt! Take off your coat so I can see.”

Reed stared down at his sleeve, surprised to see blood staining it. He’d been so worried about Fleur, he had forgotten his own pain. Now he remembered it. Though he knew the bullet hadn’t lodged in his flesh, it must have cut a shallow groove in his arm. It stung like the very devil.

“It’s nothing, Mrs. Peabody.”

“It’s something if it drew blood,” Fleur contradicted. “Let Mrs. Peabody look at it.”

“Fleur, I don’t . . .” About that time Updike burst through the door.

“Gordon said you wished to see me, my lord.”

Reed heaved a sigh of relief. “Updike, you’re just in time. Mrs. Peabody, why don’t you and Lisette take Lady Fleur to her room and treat any hidden bruises she might have. I noticed her holding her right arm.”

“Reed, no!” Fleur protested. “I want to see if you’re . . . ”

“Do as I say, Fleur,” Reed said in a voice that brooked no argument.

“What happened?” Updike asked once the door had closed behind the women.

“Help me off with my coat,” Reed said. “Someone took a shot at me and Fleur. The bullet must have grazed me. Fleur injured her cheek when I shoved her to the ground. Thank God my reflexes are still good.”

Updike eased Reed’s coat off. “Did you see who did it?”

“No, though he must have been close. I was too concerned with keeping Fleur safe to worry about anything else. The explosion frightened the horses, which added to the confusion. The last I saw of the carriage, it was careening down the street with the coachman racing after it.”

“Does someone wish you ill, my lord?”

“If I’m the target, I can handle it. But if it’s Fleur, the would-be assassin had best beware.”

Chapter Twelve

Fleur’s arm was bruised but not badly injured. Lisette, Mrs. Peabody and Peg wanted to put her to bed, but she fought them and won. It was true her cheek stung fiercely but the pain was nothing she couldn’t handle. Besides, she was desperate to check on Reed. Though he insisted the bullet had barely scratched him, she wanted to see for herself. To that end, she asked Peg to help her change her torn gown so she could find Reed.

“You had best do as she says,” Lisette counseled Peg in halting English. “When Fleur makes up her mind, nothing will change it.”

Fleur stood with waning patience while Peg fetched her blue-and-gold-striped walking dress and hooked her into it. Once the last hook was done up, Fleur hurried out the door and down the stairs with Lisette trailing after her. She entered the study without knocking and found it empty.

“May I help you, my lady?” Updike said from the doorway.

Fleur spun on her heel. “You can tell me where I can find his lordship.”

“He’s left the house, my lady.”

“He left? What about his wound? Did he require the services of a surgeon?”

“No, indeed,” Updike replied. “ ’Twas but a scratch. He changed his shirt and coat and left immediately.”

“Where did he go?”

“I cannot say, my lady. His lordship didn’t confide in me.”

Fleur seriously doubted that. Updike seemed more than a simple valet. He was a butler, a confidant and apparently indispensable to Reed.

“Did he say when he would return?”

“No, my lady, though he did say not to expect him for dinner. He also said,” Updike continued, “that you weren’t to leave the house. Until the mystery of your recent . . . er . . . accident is solved, he wants you to go nowhere without proper protection.”

Fleur gave an unladylike snort. How like Reed to think of her safety while disregarding his own. How dare he leave without telling her where he’d gone and why! This matter concerned her as well as him.

“Will you please tell him I wish to speak with him the moment he returns? I don’t care how late it is.”

Fleur failed to notice the speculative gleam in Updike’s eyes. “I will give him your message, my lady. Might I suggest you and Madame Lisette take tea in the parlor? I’ll have Cook include some tasty sandwiches and cakes to hold you over until dinner.”

Grudgingly Fleur accepted the offer. She had missed lunch and was hungry.

“What do you think is going on?” Lisette asked once she and Fleur were ensconced in the parlor, an assortment of sandwiches and cakes placed before them. “I assumed the danger would be over once we arrived in England. Who would want to harm you?”

Fleur popped a tiny sandwich into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. She swallowed, then said, “I cannot believe I am the one in danger.”

“Then how do you explain being shot at?”

“The only explanation I can come up with is that Reed was the target. In fact, I’m convinced of it. Now all I have to do is convince Reed.”

Fleur spent the rest of the day curled up with a book. Later, she and Lisette ate off of dinner trays in her bedchamber rather than going down to the dining room. Lisette bid her goodnight and left after they had eaten. Fleur rang for Peg and asked that a bath be prepared. After she had washed her hair and bathed, she readied herself for bed.

Because Fleur had no chamber robe yet, she donned a shift and wrapped herself in a blanket. Then she sat in a chair before the newly stoked fire to await Reed’s return. She didn’t have long to wait. The clock on the mantle had just chimed ten when she heard the door open. Reed stepped into the bedchamber and closed the door behind him.