Christian Seaton_ Duke of Danger(25)

‘The Comte believes you do. And so do I,’ the butler added softly.

Lisette’s cheeks warmed at the compliment. ‘I do believe I might sleep for a week in such a comfortable-looking bed!’ It certainly looked nicer than the slender cot she had been sleeping on at the tavern these past weeks.

François smiled. ‘But first you must eat and bathe.’

Lisette looked at the dishevelled butler and then down at her own less than pristine appearance. ‘We are a sorry-looking pair, are we not, François!’

He gave a boyish grin. ‘We are merely battle-worn, Mademoiselle Lisette.’

Yes, ‘battle-worn’ correctly described how Lisette felt as she sank weakly down onto the stool in front of the dressing table once François had left to give instructions in regard to her breakfast.

She really had never seen such finery as the satins and velvets in this bedchamber, let alone thought she would ever sleep in such luxury.

But she had no doubt that, by leaving the tavern in the hurried way that she had last night, repugnant as returning to the Fleur de Lis was to her, if she did not go back to collect the few belongings she had, she now literally owned no more than the clothes she stood in—sat down in.





Chapter Six

‘I— But just yesterday, you said you had no plans to leave Paris as yet...’

Christian, having just told Lisette when she came to his bedchamber that evening that he had arranged passage for them both to go to England later tonight, could well understand her surprise.

He had kept his promise not to stir from his bed, but otherwise he had not been idle during the hours Lisette slept. Besides receiving continual updates on Pierre’s condition—which seemed to be improving, thank God—and arranging passage to England for himself and Lisette, Christian had also sent out for several gowns and other female apparel for her.

She had protested, of course, but Christian had then pointed out that she could not continue to wear the soiled black gown. He was, after all, the reason she did not have anything but that soiled—and unattractive—black gown to wear.

The ordering of three new gowns had also allowed Christian to choose colours for her other than black. The deep purple gown she now wore and the pale and dark grey of the other two gowns were also mourning colours, but so much less sombre than that funereal black.

A mourning which he now knew to be for her uncle, the French spy André Rousseau.

Much as he might wish it, Christian knew he could not ignore or forget that fact.

His mouth firmed. ‘You must know as well as I that the events of last night have necessitated changing my plans somewhat. As well as your own,’ he continued softly. ‘You already told me you intended leaving the tavern today anyway and it would perhaps be as well if you did not go back there at all. Unless there are things of your own there you cannot bear to be parted from?’

She grimaced. ‘I have very few personal possessions...’

‘Then leave them for now. There is no reason why you cannot claim them at a later date,’ Christian added as she still hesitated.

She frowned. ‘Even so, that does not mean I have any intention of travelling to England with you.’

Christian would much rather that Lisette came with him willingly; after all that she had done for him, he did not relish the idea of forcing her into accompanying him.

He wished he did not have to take her to England with him at all, knowing what fate awaited her there. But after last night he could not see a future for her here in Paris either. And if Lisette was as innocent as he believed her to be, then surely, once Aubrey Maystone had questioned her and realised her innocence for himself, Christian might be able to find a place for her in an English household, as a companion or governess, perhaps?

Perhaps his sister Julianna, expecting her first child in a few months’ time, might even be persuaded into engaging Lisette as a nanny for the child?

‘Parlez-vous anglais?’ Christian asked her, to which she gave a firm shake of her head. ‘Then I shall have someone teach you the rudiments of the language once we are in England.’

‘Why?’

‘You cannot live in another country and not speak the language.’ He eyed her frustratedly.

Whilst Lisette looked totally refreshed after her rest, and the purple gown was most becoming to her creamy complexion and tidily upswept red hair, Christian was feeling decidedly tired and not a little bad-tempered after his busy day making the necessary arrangements for their departure from Paris. It was now early in the evening and his thigh throbbed like the very devil from his daytime exertions.

Lisette’s eyes widened. ‘Even if I were to agree to accompany you now, I would not remain in England longer than it takes to see you are safely returned.’