Tasha Alexander - Dangerous to Know

“Enough!” Mrs. Hargreaves found her tongue. “Who is this man?”

“Allow me to present Mr. Sebastian Capet,” I said. “Mr. Capet, Madame Hargreaves, ma belle-mère. ”

“Enchanté,” Sebastian said, turning his attentions to her. “I’ve much enjoyed your hospitality. Thanks are long overdue.”

“What on earth can this mean? Emily, is this man not a thief? The man who has only just violated the privacy of my home?”

“Such harsh words, good lady.” His smile revealed straight, fine teeth. “I assure you I’ve never taken anything of yours.”

“I’ve asked the butler to send for Inspector Gaudet,” I said. “Mr. Capet is here to give his alibi to the police.”

“How are you acquainted with this man?” she asked, touching Cécile’s arm.

“Primarily by reputation, and I can assure you he is a man to be much admired,” Cécile said.

“He broke into my house.”

“Now, Mrs. Hargreaves, you don’t know that,” Sebastian said. “The mere fact that notes from me were delivered to your son and his lovely bride does not prove I was actually here. You give me too much credit. It’s entirely possible I paid a servant to do my bidding. Can you really think I would disrupt any part of your extremely comfortable abode?”

I didn’t believe him for an instant, but Mrs. Hargreaves’s features softened. It was hard not to be charmed by Sebastian’s easy smile and affable manners, particularly when one first met him.

“But you just thanked me for my hospitality,” she said.

“Which I obviously would have no need of doing had I invaded the seat of your domestic bliss.”

“So I’m to forgive your other transgressions because you claim to have stolen nothing from me?”

“Transgressions?” He laughed. “My dear lady, someday I will regale you with tales of my adventures. If, after that, you still find me guilty I will repent and change my ways forever. But now I see our valiant inspector and your illustrious son coming up the path. Will you excuse me? I always like to get boring business out of the way without delay.”

He raced outside, greeting Gaudet with an eager handshake. My husband, whose scowl was unmistakable, stood, arms crossed, two paces from Sebastian. I watched through the open window as they spoke, the inspector pulling out a notebook and writing in it furiously as Sebastian talked. I could hear nothing they were saying—the only thing audible to me was Cécile’s efforts to convince Mrs. Hargreaves that our intrepid thief was something less than a complete reprobate—but in a short while Gaudet nodded. The pair shook hands again and the policeman walked away without so much as a glance towards the house.

Sebastian, grinning like a wicked child, returned to us, Colin following close behind, as if on guard.

“You’re lucky to have had a ready alibi,” my husband said to him as they entered the room.

“Did the inspector accept it?” I asked, crossing to Colin, whose lips barely grazed my hand as he kissed it.

“Kallista, darling, could you doubt he would? Your lack of faith slays me.” Truly, Sebastian was infuriating! I could see Colin was about to reprimand him, but wanted to make the interjection myself. Otherwise, it would appear not only that my husband was being domineering, but, more importantly, that I myself did not object to the liberties being taken.

“Do not, Mr. Capet, take on tones of familiarity with me. And don’t even consider making yourself comfortable,” I said, my voice severe. “What did the inspector say about the stolen Monet?”

Sebastian laughed. “It was a trifle, really. No person of the venerable Inspector Gaudet’s taste could really believe I’d take such a gauche painting. Besides, he can’t prove a thing. My work here is finished.”

“Not quite,” I said. “We’ve one more errand ahead of us. I don’t share the inspector’s gullibility. You’re going to apologize to the Markhams and return the painting to Monet.”

Mrs. Hargreaves looked askance at me and drew Sebastian over to her. They stayed close, apparently deep in conversation for some time, and as we prepared to set off for the Markhams’ château I wondered if she would express an interest in joining us, but she did not.

“I do hope, Lady Emily, that my household can return to a more normal state now that this business is finished,” she said. “Added excitement is not what you need right now.”

Sitting in the coach, I considered whether her comment suggested a warming towards me. Could she actually be concerned for my well-being? Or was I looking too hard to find signs of something simply not there?

The driver slowed as we clattered over the bridge leading to the château, the road cooled by the dark shade of tall willow trees. By the time we reached the house, Madeline had popped her head out a first-floor window and waved.

“George is in the garden!” she cried. “It’s so good of you to visit!”

Colin turned to me. “Could you find him? I don’t want to let Capet out of my sight for an instant.”

“Of course.” I started down the gravel path. All but a few wispy clouds had vanished from the sky as the sun fought to eviscerate the last remnants of damp chill in the air. I turned away from the house, passed through a thick row of hedges, and emerged next to the circular dovecote, built in the same style, and undoubtedly the same time, as the tower. I felt a shiver of cold and rubbed my arms. But there was something else—something that filled me with an uneasy discomfort. My pace slowed, and I looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but once again I could not shake the sensation of being watched.

I was afraid to look, filled with an inexplicable dread of what I felt certain I’d see. I stopped walking, breathed slow and deep. But I couldn’t resist. Raising my eyes to the dovecote, I saw the small girl with blonde hair, a blue ribbon tied in it, one tiny, pale hand pressed against the window, the other clutching a worn-looking doll.

Rationality rushed from me. For an instant I froze, seized with fear. Another glance at the eerie figure, and I ran through the garden until, panting and sweaty, I found George on a bench by the maze.

“My dear girl, what on earth has happened to you?” he asked, standing to greet me. “Sit down and catch your breath. You look a fright.”

“No, thank you, I’d rather stand,” I said, trembling. “It’s ridiculous, really. Mad.” I wanted to blurt out what I’d seen, even though I knew there couldn’t have been an actual girl in the dovecote. Last time I’d searched and found nothing. The shivers still running through me, I felt as if I’d seen a ghost.

“Ridiculous how?” He looked past me in the direction of the dovecote. “You’re not seeing things, are you? Madeline does sometimes.”

“No, no. Of course not.” That Madeline saw things did not surprise me, but Madeline was not entirely sane. My mind was racing, spinning, trying to process what I’d seen. I’d lost a baby. My heart and my head were grieving and brought me an image of what? The child I might have had? A girl in search of a mother?

“She tries to convince me the château is haunted. You don’t agree with her, do you?” I saw concern—real concern—in George’s light eyes and forced a smile onto my face.

“Aren’t all châteaux haunted?” I asked, slowing my breath and keeping my tone light. “I thought it was a requirement.”

“I certainly hope not,” he said. “I’ve enough to concern myself with trying to keep the roof from falling on my head, not to mention marauding art thieves milling about. The last thing I need is to worry about supernatural disturbances as well.”

“It’s the marauding thief who brings me to you today. Or, rather, I have brought him to you.”