The Rake to Redeem Her

But enough of carnal thoughts. He couldn’t afford to let lust and curiosity make him forget his goal, or lure him into being less than vigilant. He was certain she intended to try to escape him during their journey, and he’d need to be on his best game to ensure she did not.

As he reached that conclusion, Clara exited madame’s lodgings. Keeping into the shadow of the buildings, Will followed her.

To his good fortune, since the onset of evening and the thinning crowds would make it harder to trail her unobserved, the maid headed for the neighbouring market. He shadowed her as she snapped up the last of the day’s bread, cheese and apples at bargain prices from vendors eager to close up for the night.

The Viennese were a prosperous lot, he noted as he trailed a few stalls behind her, and remarkably careless with their purses. Had he a mind to, he could have snatched half a dozen as he strolled along.

Unable to resist the temptation to test his skill and thinking it might make a good introduction, Will nipped from behind the maid to snag her coin purse while she lingered by the last stall, bidding farewell to the vendor and rearranging the purchases in her market basket.

He followed her from the market until she reached a mostly deserted stretch of street, where the buildings’ overhanging second storeys created a shadowy recess. Picking up his pace, Will strode past her and then turned, herding her towards the wall. With a deep bow, he held out the coin purse.

‘Excuse me, miss, I believe you dropped this.’

With a gasp, she shrank back, then halted. ‘Why … it is my purse! I was sure I put it back into my reticule! How can I thank you, Herr …’ Belatedly looking up, she got a glimpse of his face. ‘You!’

Will bowed again. ‘Will Ransleigh, at your service, miss.’

Alarm battled anger in her face. ‘I should call the authorities and have you arrested for theft!’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘How could you do that, when I’ve just returned your purse? If officials in Vienna arrest every fellow who follows a pretty girl, the jails would be full to overflowing. I mean you no harm.’

She sniffed. ‘I note you don’t deny you took it! But seeing as how you could have just as easily knocked me over the head as given it back, I suppose I’ll not scream the houses down—for the moment. What do you want?’

‘I intend to help your mistress leave the city.’

She looked him up and down, her expression wary. ‘I warned her not to trust you. Oh, I don’t doubt you’ll help her, all right—to do what you want her to. Just like that worthless cousin of hers.’

Remembering madame’s bent and swollen fingers, Will felt a surge of dislike. If he ever encountered Thierry St Arnaud, he’d force the man to test his strength against a more fitting adversary. ‘He intimidated her, didn’t he?’

‘Bastard.’ The maid spat on cobblestones. ‘I only saw him strike her twice, but she almost always had bruises. I’ll not hurt her more by telling you anything.’

‘I appreciate your loyalty. But whatever you can tell me—about her relationship with St Arnaud or my cousin—will help me protect her on the journey. I can do a better job if I’m aware of potential threats before they happen. If I know who’s been watching her, and why.’

Her expression clouded, telling Will she worried about her mistress, too. ‘Herr Ransleigh, your cousin, was an honourable man,’ she said after a moment. ‘You promise to keep her safe?’

‘I promise.’ To his surprise, Will found he meant it.

Clara studied him, obviously still reluctant.

‘You want her to stay safe, too, don’t you?’ he coaxed. ‘How about I tell you what I know and you just confirm it?’

After considering another moment, the maid nodded.

‘You’ve been with your mistress more than a year. She engaged you when she first arrived in Vienna—September 1814, wasn’t it?’

Clara nodded.

‘That last night, before her cousin fled the city, he … hurt her.’

Tears came to the girl’s eyes. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘Badly?’ Will pressed, keeping a tight rein over his rising temper, almost certain now he knew what she would tell him.

‘She was unconscious when I found her. Her ribs broken for sure, and her arm and hand bent and twisted. Didn’t come back to herself for more than a day, and for the first month, I wasn’t sure she would survive. Bastard!’ the maid burst out again. ‘Blaming her for the failure of his foolish plan! Or maybe just taking it out on her that it failed. He was that kind.’

‘You took her from the hotel to rooms at a boarding house and nursed her. Then, once she’d recovered sufficiently, you moved her to the lodgings here,’ Will summed up the trail his search had taken him on.

‘By then, she said she was recovered enough to work. I’d sold jewels for her those first few months, until her bad hand healed enough for her to use the fingers. She started doing embroidery then.’

‘And there were watchers, each place you stayed with her?’

‘I guess there were, though I didn’t notice them until she pointed them out after she got better. I was frightened, but what could they want with her? After a few months, I got used to them hanging about.’

‘Viennese lads, they were.’

‘Yes. I spoke to some of them, trying to see if I could find out anything, but they seemed to know only that a local man hired them. I’m certain someone more important was behind it, but I don’t know who.’

Will filed that observation away. ‘Why is she so insistent on returning to Paris?’

‘Her family’s there, I expect. She never spoke about herself, nor was she the sort who thought only of her own comfort. Waiting for her at the dressmakers or at those grand balls, I heard other maids talking about their ladies. Madame wasn’t like most of them, always difficult and demanding. She was kind. She noticed people and their troubles.’

Her eyes far away, Clara smiled. ‘One night, Klaus the footman had a terrible head cold, hardly able to breathe, poor man. Madame only passed by him in the hall on her way to a reception, but first thing the next morning, she had me fetch herbs and made him a tisane. Not that she made a great fuss about doing so, playing Lady Bountiful. No, she just turned it over to the butler and told him to make sure Klaus drank it.’

‘Did you ever wonder why she’d not brought her own maid to Vienna?’

Clara shrugged. ‘Maybe the woman didn’t want to travel so far. Maybe she couldn’t afford to bring her. I don’t think she had any coin of her own. St Arnaud paid my wages, all the bills for jewels, gowns and the household expenses, but he gave her no pin money at all. She didn’t have even a few schillings to buy ices when we were out.’

So, as she’d claimed, Will noted, madame had been entirely dependent on St Arnaud. ‘She never spoke of any other relations?’

‘No. But if they were all like St Arnaud, I understand why she wouldn’t.’ The maid stopped abruptly, wrinkling her brow. ‘There was one person she mentioned. Several times, when I’d given her laudanum for the pain after St Arnaud had struck her, she murmured a name as she dozed. Philippe.’

Surprise and something barbed and sharp stung him in the gut. Impatiently he dismissed it. ‘Husband … brother … lover?’

‘Not her husband—St Arnaud said he’d died in the wars. I did once ask her who “Philippe” was, but she just smiled and made no answer, and I didn’t want to press. She sounded … longing. Maybe he’s someone she wanted to marry, that her cousin had refused; I can see him sending away anyone he didn’t think grand enough for the St Arnauds. Maybe St Arnaud promised if she helped him in Vienna, he would let her marry the man. I know he had some sort of power to force her to do his will.’

For some reason he’d rather not examine, Will didn’t like the idea of Madame Lefevre pining for a Parisian lover. Shaking his head to rid himself of the image, he said, ‘Madame’s dependence on St Arnaud for food, clothing, housing and position would have been enough to coerce her co-operation.’

‘No, it was more than that,’ Clara insisted. ‘Not that she didn’t appreciate fine silks and pretty gems—who would not? But when she had to, she sold them without any sign of regret. She seemed quite content to live simply, not missing in the least the grand society for whom she used to play hostess. All she spoke about was earning enough coin to return to Paris.’

Not wishing to hear any more speculation about the mysterious “Philippe”, Will changed direction. ‘She’s had no contact with St Arnaud since the night of the attack, then?’

The maid shuddered. ‘Better that he believe she died of her injuries. She came close enough.’

‘St Arnaud emigrated to the Caribbean afterwards.’

‘That, I can’t say. I only know he left Vienna that night. If there’s any justice in the world, someone somewhere caught him and he’s rotting in prison.’

Clara looked up, meeting his gaze squarely. ‘If God has any mercy, once she’s done what you want, you’ll let her go back to Paris. To this Philippe, whoever he is. After all she’s suffered, losing her husband, enduring St Arnaud’s abuse, she deserves some happiness.’