“Please, Mademoiselle Fournier, I cannot keep up.”
“You do not wish to miss the feeding of the bears, do you?” The female voice bore a crisp French accent. “You must hurry, or we will miss it.”
Shading her eyes, Thea spotted the pair: a small, tawny-haired boy, simply and expensively dressed, led by the arm by a woman whose drab gown and bonnet pronounced her as his governess. They were on the other side of the pond, heading toward the trees along the perimeter of the gardens.
The child dug in his heels. “I do not think that this is the way to the bears. And what about Papa? He said he would be right back—”
“Your papa will find us. You must listen to me.Allons-y.”
The governess yanked impatiently at her charge’s arm, and the boy whimpered, “Stop, please, you’re hurting me!”
Thea found herself on her feet, dashing over. “Pardon,” she said between breaths, “what is going on?”
The governess’ head whipped in her direction. The woman was in her twenties, exceptionally pretty, with even features and a slim figure. Her dark shrewd eyes roved over Thea, and her expression smoothed like a sheet over a bed.
“Nothing to concern you,mademoiselle,” she said.
“Your treatment of this child concerns me.” Thea turned to the boy, whose blue-grey eyes took up much of his thin face. Freckles stood out against the paleness of his skin. Gentling her voice, she said, “Are you all right, dear?”
“Y-yes, miss.”
The boy’s quivering reply indicated that he wasn’t fine. Not by a long shot.
“Are you being taken against your will?” she said.
“I am his governess,” the Frenchwoman snapped. “You are interfering in business that does not concern you. Come, Frederick, we must go.”
Thea tensed as the boy resisted, pulling against the other’s grip.
“I want Papa,” he said, his lower lip trembling. “He told us to wait whilst he went to purchase tickets for the camel rides.”
“We are leavingnow.” The governess twisted his arm, and he cried out.
“Stop hurting him!” With a desperate lunge, Thea grabbed onto the governess’ arm, managing to shake the other’s grip off the boy. She pushed the child behind her, shielding him as best she could.
Desperation lit the Frenchwoman’s eyes. She shoved her hand into the side of her skirts, removing a glinting object. Stunned, Thea found herself staring at the barrel of a small pistol.
“Give him to me,” the governess said.
Thea could feel the child shaking behind her skirts—or was it her own limbs quivering?
“You’ll have to shoot me first.” She hated how winded she sounded, the shortness of her breath.Keep calm, breathe slowly…“If that pistol goes off, everyone will hear,” she managed. “You won’t get away.”
The woman leveled her weapon. “This is your last warning—”
“Frederick!” The masculine roar came from a distance. “Where are you?”
“Papa!” the boy shouted. “Over here!”
Thea kept her gaze on the governess. Panic flared in the other’s dark eyes, her knuckles bone-white against the gun. Thea braced, her heart thudding in her ears—
The governess turned and raced toward the trees. Dazed, Thea stared after the retreating figure. Something white fluttered from the dark skirts, landing on the grass, but the woman took no notice. She continued running, reaching the copse at the perimeter of the gardens and vanishing into the dense brush.
Thea took the few steps over to the fallen object. Bent to pick it up. It was an ordinary white handkerchief, the initials “M. F.” embroidered prominently at the center.
“Frederick! Are you all right?”
At the familiar deep male voice, Thea jerked around. Her disordered breath hitched further.Tremont?For an instant, their gazes locked; she saw her own shock reflected in those tempestuous grey depths.
