Gabriella stepped to me and enfolded me a spontaneous embrace. “Do not worry, Father.” She patted my waistcoat as she released me. “You were kind to broach such a difficult subject. We will keep it to ourselves for now.”
Emile said nothing, only bowing to Donata in farewell.
I saw them out, down the stairs to the front door, where Gabriella embraced me again and kissed both my cheeks. Emile clasped my hand in a very English handshake, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze.
Bartholomew helped them into their light wraps for the cool of the summer night, and they departed in our hired coach, Brewster swinging to his perch behind to accompany them.
I returned to the upstairs sitting room to find Donata stretched out on the sofa, sipping a brandy. She shifted enough to allow me space to sit and put her stockinged feet into my lap.
“You believe the Deveres killed Potier, don’t you?” she asked me pointedly.
“I’m not certain.” I lifted the glass of brandy Bartholomew had left for me. “But yes, I think it is a good possibility. And when Gallo tried to blackmail them about it, they killed him as well.”
Chapter 23
If you are correct, what will you do?” Donata’s voice was quiet.
I let out a long breath. “If they took Potier’s life, it was understandable. They were no doubt defending home and family.”
“That is plausible,” Donata agreed. “Potier turned up at their factory with his threats. Would he have been such a fool as to arrive alone? Or did his own men assist in his demise?”
“Anything is possible. Apparently, no one grieved when Potier disappeared, including his fellow officials.” I took a fortifying drink of brandy. “Murdering Gallo, though, that is another matter. The war is over, and killing is against the law, even if Gallo was a criminal himself.”
“As I asked, what will you do?” Donata studied me calmly, letting me reach my own conclusions.
“I truly do not know. The Deveres’ past actions might have been justifiable, but how can I let my daughter live with men who strike out in violence when they are threatened?”
“You strike out, at times,” Donata reminded me.
I had very definitely attacked men who’d wronged those I cared for, including one who’d endangered Gabriella.
Perhaps I should be grateful the Deveres were so protective, but Gabriella would be living in the midst of them. Subject to the same violence?
I wasn’t certain how long Emile could keep silent about the matter. What would happen on the day he confronted Fernand about the Deveres’ past misdeeds? What would Fernand do when he discovered Gabriella also knew?
“If I discover that Fernand or one of his brothers murdered Gallo, I will have to tell Vernet. I will be a conspirator if I do not.” I swallowed more brandy. “But I will say nothing until I am very, very certain.”
“Putting yourself in danger while you investigate them,” Donata said in resignation.
“I see no other way. I do not want Vernet rampaging in and arresting the entire family so close to the wedding. I will at least wait until after that.”
“Very kind of you.” Donata’s eyes held an ironic glint, but I could see she agreed with me. “But have Brewster stay close.”
“Wise advice.” I saluted her with my brandy. “I will, my love.”
With Gabriella’s wedding only days away, I had very little time to look into problems, in any case. When no Devere turned up to threaten me in the intervening time, I concluded that Emile had kept his promise to remain silent.
I had an appointment on Friday evening at the comtesse’s chateau to speak to her about purchasing the de’ Medici letter for Denis, which Grenville had returned to her. At eight o’clock that night, I had Barthlomew dress me in one of my best suits and duly took myself there.
Brewster, as usual, accompanied me. We walked, as the night was fine, and the chateau wasn’t far.
The hill, on the other hand, had me cursing my resolve—the comtesse lived in a higher spot than we did. By the time we reached the chateau, my knee was aching.
Brewster greeted the burly men who guarded the gates, and they hailed him as a friend. We were readily admitted, Brewster staying behind to speak to them and very likely to share more of the ale he’d admired.
Denis had given me no instructions as to the price for the letter. He was not a frugal man, but nor would he appreciate paying an exorbitant amount. Denis had indicated he believed the comtesse would strike a fair bargain, and from what I’d noted of her, he likely had the right of it.
A footman admitted me to the echoing foyer, where Signora Ruggeri had imperiously demanded admittance. Without the crowds, the large entrance hall was cool, the fading sunshine casting gentle shadows on the walls and its tapestries.
