I thought that would be the end of this strange occurrence, but Vernet produced a folded paper from his pocket.
“Here is your missive, which the housekeeper says arrived around midnight. We found it in her dressing room.” He handed it to me, the words on it in English.
I have the Italian letter, the note said, which I have discovered is worth much. I am happy to give it to you for a small share in the profit from its sale. Let us meet at once, in the house where you resided in the Presqu’île. Gabriel Lacey, Capt.
I gazed at the paper, dumbfounded. “I never wrote this. The handwriting is far neater than anything I can produce. And why would I offer to give Signora Ruggeri the letter? It belongs in Lejeune’s collection.”
“And I have purchased it.” Denis had approached, his step so quiet I’d not noted him. “The comtesse still has the letter, and I will call on her to retrieve it before I leave Lyon.”
He spoke in fluent French, and Vernet’s scowl grew fiercer as Denis offered this information.
“Then where did this summons come from?” Vernet demanded, snatching the note back from me. “I know you are a man of your word, Captain, but forgive me if I wish to verify your story before I accept it. You, I do not know at all.” Vernet turned his glare on Denis.
Denis gave him a frosty nod. “By all means, do question it. Captain Lacey was in my presence last evening, until half past nine, when I left him on the doorstep of his hired home. I know he did not leave it until he set off for the wedding.” Brewster would have informed him if I had, or perhaps Denis had put others in place in the house to watch over me.
Vernet tucked the message away. “Whether you sent for her or not, the question remains, what has happened to Signora Ruggeri?”
“She might have fled the city,” Denis suggested in his cool tones. “Using the letter as a ruse and deflecting attention to Captain Lacey.”
“Because she assisted Gallo in his blackmailing?” Vernet asked. “Yes, I do know about that, Captain, so do not look startled. She and Gallo were fleecing half of Lyon, including Comte Lejeune himself. She could very well have fled, but she left everything she had behind. The coachman, who has served her since she departed England, was left behind as well. He is certain she is in danger.”
“Then, we had better find the blasted woman,” I said, my temper rising. “Both to assure her safety and to clear my name, if the comte is putting about that I’ve abducted her. Though why the devil I would is baffling.”
“Because you knew of her past and threatened to expose her,” Vernet said without much conviction. “She told the comte she feared you.”
“It is hardly logical she would answer a summons from Lacey if she was afraid of him, then,” Grenville pointed out. “The man spoke to her only once that I know of.”
At Marianne’s soiree. I’d told Signora Ruggeri that I and my friends knew who she really was, and she’d seemed resigned to that fact. But a good confidence trickster could spin the encounter into a threat to her person if she thought it would help her along.
“I am growing worried about her now,” I said. “I hope she ran off to seek another target in another city—another country if she is wise—but we’d better make certain she is well.”
Grenville’s hand landed on my shoulder. “You will not. You will go to Gabriella’s wedding breakfast and toast her until you cannot stand. I will go with Vernet and try to clear your name. I’m certain Mr. Denis has people he can pry from their beds to assist.”
“And I,” another voice said as Denis gave Grenville a frigid nod.
Moreau had appeared from the crowd to regard Vernet impassively. “I know Lyon,” he said. “I can aid in the search.”
I was pleased he was willing to help, though I knew that hunting for Signora Ruggeri might also bring Moreau to Madame Paillard’s missing letter.
Vernet eyed me severely. “I was instructed to arrest you, Captain. But …” He spread his hands in resignation. “I must live in this city, among its people. If it became known I removed you from your daughter’s wedding, and that daughter has just married a Devere …”
“Lyon would become too hot to hold you.” Fernand Devere had appeared at Vernet’s shoulder. “We will watch over Captain Lacey. If he proves to be a mad abductor, we will bring him to you, tied up and ready to surrender.”
“I am obliged to you, Fernand,” I said dryly. “Take Brewster with you,” I told Grenville. “He is excellent at searching. I will join you later.”
I truly was anxious for Signora Ruggeri’s safety, and indignant that whoever had taken her had decided to blame me. Any other day, I’d insist on rushing off with Vernet, but not this morning.
Today, I wanted to be in Gabriella’s presence, to watch my beloved daughter blossom into the woman she was meant to be. I’d too soon have to leave her behind.
I stepped around Vernet, waved a vague salute to the others, and followed Fernand down the village street toward the Auberge farm, where we would celebrate the joining of our families.
For a time, I did rejoice. The wedding party had gained the farmhouse as I’d argued with Vernet, where the breakfast had been set up in the garden on this fine day.
Brewster had gone to join Vernet, Grenville, Denis, and Moreau. Before Brewster departed, Gabriella had bestowed a blossom from her bouquet on him. He’d thanked her and tucked it into a buttonhole, his eyes becoming suspiciously moist.
Gabriella now fluttered through the garden like a butterfly, the ribbons on her gown she’d so painstakingly searched the markets for fluttering. She had time for everyone—her half-brothers and half-sisters, her mother and Major Auberge, and all the guests, especially Donata and Marianne, the Devere family, and me.
“I am so very glad I found you again, Father,” Gabriella gushed as she took a vacated chair next to me as the feasting wound down. We’d been served a lavish Lyonnais breakfast with plenty of meat and sausage, and wine to wash it all down. “I had both fathers I love at my wedding. I have the best fortune in the world.”
