She was giddy with joy, her happiness overflowing.
“My fortune is doubly great.” I pulled Gabriella into my arms, wishing I could hold her forever. “Thank you for allowing me into your life.”
“I would rather have more family than less.” Gabriella broke the embrace, smiling at me. “An abundance of affection. Is that not better?”
“I suppose it is.” I prayed life would not bring her too many disappointments, too many tragedies. I preferred her to believe in the goodness of the world, not its darkness. The opposite of my own path, in fact.
But my path had widened these days, with many forks of possibilities.
When the couple took their leave to walk to their new home, Donata accompanied them, as did the female Deveres, Marianne, and Madame Paillard, who seemed to have struck up a friendship with Donata.
Carlotta declared she’d stay home, as there was so much to do once all the guests departed. I suspected she did not wish to be in Donata’s presence any longer than needed.
Gabriella’s sisters generously assured their mother they’d remain to help her. They hurried into the house while Carlotta lingered at the garden’s gate, shading her eyes to watch Gabriella depart.
“She will never be far,” I said, stepping next to her.
Carlotta swung to me, her eyes red-rimmed. “No, she will not. She will never live in England with you.”
“I know,” I said calmly. Carlotta’s anger at me no longer found an answer in mine. “She belongs here. You and Auberge raised a fine young woman.”
Carlotta started, as though surprised I’d express such a sentiment. “We did.” She eyed me narrowly. “If you expect me to apologize for deserting you all those years ago, I never will. I am not sorry I did so. I traded misery for a chance at peace.”
“I was a rotten husband, it is true.” I gazed after Gabriella, her step exuberant, as she, surrounded by ladies, disappeared around a bend in the road. “I have learned much since then. I am likely still a poor husband, but my new wife does not care.”
“And I should not have cared?” Carlotta demanded.
“You deserved better, and that is what you found. I am glad now, and I’m pleased I can be glad.” As Carlotta stared at me, I dared touch her cheek. “Au revoir, Carlotta.”
Carlotta swallowed, the pretty young woman I’d once fallen for showing briefly in her eyes. “Goodbye, Gabriel.”
I nodded at her and turned away, taking my leave and putting the past firmly where it was meant to stay.
Denis’s hired coach waited at the end of the lane from the Auberge farm. Denis had sent it back for me, the coachman relayed, before he assisted me inside. I told the him where I wished to begin the search and rode back to Lyon in comfort that only Denis could procure.
The coachman let me off before tall gates to the villa that the comte had lent to Signora Ruggeri. It lay on a road that wound northwest of Lyon, in a pretty grove of trees heavy with the green of summer. I’d decided to trace Signora Ruggeri’s steps from where she’d last been seen.
When I entered the house, which was a smaller version of the villa Donata had hired, I found Colonel Moreau arguing with the housekeeper.
No one but Moreau was there, and I assumed Brewster had accompanied Denis and Grenville wherever they’d gone. Brewster would be more interested in protecting those two than Moreau, a man he still thought me mad for trusting.
The agitated footman who’d admitted me into the house faded from sight, as though unwilling to join the confrontation.
The housekeeper, a round-bodied woman with gray hair and a soft face, had a stentorian voice that did not go with her appearance. She snapped at Moreau that she had no idea where the signora kept her precious papers.
“That woman was nothing but trouble,” she finished. “I hope I never see her again.”
“I beg your pardon,” I said in French. “Can I help?”
Chapter 28
The housekeeper swung around with a start.
Moreau straightened from where he’d leaned to interrogate the woman and regarded me awkwardly. He was clearly hunting for the cache of Gallo’s papers, but he must have antagonized the housekeeper instead of gaining her trust.
“Will you allow us a look into her chambers?” I asked the housekeeper, at my most deferential. “She might have left some sign of where she’s gone.”
“I hope she’s cleared off for good,” the housekeeper declared. “But yes, search, by all means. If she doesn’t come back, I intend to give all her things to the police or the Hôtel Dieu.”
