What would happen to her after they left? Could she return to the stage? A shaft of loneliness brought another sob to her lips. She’d desperately tried to keep those feelings at bay. Her love for Anthony had made her weak. Struggling to regain her composure, she stared out the window. A sailboat’s red sail caught by the sun sent crimson reflections over the rippling water. A couple strolled along the bank, the woman holding a pretty parasol. In this charming place, it might be possible for some to disbelieve the dreadful events unfolding in Paris. But not her. Fear and loss lodged in her heart; a heavy weight she suspected would never lighten.
The carriage rounded a bend. The driver yelled out and pulled on the reins, the horses rearing and plunging.
“What is it?” Verity thrust her head out of the window.
A rider blocked their way. She was riding bare-back, with her linen gown hitched up over her thighs.
“Mon dieu!Henrietta!” Verity called. “How did you manage to get ahead of us?”
The roan danced away from the carriage horses. Henrietta brought the horse back with a firm hand. “I borrowed your uncle’s mare and took the trail through the woods. I need to know what you intend to do.”
Despite the danger, Verity half-suspected Henrietta had begun to enjoy the freedom this escapade afforded her. “I told you. I am going in search of news of my father.”
Henrietta’s eyes narrowed. “What if you must make a choice between my father and yours?”
“I promise you, nothing I do will endanger you or your father. Have I not done enough to earn your trust?”
Henrietta tilted her head, her eyes filled with doubt. “You may find yourself in a very difficult position.”
“I will not betray you. You must believe me, Henrietta.”
“Then I’ll await your return. If you don’t return in a day or so, my father will learn the truth. Then he can decide what to do.” Henrietta turned the horse and galloped away.
“The woods are not safe!” Verity shouted after her. Exasperated, Verity watched Henrietta disappear among the trees without looking back. That girl was so stubborn and willful it was entirely possible she’d chosen not to heed her warning.
Was this driver trustworthy, or would he tell the guards in the village? She considered the wisdom of offering him a small bribe from her diminishing purse, but decided against it. That would only make him more curious.
* * *
Henrietta cantered along the woodland path between the oaks, beeches, and chestnut trees, scattering leaves over the ground. The horse pricked up its ears and tossed its head. She patted her neck. “What is it? A fox?”
Out of the corner of her eyes she saw shadows moving through the trees. Sensing danger she urged the mare on, taking an overgrown path. Henrietta ducked her head as low branches whipped by her. They splashed across a stream. At the top of a rise, the horse pulled up. Men’s voices rang out alarmingly close. A warning shiver traveled down her spine. She patted the horse’s neck, chose a narrow gap in the undergrowth, and nudged her flank. This time the mare obeyed, jumping a moss-covered log. Back on the trail again she rode on, scattering leaves, pebbles, and dirt in their wake. Ahead, sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, creating a patch of brilliant green in the gloom and they burst out into a meadow.
Should she be followed, Henrietta wasn’t about to lead the men to the cottage. She urged the horse forward. They vaulted a low fence and galloped across the meadow. She took cover behind a copse of beeches and watched the rim of forest. No one followed. She rode home, confident she’d lost them.
By the time, Henrietta dismounted and led the horse through the gate to the stables, her confidence had evaporated. She removed the bit from the horse’s mouth and hung the bridle back on the hook. She brushed the mare down and led her into a stall. Could her reckless action have brought unwanted attention to François’ door? There was nothing for it. She had to warn her father.
He sat alone in the parlor. He put a finger to his lips and led her outside. “Now, what happened?”
Her father listened, while she blurted it out from beginning to end.
“My dear girl.” He brushed a finger over on her cheek. “It’s because of you and Verity that I’m standing here. Promise you’ll be careful, Hetta. You are not at home in the English countryside. We don’t know who these men are. Stay within sight of the house. Wait for Verity to return.”
They wandered along the garden path. “We’ll decide what to do then. While we remain here it endangers François, and I don’t wish to test the man’s commitment by overstaying our welcome.”
“You don’t trust him, Papa?”
His gaze met hers. “I’ve seen nothing to cause me to distrust him. Why?”
“I’m not sure.” Henrietta was still debating whether to tell her father the truth about the reason behind Verity’s trip to London. She said she would wait and, so she must. And she’d hate to upset him when he was already in low spirits. But there was something she had to confess. She took a deep breath. “Papa, I have something to tell you.”
“Dear heaven, you look so stricken. What is it, Hetta?”
“I gave away the Beaumont sapphires to buy your escape.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You did?” He threw his head back and laughed. “How resourceful you are.” Relieved, she grinned as he enfolded her in a hug. “When we return to London, I’ll have a matching set made for you.”
“They were very nice jewels.” She was delighted to have impressed him.
Her thoughts returned to François. Something in his manner made her doubt him although she couldn’t pinpoint the reason. He would hardly be described as a charming man. He reminded her of the groom once in her father’s employ. She’d always felt odd around him too, and when he was caught red-handed selling property he’d stolen from them, her instincts had been proven to be right. But everyone else seemed able to trust François. In a life and death situation, she needed more than her instincts to go by.
She needed proof.
