He waited unblinkingly until, with obvious reluctance, she dipped her chin in a nod.
Madame Aubert’s eyes on him were fixed, and almost pleading. She wanted him to stop this line of questioning.
And then he thought he knew why: she was suffering guilt.
He lowered his voice. “Is Tuesday your day off?”
The same day off Brundage’s servants were given.
So Lady Aurelie had been alone with Brundage.
That sense of unease plucked at him again. He changed tactics.
Gently, he said, “I do not wish to alarm you, Madame Aubert—and I don’t personally believe it—but I have been made aware of some concerns about... how do I put this delicately... the nature of your character.”
“Mycharacter?” she repeated. Stunned.
“I have heard a rumor—probably scurrilous—that you may, in fact, be selling your clothing and Lady Aurelie’s clothing. The popular theory is that you have gambling debts to settle. It has been noted that your wardrobe has changed in the past few weeks. Specifically, you have not been seen in clothing you normally wear. It has also been suggested that in order to settle your debts you may have caused some harm to Lady Aurelie in order to steal from her.”
And then violent color rushed into her cheeks and then out again, until the rouge stood out in red patches against stark white.
Her mouth dropped as she struggled for air. For words.
“I would never... upon my life... I swear upon my mother’s grave...hurtLady Aurelie?” she stammered, clearly genuinely horrified. “Sacred Mother. Gambling debts! I have never gambled in my life.”
He had, of course, wished to scare the devil out of her. It was the best way to breach ironclad loyalty.
He said nothing.
Her slim shoulders moved with her swift, noisy breaths. Her eyes were huge, hunted, and furious.
And then he witnessed, in the gradual slackeningof her features, a calm that came with a certain kind of surrender.
He waited patiently.
“She isnota stupid or impulsive girl, Mr. Hawkes.” It sounded like the beginning of a narrative. “She is clever and thoughtful.”
“So youdoknow for certain that she left of her own accord.”
She hesitated again. She was suffering greatly. He admired her fortitude, but it didn’t mean he was going to give her any quarter.
“If you do not reply directly, I will assume the answer is ‘yes.’ And let me remind you that the longer you delay in sharing information with me, the more danger she could be in. The world can be an inhospitable place for a young woman alone, Madame Aubert.”
She gave a short, hard laugh. “Oh, yes, better that men should protect them,” she said bitterly.
He said nothing. Primarily because he wasn’t certain what to say, which was a rare occurrence for a mind accustomed to swiftly finding an angle and exploiting it.
She would not answer the questions this statement raised; of that he was certain.
The answers were not germane to his goal, which was to quickly find Aurelie. And yet he could feel them as a sort of tightening, a pressure, in his chest.
“Oh! I havehere,” he said lightly, offhandedly, pretending to suddenly remember, reaching into his coat pocket, “a list of all dresses and cloaks Lady Aurelie ordered from her modiste over the past two years. Color and style and fabric and trim. Hats and furbelows and whatnot. Would you be so kind as to show me where they are kept, so I can ascertain which dresses she took with her? It will make her easier tolocate, you see, when we inevitably fish her body from the Thames after she’s been murdered for her jewelry.”
She froze. She took them from him as if he’d extended a dead fish.
She stared at them, her head lowered. For a good long time.
He could see the pulse beating in her throat.
