“Aye. It will raise suspicions if I return but remain uninterested in what’s on offer. If it’s believed I have a woman of my own, it will be somewhat less so.”
“That woman being . . . me.”
“Aye, for appearances. Not in truth, obviously.”
She recalled what he’d led with in this conversation. “You said you think it might serve my own interests as well. In what way?”
“Most nights I’m in one gambling salon or another. Other men bring their companions.”
She followed now. “Sometimes women are freer with gossip than men. I could ask after Lucy.”
“If you have an opening without exposing yourself to risk.”
“I can exercise discretion.”
His mouth lifted slightly. “Aye, but you won’t have your veil.”
She smiled at the teasing before saying, “I might glean information that will be helpful to you as well, yes? Matters men might not speak of with one another but might let slip to their women? Or information about the men themselves?”
“Aye. Another possibility.”
“You must take some time to think about this,” Amélie interjected.
For a moment she’d all but forgotten Amélie was in the room, so focused had the conversation become between herself and Nathaniel.
“Even if it is not tonight, there will be other opportunities,” Amélie continued.
“No.” Decisively. Confidently too, she hoped, although her heart rate suggested less certainty. “No, I do not need time to think. I will do it. Gladly. Only I may need some coaching first. I must look to the two of you for that.” She laughed a little. “The life of a cavalry wife has ill prepared me for intrigues.”
“And yet I believe you will do very well,” Amélie said, “with your instincts and your heart. Already you have been investigating on your own.”
Such as she could. Which reminded her: “I completed translation of my notes, all of them, not only those directly pertaining toCompton. I do not know if you will find the remainder of any use, but I thought it best that you have a complete picture. Especially as you have agreed to aid my search for Lucy.” She was still afraid to hope for too much. “Shall I fetch them now?”
“Sometimes the smallest detail is of critical importance,” Nathaniel said. “So aye, if you would. I will read through them further this afternoon and will share their contents with Étienne Baudelaire, if I may, to whom I will introduce you tonight.”
His gaze lingered a moment as she stood, the silk gown clinging to her. Not gratitude for the translations, although there was perhaps some of that in his eyes, but appreciation of a man for a woman; the prickle of awareness that chased up her arms informed her even had her eyes missed it.
He turned away, and she left the room, unaccountably flushed.
“More coffee,mon cher?” Amélie asked.
“Sil te plâit.”
Amélie refilled Nate’s bowl and brought it to him. She prepared herself a second bowl, adding milk from a small pitcher. She carried it with her to a nearby chair, sinking gracefully onto the cushion. She reclined against the back, facing him.
“You will want to step carefully,” she said after studying him.
He could guess the lecture coming. “In what way?”
“With your mademoiselle Isobel.”
Amélie might appear to the casual observer nothing more than a beautiful courtesan, but outward appearances merely served as a distraction from her keen mind, a trait she had put to use many times over with men more guileless than himself.
He’d be damned before he admitted a thing. “I will do all that is possible to keep her safe.”Other than involving her, that is.
“I do not doubt you will.” Considerable irony laced Amélie’s voice. “Seeing the direction in which is your interest of her.”
“Anything other than the job at hand is a complication I’ve no wish for myself,” he said curtly.
