But he’d dropped his own guard unintentionally. And he’d liked more than he ought the simple act of having her in his arms, the smell of her hair in his nose with her warmth against him. He’d have preferred not subjecting himself to this present introspection, but circumstances larger than his own discomfort demanded objectivity.
He’d looked down into her face just as light touched it and... Christ, what did it say about his morals that she’d only just finished reliving aloud the week of her husband’s death?
No chaste kiss of comfort, on his side, had it happened. He was a cad for even thinking it, but it also didn’t stop him wanting her. And her breath had caught, audibly. She hadn’t turned away;hehad.
She wasn’t someone to trifle with casually. She deserved better than that.
It was bloody inconvenient, the quicksilver awareness that crackled between them. Touching—kissing, even—before leaving for Café de Foy had been practical. But also unwise? Because now his motivations were no longer related only to his work.
With some difficulty, he recalled himself to his current surroundings and found Amélie’s maid gone and Amélie watching him. Had she asked him something?
“Ah, you are back with us once more,” she said lightly before turning to Isobel. “Now you must tell me of your little meeting last night with Étienne. You showed him your sister’s miniature, I comprehend.”
“Yes. He thought Lucy might perhaps look familiar, but if he has seen her, he did not know from where.”
“That was for you most disappointing, I am sure,” Amélie said gently.
“Yes.” Isobel looked down at her coffee bowl. “Although I suppose I shouldn’t have hoped for more.”
“Are you determined still in your own mind to do this, to continue an active part in these investigations?”
“I am.” Isobel’s voice was steady although she still looked at her coffee rather than at Amélie. “I will accompany Nathaniel to Frascati’s tonight to see what I may learn there. Even if it is nothing.”
“Then we have work we must do together. And if I might say without rudeness, you look very tired,ma chère.Perhaps you will wish to rest a little more now that you have finished your coffee and had a small bite to eat? And then we shall put our heads together,oui? But first I have matters to discuss with Nathaniel.”
Isobel thanked her, departing with only a small glance at him.
After Isobel absented herself, Amélie turned her attention to him. “You are quite far away this morning,mon cher.And also you are the smallest bit... rumpled.” Her lips curved up. “I had considered whether it is polite to mention this”—he snorted at that—“but the buttons of your waistcoat are askew.”
He frowned down at the garment; he had indeed misbuttoned it. “It was a late night,” he said shortly.
“Mmm.” Amélie’s expression did not change.
His fingers were tapping the arm of the chair. He stilled them. “Are you inquiring—with rather less than your usual subtlety, I may add—if anything transpired between us?” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You may rest assured nothing did.”
Amélie regarded him, remarking at length, “So you did not make love to her. However I do not believe that nothing passed between you. I have met many men in both these occupations ofmine. You know this. I have, with time and necessity, learned to understand them by what they do not say as much as by that they do. You are a most careful man with your face, always, to keep from it your thoughts, but this morning even you are not so difficult to read.”
He looked at Amélie consideringly, and she laughed.
“Isobel has nightmares,” he said abruptly. He’d not meant to discuss it, truly. “One woke her the night I brought her to the garret. The first night. She’s had more. And they were... worse.”
Amélie took a sip of her coffee.
“We spoke of them this morning,” he finished tersely. “At some length. And then I brought her here.”
“And so you did not take her to bed last night. A good man would not, with these nightmares. However, you wish to do so,” Amélie stated.
He refrained from answering. It would do no good to deny it, but neither would he admit it aloud, even to Amélie.
She sighed, signaling a change in subject. “And what is your opinion of how it went with you last night at the Palais-Royal with Isobel andle belÉtienne?”
“He did his utmost to charm her.” What a remark to lead withthatwas.I need to focus.
“But of course he did. Étienne is one for the ladies, always.”
Yes, Baudelaire’s pursuits were somewhat legendary, and only sometimes part of his work.
“What did our M.Baudelaire make of her?” Amélie asked.
