“She was wrong! Her husband came back from the dead and found us together.”

“That’s awful.” Remi frowned.

“Awful? Non, non, cherie. It was an excellent night!” Leith grinned devilishly. “He found us together, breathed a great big breath, and dove right into bed with us! Two weeks at sea will do that to a man, you know.”

“Leith!” Remi gasped but could not hide her smile. She tucked her reddened face behind both of her hands again and pressed them to her warm skin.

“Too much for my delicate Remi?” He laughed, shaking his head. “I apologize, ma cherie. You know me, I’m not a serious man.”

“Not at all.”

Though his stories were lewd at times, she enjoyed them nevertheless. He was an excellent storyteller, and with his dulcet tone, he could be mesmerizing. After the fiasco in the dining room and the number of people milling around inside, the garden and Leith’s company were a welcome distraction.

“I don’t mean to be crass. I only meant to brighten you a little, perhaps add a bit of color to your pale cheeks.” Leith leaned closer, lending her his warmth and comfort. “I hope you know how deeply sorry I am for your loss.”

“I do,” Remi said, patting his hand on the bench between them. “Thank you for coming. It means a great deal to me.”

“Of course. Anything for you,” he breathed.

A long, silent moment passed between them. Remi’s peace was somewhat restored.

“I should return,” she sighed, reluctant to leave so soon after settling. “I’ve spent too much time away, and someone will take notice. If it’s Beline and she finds me here with you, she’ll be cross.”

Leith grinned. “Because I’m so charming?”

“No,” Remi said as she stood, patting the skirt of her gown. Leith offered her veil, and she took it gingerly. “Because you’re so annoying.”

“Charming, annoying. What is the difference?” He shrugged.

Remi hid her smile behind black lace as she placed the hat on her head and pinned it in place. “With you? There is no difference.”

Taking his arm, Remi guided them through the garden and back into the house, reluctantly leaving serenity behind.

THE NOTE

BEN

“You’re like a dog.”

“What makes you say that?” Ben asked.

“You haven’t stopped watching her,” Jacques replied.

Ben narrowed his eyes. “With good reason.”

He couldn’t help but notice that Remi appeared worse and worse as the day went on. She was gray in pallor, matching the shade of the curtains in the parlor. Even the shine of her hair dulled in color. Madame Leone, for all of her efforts to maintain her appearance, could have been a ghost the way she carried on. Anyone else watching wouldn’t have noticed the small slips in her mask—but Ben was keenly aware of her every move throughout the day.

“You could just talk to her. A simple conversation could clear the air between the two of you,” Jacques suggested.

“I could.”

Jacques groaned. “But you won’t.”

No, he wouldn’t, and it agitated him like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He should have written her off after the incident in the study, yet he was drawn to her more than ever.

Ben found himself unsettled when she frowned, tapping his foot, crossing and uncrossing his arms; he could barely hold a conversation without listening or looking for her. Eventually, it reached a peak. He’d kept a close eye on her after she escaped to the garden, joined by another man. Hidden from their view, he’d caught snippets of their conversation and wondered if he was her lover. It would have enraged him, though he wasn’t entirely sure why, had he not caught the same fellow advancing on another woman later in the day.

Shameless, but seemingly harmless.

It was another matter entirely when two unfamiliar men stopped him and introduced themselves as Remi’s family.

“Arnaud Cuvilyé. My companion here is Hugo Marchand.” A man with graying brown hair and a similar disposition to Beline held out his hand to Ben. He waited with an expectant look on his lined face, a forced smile pulling at his thin lips. “I’m Remi’s uncle. No doubt you’ve met my wife.”

“Re-acquainted,” Ben corrected, “as we are now.”

Arnaud retracted his hand when Ben did not take it, though he maintained his calm demeanor. “She said you gave her some trouble earlier.”

“Trouble? I simply reminded her of whose home this is.”

“Ah. Well, she can be emphatic at times,” Remi’s uncle mustered.

“Is that at all?” Ben looked between the two men. Hugo, red-headed and red-faced, glared outright. He didn’t like the sharp pinch of Marchand’s face or the haughty expression that his counterpart wore.

“Well,” Arnaud started, “I had hoped to speak with you on my own.”

“We,” Hugo quickly corrected. “We have some unfinished business with your father. A debt to be settled, if you will.”

Arnaud nodded. “In private, perhaps?”

Ben grimaced as the chatter died down around them. Attention shifted as mourners closest to them took notice.

“I can’t imagine any business of my father’s is important enough to discuss now,” Ben sneered, “considering he’s dead, lying face up in the parlor.”

One of Beline’s tea ladies gasped. Ben recognized a feathered hat as it bobbed above the other guests. Behind its plumage, he caught a distinct flash of blue-green. Remi forced herself into the tableau seconds later, grim-faced and gray.

“What’s all this then?” she asked politely. “Uncle? Ben?”

The way Hugo’s face softened at her arrival shocked Ben. Through less gritted teeth than before, Marchand addressed her gently, “Nothing you need concern yourself with.”

“I see,” Remi turned her gaze from him to her uncle. “Is there somewhere more private we could move this conversation? Perhaps the study? No need to upset the guests any more than they are.”

“Happy to oblige,” Ben said flatly.

“Perfect.” Remi nodded. “Uncle, Tante Beline was looking for you a moment ago. You might humor her with your presence. I believe she would like to step into the parlor now.”

Arnaud’s disappointment was clear for Ben to see. He wanted to be part of the conversation as much as Hugo likely wanted to put a hole in the wall.

“Alas, marital duties,” Ben said with feigned sympathy and a tight smile.