“Strange.”

“I suspect he met with my father.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Are you certain?”

“It’s mostly speculation on my part, and that’s only because Elise told me he’d made the trip.” Remi grimaced. “She said that Guillaume accompanied him and they went to a bordello somewhere deep in the city. I suppose he didn’t want anyone to know who they were—and if he was meeting my father, they would need to find someplace far away from anyone who might notice him.”

“A bordello?” Ben looked shocked.

“There’s only one place I can think of,” Jacques said as he took up a spot beside the mantle. “It has a reputation for dealing with shady folks. They take money to keep big secrets.”

Ben knew exactly which bordello; he’d only ever gone there one time. “I know the place. The Madame that runs the business is a ruthless money-hound.”

Remi eyed Ben curiously.

“Worry not,” he said quickly. “I went once, and they robbed me blind. I never went back.”

“I’m sure you learned an invaluable lesson.”

By the fire, Jacques coughed to cover his laughter.

Ben wished she was right; unfortunately, he’d learned only to avoid the place. He found better establishments that were worthwhile with women who didn’t look at him like a meal. But the bordellos were in Paris, and he was on an island with Remi again. He was content to quit his habit. In the past, those women had brought him the comfort and companionship he so badly longed for. Remi’s presence in his life softened that ache.

“It’s been a long day.” Ben leaned forward in his chair and covered his face. “I could use a bath.”

“I’ll find Sylvie,” Jacques said, already moving toward the door.

“I’m sorry for your burdens.” Remi reached a hand out to touch his arm.

“They were yours first.” He smiled meekly, moving his hands to his chin. “That was brilliant of you, though. I never would have known otherwise.”

“Thank you.” Remi’s cheeks sparked bright pink. “Part of me wonders if he gave me the book on purpose.”

“Perhaps,” Ben stretched and then stood. “To think that he would do something as risky as forging a sale for that large a sum.”

“There must be a reason for it.”

“Yes, but why?” Ben grasped the back of his neck, massaging the tender muscles. “And where did the money go?”

“There are more questions than answers, aren’t there?”

Ben met Remi’s green-blue eyes. She was tangled up in more than she realized, and it was all thanks to her uncle. “You asked earlier if I saw Lamotte, but I did not tell you why.”

She arched a brow, waiting for him to continue.

“He has a private ledger.” Ben remembered how thick it was, and it made him all the more anxious to get his hands on it. “A large file full of papers and possibly documents about this sham of a sale he set up. I’m certain there’s more to it, but he would not release it to me without you.”

“And you think we need it.”

He nodded. “Without it, we are left to the wolves.”

“I trust your judgment.”

A moment later, Sylvie knocked and announced that Ben’s bath was drawn. She collected the untouched tray and Remi’s cup before excusing herself. She appeared ragged and seemed to be growing worse every day. Ben and Remi shared a sympathetic look as Sylvie left them.

He ran a hand along Remi’s cheek lightly, watching her eyes as they darted across his face. What is she looking for? He wondered. Or rather, what does she see in me?

“Stay here,” he said gently. “Rest as much as you can.”

Before his hand fell away, she grabbed it and pulled it close to her chest.

“What is it?”

“Do you think,” she gasped, sucking in a sharp breath, “that the letters have something to do with Leith?”

Ben hadn’t considered it, but it was not entirely out of the question. He meant to tell her his suspicions regarding Leith’s death but hadn’t had the chance. Unsure of what to do and worried he would upset her further, Ben had decided against sharing. Better to ease her into it once he was sure of his own father’s death. Without proof, he had nothing but layers of speculation.

“Whoever sent those letters…” Remi’s voice strained, and her brows furrowed. “They might have seen him as⁠—”

Her sadness pierced his heart, and he drew her into his arms without a moment’s hesitation. She folded into him, shaking from tears or fear. He could not blame her for either, and he did not deny her the relief that grieving brought. His bath would be cold, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He would stay until every last one of her tears had dried itself against the fabric on his chest.

EXHUMATION

BEN

Placing his father’s casket inside the mausoleum’s stone coffin days ago was difficult with three sets of hands. Removing it with one less man was nearly impossible. More than that, he was glad that he happened to wear the same jacket he’d worn the day they deposited him. Without the key to get in, their trip would have been for nothing.

“Lucky that.” Ben had said to himself when he found it there, cool against his fingers.

“This is damned difficult.” Jacques heaved against the stone after they made it in.

Ben and Jacques used as much force as they could muster to budge the stone lid. When strength alone could not move it, they went in search of a sturdy, fallen branch. With added leverage to fully support the stone, they managed to hoist it. Inch by painful inch, they moved the lid just enough to retrieve his father.

“Remind me why we aren’t doing this during daylight hours?” Jacques grunted.

“Because that would draw too much suspicion.”

Jacques wheezed as he lifted one end of the casket. “Whose suspicion?”

“Remi’s,” Ben said, hoisting the other end of the polished wood. “Martin’s. Everyone’s. It isn’t safe.”

“It isn’t safe now,” Jacques hissed.

With careful precision, they lifted the casket from inside the stone sarcophagus. It sat on the ground between them as they pushed the slab back into place. Once shut, they stopped to catch their breath.

“That was miserable,” Ben groaned.

“It was your idea,” Jacques said.