He recognized Arnaud, Remi’s uncle, immediately. “Welcome back.”
“What are you doing here at such a late hour?”
“Do my family and I need a reason to visit my niece?”
Ben tried not to scowl. The last thing he needed was more things to worry about. “Come inside,” he tried. “Make yourself at home.”
“Oh, we have,” Arnaud said jovially.
We?
Ben said nothing else to him as they entered the foyer together. He knew, even before he heard the voices in the parlor, that “we” meant the entire Cuvilyé family. Beline and Hugo were present and accounted for.
“Good morning,” Ben greeted them with a forced smile.
“It took you long enough,” Beline sniffed. “Remi had a terrible fright this evening.”
Ben’s heart leaped in alarm.
“Did she?”
“Elise found her screaming in the study,” Beline said. “I think she had a nightmare.”
Ben moved to go to Remi when Armand stopped him. “You should let her rest,” he said. “Madame Cuvilyé and I also wish to retire.”
“Please feel free to make yourselves comfortable in the guest rooms,” Ben grumbled.
The Cuvilyé family headed upstairs.
Ben had planned to spend the night in the study, but he made haste for the second floor and found himself in front of his own room. Breaking the news about Lamotte’s home would have to wait until morning, especially if it meant that the lawyer was dead and Sylvie was still missing.
Carefully, he opened the door. Ben knew it was improper to walk in on them while they slept, but knowing that Remi had experienced something earlier only encouraged him to check on her. Under the current circumstances, seeing her asleep on her side, breathing softly as her cousin slept beside her was a comfort. After the night he’d had, already sore from the time spent on his horse, kneeling next to her wasn’t nearly as bad.
“Sss cold,” she mumbled.
Ben cracked a smile. Her lashes moved with her eyes; blue-green peeking at him from half-open lids. “Did I wake you?”
“No,” she whispered. “I’m still asleep.”
“Then I am a dream,” he said.
“A beautiful dream,” she hummed. His heart felt soft in his chest, and had Elise not been there, he would have kicked off his boots and crawled into bed with Remi.
“Beline said you had a fright.”
“Mm,” she breathed. “I saw your father...and the fireplace...flames.”
“My father.” His stomach dropped. “Fireplace and flames?”
She couldn’t have known about Lamotte, not yet. But then, she was half-asleep and he wasn’t sure what she meant.
“Bed,” she hummed softly. “Morning…I’ll tell you.”
Ben waited a moment longer until he was sure Remi was asleep again. She said nothing more as her body rose and fell with slow, steady breathing. He leaned forward despite himself and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head. She did not stir again, so he made for the door. To be near, he stayed in the room across from his own and started a fire for himself. When it burned steadily, he sat on the floor and spread out the papers. He spent a few moments straining to read them before he heard Jacques’ footsteps approaching. The other man knocked and invited himself in.
“Horses are put away,” he said plainly. “They’ll be tired tomorrow. We’ll have to delay our search for Sylvie until they’re fully rested.”
“I thought as much.” Ben sighed, setting the papers down. He ran his hands through his hair, exhausted. “I need something strong.”
“Coffee?”
Ben nodded. “And a dash of creme.”
“I’ll return with it shortly.”
He picked up the papers he’d set down and skimmed through them. There were correspondences passed between the lawyer and his father, and a few left between him and Arnaud Cuvilyé. Each suggested a deal that had been brokered between his father and a man in Paris—someone who intended to make a large purchase. Ben guessed it was the same as the receipt he’d found in the study under the piles of paper on the desk.
“What’s this?” he asked aloud when Remi’s name was mentioned.
The passage of funds...hereby sign over the final amount of allowance for the proposed dowry between Edgar Leone II and Arnaud Cuvilyé to broker the marriage between the aforementioned and one Remi Cuvilyé.
Signed at the bottom were four names: Ben’s father, his lawyer, Remi’s uncle, and a man by the name ‘Bernard Cuvilyé.’ He guessed that was her father, who had agreed to sign over his daughter with an allowance, which spoke of her worth to him. It had been a meager sum, but the funds would be used as a payment to Edgar, upfront, for his hand in the sale of expensive wine to a wealthy friend connected to him—a friend that did not exist.
“She was sold,” he said to himself.
His father had bought her outright.
“Learn anything?” Jacques asked when he finally came back, a coffee in hand. He brought a tray along with the cafetière and creme. Ben gestured to a side table as he brought himself to stand.
