Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

“I understand you,” she said, “but I am finding it difficult to believe you.”

“Believe me.”

His eyes were dark and deadly serious.

Francesca nodded her head jerkily. “What do you want me to do?” she whispered.

“Wait in the sitting room, and when a certain person comes to join you, engage them in conversation. Be natural. We’ll do the rest.”

Francesca gave a little laugh and covered her mouth. She had just been told that her mother was being poisoned, and now they wanted her to sit and wait for a poisoner to appear, and engage them in conversation. Be natural?

Sebastian turned her away from Dobson, cupping her face in his hands. He was warm and alive, and somehow the feel of him, the sight of him, fed her strength. “Darling girl,” he murmured and, bending, kissed her lips, once, and then again. “Do this. Be brave and strong and it will all be over. I will explain afterward, I promise. But you must trust me now. Do you trust me, Francesca?”

“I trust you,” she said, and she did.

He smiled, but it was a serious smile. “Dobson will show you downstairs. I’ll be about, though.”

She nodded and tried not to cling to him as he stepped away. But she turned her head back on the landing, for a last, comforting glimpse of him. He was watching her, and there was an expression on his face she had never seen before. Deep emotion and determination, and sadness, too.

“I’m sorry,” she said shakily to Dobson. “This must be awful for you. You…you love her very much, don’t you?”

He smiled into her eyes. “Course I do. And Aphrodite knows how much I love her, so I’ve got nothing to prove. It’s you who ’as to make your peace with your mother, Francesca, not me. Now, it’s time.” He squeezed her hand, and Francesca followed him into the sitting room.

Chapter 21

She’d imagined the room as dark and empty, but it wasn’t. Lamps and candles were blazing, and a fire was burning merrily in the hearth. In fact, now she came to look about her, the whole club was full of light, and she could hear music and voices coming from the direction of the salon.

“Is the club open tonight?” she said in disbelief.

“Aphrodite insisted on it,” Dobson replied, “and we do as she tells us. It matters to her that things go on as normal. The club is part of her, and I think if it were to close, then she would lose hope. Now, make yourself comfortable.”

He closed the door so quickly that she suspected he didn’t want her to ask any more questions, or change her mind. Francesca stood for a moment, feeling at a loss, and then she went to the sofa and sat down. The room had an expectant feel, as though at any moment Aphrodite might walk in. Her presence was everywhere, in the elegance of the furnishings, in the Egyptian chair with its sphinx armrests, in the miniatures of her three daughters. Francesca remembered when her mother had asked to have them painted, and how she had railed against her own particular sitting, saying it was a waste of her time.

She shut her eyes, trying not to cry again. She was being self-indulgent. She needed to be strong, like her mother. Aphrodite was one of the strongest women she knew, and she’d only just realized it. Francesca prayed her new appreciation had not come too late.

The tap on the door startled her so much that she came to her feet. Was this the one? Was this the poisoner? But with relief she saw that it was only Maeve. The pretty Irishwoman looked somber, and she was carrying a tray.

“I’m sorry to trouble you, Miss Francesca. Mr. Dobson sent me. I have some coffee, nice and hot and strong. I thought you might be needing it to keep your spirits up.”

The smell of the coffee was delicious, and suddenly Francesca couldn’t wait to sample the reviving brew. “Thank you, Maeve.”

“This is a very sad time for all of us here at the club,” Maeve said, pouring the coffee into a cup and handing it across to her. Francesca noticed then that she had two cups.

“Please, if you have time, do sit with me and have a cup yourself. I don’t want to be alone.” She needed a moment to gather her thoughts, to come to terms with what Sebastian had told her.

Maeve smiled. “Thank you, miss. Mr. Dobson did suggest I stay with you awhile, but I didn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding, Maeve, I’m glad of your company. My mother is sleeping, and I don’t really know what I’m still doing here, but…I don’t want to go home.” She wondered if Maeve knew about the poisoner, but thought it best not to mention it.

Maeve sat down on the sofa beside her, and gave Francesca a tentative glance. “If Madame leaves us, then what will happen to her club? She’s the heart and soul of this place. There’s no one can take her place. It’ll be like an empty shell without her. I really don’t know what we will do.” She looked down at the coffee in her hands, and then changed her mind and put the cup back on the tray.

“Dobson says she’s the strongest person he knows,” Francesca said, willing herself to believe it. Her sisters had told her that the club had been Maeve’s home for many years. If she lost Madame and her home, what would she do? Where would she go? “That won’t happen, you know,” Francesca spoke to herself as much as Maeve. “I mean, whatever happens, the club will stay. My sister, Marietta, will take it over.”

Maeve said nothing. She looked as if she might burst into tears, and she turned her face away so that Francesca could not see her grief.

In that moment there was something familiar about her, something that niggled at Francesca’s memory, and it had nothing to do with Aphrodite’s Club. Francesca searched her mind, trying to remember what it was, but the urgency faded as the silence stretched out.

“She’s been so kind to me,” Maeve whispered. “I pray she’d understand if she knew why I did…” But she shook her head and didn’t go on with whatever she’d been about to say. “Never mind,” she said instead. “I’m rambling. Please forgive me. Do you want more coffee? I think Henri has some of his special little cakes in the kitchen pantry. He locks them away but I can always find them.”