Helena stared at him. How did he know? She tipped up her chin and looked down her nose at him. “I will retrieve your uncle’s property as I see fit—you need not let my methods concern you.”
With a dismissive nod, she swept past him to her door, opened it, and went in.
Louis stood still, staring after her. When the door clicked shut, he turned and headed for his room.
Villard was waiting. “Well?”
Louis shut his room door, ran his hands through his hair. “She says she will do it.”
“Bon! Then all is progressing, and there is no reason you cannot write and tell monsieur le comte—”
“No!” Agitated, Louis paced before the hearth. Then he flung up his hands. “Marriage! Whoever would have imagined? Fabien said St. Ives had publicly decreed he would not wed, and that was years ago! Now suddenly the talk is of a wedding!”
By the bed folding shirts, Villard looked down. After a moment he murmured, “From what you said, it seems unlikely marriage was on monsieur le duc’s mind, not until you directed those others into the library . . .”
Louis missed the malicious glance Villard slanted his way. “Precisely!” He continued to pace. “But what could I do? He would have had her there and then—and then what? Retired merrily to his estate for Christmas, without her. No. I had to stop him—and better those others than me. He would have been alerted had I gone in.”
Villard’s lip curled; he looked down at the shirts.
“I tell you, I had palpitations when I heard what everyone was whispering. No one cared about the masquerade anymore—all the talk was of St. Ives marrying!”
“I believe it is something of a coup, which is why, perhaps, a word to monsieur le comte—”
“No, I tell you! No! Things are back on track now. Helena knows what she must do—and she is not a fool, that one. She will not risk monsieur le comte’s displeasure. She will not give herself to St. Ives.”
“From your description, I thought she had.”
“No. I am sure . . . He must have overwhelmed her. His reputation is formidable. Although I would have thought . . .” Louis frowned, then waved his tangled thoughts aside. “No matter. It is settled. She will not fail, nor will she give in to St. Ives—not now.”
Villard studied the neat pile of shirts and let the silence grow. Then he said, “What if—purely a supposition—what if she accepts him?”
“She hasn’t. I would have heard of it. But even if she needs to do so, to lead him to believe all is progressing as it should, then weddings for such as they are take months to arrange. And they’d have to get Fabien’s permission. Huh!”
The thought cheered Louis. He actually smiled.
Villard drew breath, lifted his head. “Do you not think it might be wise to warn monsieur le comte?”
Louis shook his head. “No need to start hares. All is proceeding as Fabien wished. The matter of this marriage is incidental.” Louis gestured contemptuously. “There is no need to fuss, and Fabien won’t care. As long as he gets his dagger back—that is all he cares about.”
Villard silently exhaled, picked up the pile of shirts, and carried them to the wardrobe.
Helena sat at Sebastian’s right at the breakfast table the next morning. As she buttered a piece of toast, she mentally recited what she had to do.
She had to hold Sebastian off, keep him at arm’s length; Louis had been right about that. She had to find and take Fabien’s dagger. And then she had to flee. Fast. Because nothing was surer than that Sebastian would come after her.
There would be no point taking the dagger, then trying to brazen it out. A dagger he’d taken from a French nobleman goes missing while a French noblewoman was visiting? Half a second, she estimated, would be all it would take for him to figure that out.
She would have to leave him and run.
He would be furious. He would see her act as a betrayal.
He’d assume she’d been part of Fabien’s plot all along . . .
The realization had her raising her head, then she blocked off her thoughts—reached for the jam. Set her jaw.
Nothing else mattered but saving Ariele. She had no choice; she couldn’t afford to let any other consideration sway her.
The Thierrys and Clara were discussing a walk in the gardens; Louis had yet to appear.