‘He looks a very fierce gentleman,’ Lisette commented softly after giving an anxious glance back at the two men following close behind them.
‘He has...been under a great deal of strain these past few weeks,’ Christian excused.
‘How old is his grandson?’
‘Just eight.’
‘Mon Dieu,’ she breathed softly. ‘If Helene is guilty of ordering his kidnapping—’
‘I believe that she is, yes,’ Christian confirmed grimly.
She sighed heavily. ‘Then once Lord Maystone knows the truth, he cannot help but feel it only just that Helene’s child should be made to pay for her crimes. The “sins of the father” or, in this case, mother,’ she added with a grimace.
‘You cannot believe that any more than I,’ Christian rebuked her.
She gave another of those Gallic shrugs. ‘It is how I would feel if I were Lord Maystone.’
‘Then I suggest you keep that opinion to yourself,’ Christian came back with soft impatience as he turned to greet his butler. ‘Miss Duprée would prefer to keep her cloak on for the moment, Evans,’ he informed the elderly man as he reached to take the garment from her.
Lisette smiled her apology at the elderly butler even as her cheeks coloured a becoming pink.
No doubt at the memory of why she needed to continue to wear that cloak.
In truth, Christian felt slightly ashamed of his behaviour towards her in his carriage. He was a man usually in complete control, of himself as well as others, but where Lisette was concerned, it seemed he constantly lost every shred of that control.
And he defied anyone, least of all himself, to attempt to put any control on the stubbornly determined young lady he now knew Lisette to be...
‘Refreshments in the library, if you please, Evans,’ Christian instructed as he continued to limp his way into and through the cavernous entrance hall of his London residence.
Christian had chosen the library in which to talk, for two reasons.
Firstly, Lisette had found his house in France overwhelming and Sutherland House was even more so. The library was one of the less imposing rooms in the house, and the place where Christian usually spent his evenings at home relaxing by the fire, reading a book or dealing with correspondence.
His second reason—the library was his place of business, and he preferred any conversation with Aubrey Maystone to be completely that.
Despite Lisette’s earlier observation, Christian believed the older man looked less strained than he had before Christian left for France. No doubt because he had now had the chance to enjoy the safe return and company of his only grandson, even if that abduction still played heavily on his mind.
Now all Christian had to do, once he had revealed Lisette’s true identity, was to convince Maystone that she had no knowledge of or involvement in that kidnapping!
The first he would do carefully, so as not to cause a reaction that would frighten Lisette any more. After which he would explain how Lisette had not even known Helene Rousseau was her mother until just a few short months ago.
Lisette waited only long enough for the butler to leave the room and close the door behind him before crossing to where Lord Maystone stood in front of the window looking out into the garden at the back of the house.
She drew in a deep breath, determined to have her say and not allow herself to be overwhelmed by this imposing house and its liveried servants. Or the three gentlemen with whom she shared the room. Although that was a little harder to do when two of them were dukes and the third a lord.
Lisette straightened her shoulders determinedly. ‘I cannot tell you how sorry I am for all that you have endured, m’lord.’ That gentleman’s eyes widened in obvious surprise, no doubt because she spoke to him in French as she reached out and took both of his hands in her own. ‘Your grandson has not suffered any lasting effects from his ordeal, I hope?’ she prompted anxiously.
‘Good Lord, Sutherland, she’s French!’ the older man gasped, obviously shocked.
‘I have often remarked upon Maystone’s powers of observation, have I not, Christian?’ Marcus Wilding drawled from where he had made himself comfortable in a chair beside the lit fireplace.
‘Now is not the time for levity, Marcus,’ Christian warned.
‘I am indeed French, m’lord, and my name is Lisette Duprée.’ She gave a small curtsy as she continued to concentrate on the man before her rather than the conversation of the two gentlemen behind her. ‘I am also—’
‘My ward,’ Christian put in hastily.
‘Your ward...?’ Lord Maystone echoed faintly, appearing totally bewildered by these introductions.