‘He did not need to do so,’ Lisette continued impatiently. ‘It was to be expected, when I am the daughter of a known conspirator against your English Crown. Except now I am expected to believe that you will not lock me in chains after all, because you are mon père.’ She gave a shake of her head. ‘I cannot so easily adjust to all these sudden changes in my life.’
‘Nor should you be expected to do so.’ Christian decided it was time—past time—that he intervened on Lisette’s behalf. ‘Madame Rousseau, Lord Maystone, I suggest for the moment that Lisette remains here at Sutherland House with me. That she be given time in which to...to come to terms with these sudden changes in her circumstances so that she might then make an educated judgement as to which life suits her best, England or France.’
‘Impossible!’
‘Impossible!’
At last the older couple seemed to agree on something. Even if it was Christian’s suggestion that Lisette should remain here with him.
It was an impossible solution; he had known that before making it. Wanting something did not make it so.
Just as he knew his reasons for making it were totally selfish ones.
He simply could not bear the thought of losing Lisette, of the two of them becoming polite strangers to each other.
‘Madame Rousseau.’ He turned to look at her between narrowed lids. ‘You knew Lisette had come to my home that night in Paris, so why did you not do more to prevent her from travelling to England with me?’
‘I followed on the next available ship—’
‘Why did you wait at all, when the two of you had argued— I do not appreciate the fact that you struck Lisette, by the way,’ he added darkly.
‘It was a mistake—an impulse— She is so headstrong, I could not make her see reason,’ Helene admitted heavily. ‘I deeply regret ever striking you, Lisette. I only wanted to save you from...from making a fool of yourself, as I did over your father.’ She shot Maystone a scathing glance.
Christian did not wish to begin that particular argument all over again. ‘That still does not explain why you allowed Lisette to come to England with me and then followed her.’
Helene’s chin rose. ‘I came here to take her back with me, of course.’
‘Why?’
‘Pourquoi?’ she repeated. ‘I do not understand...’
Christian sighed. ‘You do not even acknowledge Lisette as being your daughter, so why would you even bother following her and trying to take her back to Paris with you? Why did you abduct her? In order to bring Maystone to you? So that you might kill him?’ Christian continued determinedly. ‘Or was it for another reason entirely?’
Helene’s eyes narrowed on Maystone. ‘He deserves to die. He made love to me then returned to his wife without giving me a second thought, and left me with child!’
Christian’s mouth twisted wryly as he glanced at Lisette. ‘You really are your mother’s daughter.’
Lisette felt the colour heat her cheeks at the memory of the insults she’d thrown at Christian just yesterday.
It seemed so much longer than just a single day had passed since she verbally vented her anger at Christian at the inn in Portsmouth.
So much had happened in the past thirty-six hours that she really did feel at a loss to comprehend it, to take it all in, let alone make a life-changing decision.
Quite what Christian made of it all she did not like to hazard a guess.
He now gave a shake of his head. ‘There must have been any number of opportunities for you to...dispose of Maystone these past twenty years, madame. Why should you feel such a need to make him suffer now? To exact your revenge? To think of killing him? Or was it for another reason entirely that you wished to introduce Lord Maystone to his daughter?’
‘I do not— He is not— Bah!’ Helene threw up her hands in disgust.
Christian gave a rueful grimace. ‘Can it be that, in your own way, you do love your daughter? That you wish only the best for her? Even if you have now realised that best is not with you in a tavern in Paris?’
Lisette looked sharply at the woman who had given birth to her; she still could not think of her as her mother. Helene continued to look at Christian, eyes glittering.
‘I remember the night we all met at your tavern in Paris, madame,’ Christian continued softly. ‘Your threat to shoot me—a habit you really should think of breaking!—if I should even think of laying so much as a hand upon Lisette.’
Colour darkened Helene’s cheeks. ‘You— I— You are an English spy!’
‘At that moment I was only a man looking at your daughter with lustful eyes.’ He shrugged as Lisette gave a shocked gasp. ‘I’m first and foremost a man, Lisette,’ he excused drily. ‘And that night you stood out as pure as a rose amongst lesser, bruised blooms.’