“It was right for you to come.” Joseph massaged the scars on his cheek, his back stiff and straight.
“Do you believe that Marcus will follow you? Will he come to Paris?”
“I . . . I think so. He must know I have the letters, and . . .” I bit my lip. By omitting Oliver, I’d had to omit the Hell Hounds, and that meant I was going to have to tell a lie now. But only a little one—
one I could take back later. “I believe . . . that is to say, I’m rather certain Marcus saw me board the steamer. He knows I have left Philadelphia.”
“Good.” Joseph dropped his hand. His scars were tinged with pink from rubbing. “I hope Marcus comes. Is it possible he might have boarded with you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “If Marcus had been on the steamer, I would have known. He would have sought me out.”
“True.” His gaze shifted to the window. “Do you perhaps know when the next steamer departs?”
I frowned, trying to remember what the ticket clerk in Philadelphia had said. “The next direct boat won’t leave for another few days. As for an indirect boat, I haven’t any idea.”
“Nonetheless, he will be at least a week behind you. At best.” His lips twisted up in a slight, private smile. “But when he comes, I will destroy him. This time, Eleanor, I will be prepared.”
Chills slid down my body, and a fresh wave of desire—of hunger to face Marcus once and for all —clawed at my insides. And with it came the faintest flicker of magic, warm in my chest. I almost smiled.
But then a thought occurred to me, something I hadn’t considered yet was possible. “What if
Marcus does not follow? What if he stays in Philadelphia, Joseph?” And uses more magic and spells to reach me from afar.
“If Marcus does not follow,” Joseph answered, his voice barely audible, “then there is only one solution, Eleanor.”
“What?”
“We will go to him.”
The moment Joseph and I reached the bottom of the hotel’s main stairwell on our way to breakfast, a high-pitched squeal broke out.
I jolted, yet before I could calm my heart, we were set upon by a flock of brightly clad girls in all manner of flounce and lace.
“Monsieur Boyer! Monsieur Boyer!”
Pastels and curls swarmed around us, and with no warning, Joseph was yanked away from me. Two breaths later and I was left standing alone, mouth agape.
“Aha!” exclaimed a male voice. “Finally we have found you!”
I jerked my gaze to the foyer. The speaker was an expensively dressed gentleman. He moved down the stairs with the aid of a cane and the stooped posture of an old man—though he couldn’t have been any older than my mother. His dark mustache shone so brightly in the electric lamps that I was certain oil would drip off the long hairs and splatter on his white collar.
On his arm walked a petite, middle-aged woman. She was a full foot shorter than the man, yet if you took into account her enormous coiffure of onyx-black hair, she almost reached his crooked height.
The couple entered into the foyer, and the man bowed gingerly before me.
“I am Monsieur Frédéric LeJeunes, Marquis du Bazillac. And you, Mademoiselle, must be Eleanor
Fitt.” He took my hand and dropped a kiss on the air above it. “Enchanté. ”
“It i-is a pleasure,” I stammered, thrown off by the realization that this was the Spirit-Hunters’ generous benefactor. The exact man I had to woo if I wanted a place to stay.
“Zis is Madame Renée Marineaux,” the Marquis added, nodding to the woman.
She beamed at me, making her angular face almost pretty and her hazel eyes almost golden. It was quite a stunning effect on a woman who seemed unimposing—perhaps even plain—at first glance.
“How do you do?” she murmured.
I bobbed a polite curtsy.
“I was told,” the Marquis began, “by Mademoiselle Chen that you are taking breakfast now, non?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then you must—how do you say?— join us. It is right zis way.” He motioned happily to a set of open doors beyond the foyer, and I couldn’t help but notice how odd his cane was. And beautiful. The handle was made of ivory and carved into the shape of an open hand.
Dragging my eyes from it, I bared a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. Breakfast would be perfect—I cannot wait to try all the French delicacies.”
He barked delightedly and set off toward the restaurant. I glanced back at Joseph, but all I could see was a top hat floating above a sea of feathery bonnets. So I moved after the Marquis. I suppose those are the girls Jie mentioned. . . .
“Where are you residing?” the Marquis asked, cutting into my thoughts.