Glancing toward the ground again, she spoke in a breathy tone. “By marrying Luc, I fulfill all the qualifications for membership in the women’s club we used to joke about as kids. Perhaps I’ll join next time I’m in England. Good-bye, John.”
She tried to step away, but Luc turned her toward him and gave her a deep and thorough kiss that Alex accepted. He helped her into the back of the car, sliding the crutches across the back window. When she was settled, Luc, Alex, and their bodyguard drove away, leaving Henry standing alone.
Nothing could have prepared him for the rage threatening to explode from seeing her in another man’s arms. He wanted to lash out at her and at Luc. Instead, he remained on the sidewalk staring at the taillights of the car taking away everything that mattered to him.
He couldn’t get past her marrying Luc. She almost seemed pleased about it. One minute in Henry’s arms and the next in the arms of someone else. And why the hell would he care that she could join a women’s club? He paused.
Not a women’s club, the women’s club.
Henry had to stop underestimating her abilities. She told him all he needed to know. The son of a bitch broke her leg. What else was he threatening to do if she didn’t stay married to him?
…
Alex sat propped in the backseat of the car to stretch her leg out, struggling to hold back the rush of emotion she felt upon seeing Henry. If Luc sensed she had even the slightest attraction toward Henry, let alone this aching love, her beloved earl’s life would be as good as terminated. Still, he consumed her thoughts.
Henry in Paris? Her heart leaped for joy as her brain screamed in horror. He so wanted to be her hero, but the mild-mannered professor hadn’t an ounce of Indiana Jones in his veins. Simon’s Nicola probably alerted them to her whereabouts. His arrival was unwelcome and upsetting.
What happened to him? The bruises couldn’t be older than three or four days. She wanted to remember him sexy and sweet, not beat up and despondent. Her body trembled with too much emotion, too much confusion. She just wanted this nightmare to end. Wrapping her arms around her waist to hold herself together, she stared out the window.
Luc glanced over his shoulder as Pascal drove. “Your cousin seemed surprised to see you.”
“We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”
“An English cousin?”
She shrugged. “Second or third cousin on my mother’s side. Her cousin married some viscount in Leeds and moved her family there two or three decades ago. John is her son. I’ve only seen him a few times.”
They drove to a rural area and down a wooded road to a small stone house, a place that could be located only with knowledge of the area and a clear destination in mind.
Luc stopped his car and waited. “I’ve been impressed by your behavior since your niece’s accident. I like this new side of you. Make sure you continue to cooperate. If you fail me, you lose a family member. I’ll be generous, though—you can choose the person I’ll gun down. Perhaps I can kill Mr. West. He’s in the area and not immediate family.”
She swallowed her fear and nodded. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Good. I’m acquiring two paintings this afternoon. You’re to stay out of the way until authentication is required. Tell me the truth and then return to the car.”
She nodded again.
A black Mercedes drove down the driveway and parked. A small moving van followed. The door of the Mercedes opened and…Simon? Alex tightened the hold around her waist to soothe the fear bubbling up inside her stomach. Dressed in jeans and a black blazer, he wandered toward Luc’s car and waited. He wasn’t wearing his usual smile; instead, tension showed in his stiff posture and slow pace. His hands rested at his sides.
Luc opened Alex’s door, pulling her out. Simon’s eyes widened in a flash of recognition when he saw her. He must not have expected her. Luc tossed her the crutches and then left her alone as he spoke to Simon. They seemed to know each other. Was Simon providing the paintings? She wished she could read people’s intentions as well as her sister Julia could. Would Simon betray her?
The breeze through the trees muffled their conversation. Simon mentioned something about replacing Roman and a delayed flight.
A couple of men she’d never seen before opened the back of the truck and pulled out two large packages wrapped in brown paper. The paintings. The men carried them to the house. Luc motioned Alex to follow them. She hobbled across the gravel driveway, keeping an ear toward Simon and an eye on Luc.
Empty rooms and blank walls greeted her inside the main living area of the house. The men unwrapped the paintings and placed them against the wall, rough enough to chip the corner of one of the frames. She stepped closer to them.
The two paintings had never been cataloged in her vast memory. One artist had painted both of these neoclassical mythological scenes. Oil on canvas with colors and markings dating them to the year 1820 or so. Alex reached out and touched the smooth strokes, looking for anything to indicate a forgery. They were authentic. She recognized the style. The artist had to be Sophie Fremiet, known more as her husband’s model for the sculpture La Marseillaise than for her own impressive work. Alex searched the lower corner of one of the paintings and found the artist’s mark. The delicate nature of the canvases and brutal handling of them depressed her.
Tears streamed down her face. The destruction of art often overwhelmed her senses. She remembered crying for days after learning of a thief who had burned several masterpieces rather than hand them over to the authorities. The memory of the last painting she’d admired flooded her heart and mind. Lady Elizabeth Gillett. Did Henry buy the painting or did she disturb the night enough to throw Henry off his purpose for the trip? She hoped he’d found a way to save the painting and the Ripon Women’s Club.
“Well?” Luc entered the room and stood next to her.