A Daughter's Destiny Read Online Free

gaped open. Even the plants edging the window had been tipped over.
    She shivered as memory burst upon her as viciously as the black-haired man’s blow. “Two men came in here and did this. Did you send them?”
    â€œMe? Why do you think I sent them?”
    Evan Somerset tried to be patient when Brienne did not answer him, but he could think of only one reason why she would accuse him of having a hand in this. He hoped he was wrong.
    She lurched to the window. Kneeling, she set a plant on the sill. Her shoulders quivered, but when he put his hands on them, she shook them off. She stood and crossed the room, clearly trying to keep as much distance between them as possible.
    Pretty Brienne LeClerc was anxious to be rid of him. Pretty … she was that. Her trim figure was outlined so perfectly by her plain gown. She did not need the bows and flounces that decorated the frocks worn by the élite . Her loosened hair cloaked her in an ebony sheen, tempting his fingers to entangle in it. How soft it had been when it had draped over his arm as he carried her into the kitchen!
    He went to the sideboard. It had been knocked onto its side and one leg broken off. Ramming his fist against his other palm, he wished he could find the blackguards who had attacked this salon … and Brienne. He would find them. Then they would rue this.
    He knew who was responsible for this. Evan Somerset. How could he have been so stupid? That he had come to L’Enfant de la Patrie twice must have tipped his hand. He had been a complete idiot not to expect competition. Lagrille trusted him as much as England trusted Napoleon.
    The vase! If those men had the vase now, he should be giving chase.
    Instead, he went to where Brienne was struggling to lift a table back onto its legs. Without a word, he set it upright. He smiled as she held out his ruined hat. Taking it, he poked his fingers through the holes. “What did they want, Brienne?”
    â€œAin’t it obvious?” At the deep, frigid voice, Evan turned to meet the iron gray eyes of the man entering the salon.
    Evan recognized the stench of authority. Although he usually found it prudent to stay far from any forces of the law, he did not move. He recalled a headmaster who once had tried to daunt him with a superior scowl such as this. That teacher had suffered many cruel tricks before Evan had ended their mutual duress by leaving school on a moonless night.
    â€œI am Evan Somerset,” he said with a cool smile. “Who are you?”
    â€œHaviland. I oversee the watch here.”
    â€œDo you? Then, what pub were you hiding in instead of protecting this woman and her business as you are paid to do?”
    Brienne surprised him by saying, “If you gentlemen wish to talk, please do it outside. I must restore my salon for my patrons.”
    â€œLet us help,” said Haviland so kindly Evan chuckled under his breath. The watchman must be smitten with Brienne, although not enough to risk his skin.
    As Haviland seated Brienne at the table, she hunched her shoulders to avoid touching him. Good. She was sensible. Haviland would be no help, but Evan had to make certain that calling in the Bow Street Runners was not suggested. Those lads might find the men who had done this before he could. That would lead to all kinds of complications.
    He had to get that vase! Even a piece of it would be enough. Why, he had no idea. Nor did he care, for all he wanted was to find the vase, collect his pay, and go on to his next assignment, which he would make sure was less complicated than this one was becoming.
    Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms over his chest in a negligent pose guaranteed to bring out the worst in Haviland.
    Haviland glowered at him. “What in the hell—Excuse me, Miss Laclerk. What are ye doin’ here, Somerset?”
    â€œThis is a place of public business. I came here on business.”
    â€œWhat business?”
    â€œMy