Evan. Have you forgotten what he asked me this afternoon?â She hated lying, but she did not want to see anyone, even Evan Somerset, sent to prison. She had heard too many stories of the horror of the Bastille.
âThis afternoon?â Her eyes narrowed.
Evan stepped forward, took the old womanâs hand, and bowed over it. â Bon après-midi, madame. Je voudrais ââ
âDo not try to charm me by speaking French, young man.â A smile tipped her lips. âHowever, you do speak it well for an Englishman.â
âA friend taught me well.â
âA friend? A friend like Brienne?â
Amusement glittered in his eyes. âA very different type of friend, madame. I should have said a business acquaintance.â
âI shall not ask what business that was.â
âA wise decision.â
With a chuckle, Grand-mère turned to Brienne. âWe still have much to discuss before I allow you to mix up your life with such a scoundrel, ma petite .â She did not give Brienne a chance to answer as she added to Haviland, âI trust you have suspects to capture and be tried for this crime against us, sir.â
The watchman opened his mouth, then clamped it closed as he strode out of the salon. The door crashed behind him, rattling the gilded glass.
âGood riddance,â Evan said with a return of his smile. Bowing his head, he said, âEvan Somerset, madameââ
âI am Yvonne LeClerc, Monsieur Somerset. I owe you a debt of gratitude for coming to my granddaughterâs rescue.â
âToo late, I fear.â
Brienne stepped back to keep her grandmother from examining her face. âI am fine, Grand-mère. âTis nothing. Thank you for your help, Mr. Somerset. I regret that your hat was ruined. However, I assume you came back because you are still interested in the vase.â
âThe vase?â He caught her hands in his. âWhat about the vase?â
Before she could answer, Grand-mère said, âI hear your motherâs bell, Brienne. Go and let her see that you are safe.â
âMaman has not rung. Sheââ The distant sound of a handbell contradicted her. âI will return quickly. We have much to do if we plan to reopen tomorrow night.â
âTomorrow night?â Mr. Somerset asked. âHow can you expect to clean this up in such a short time?â
âBecause we have to. Mr. Somerset, if you would be so kind as to wait.â
âOf course, Miss LeClerc.â Evan laughed as Brienne glanced at him, surprise again in her expressive eyes, as he addressed her as formally as she had him. When she rushed out of the room, he smiled at her grandmother. âI trust I may wait here?â
âYou may, although you may have to wait a while. If my daughter is distraught, Brienne will have to calm her.â
âDaughter?â He swallowed the rest of his question as the old woman arched a single snowy brow. If Brienneâs surname was LeClerc as was her maternal grandmotherâs, that suggested Brienne was the product of an illicit union. Mayhap Brienne had inherited some of that ungovernable passion. No, he had no time for such enticing thoughts. He had to get that vase, not imagine delighting in the innocent fire on her lips.
âLucile is not well, Monsieur Somerset.â
âI am sorry to hear that.â He looked around the room. âAnd this will not help.â
âDo you always exhibit such a gift for understatement?â She lowered herself to a chair. âI was right. You are a scoundrel.â
âYou are insightful, madame.â
âMy eyes are clearest with matters concerning my granddaughter. From what Brienne said, I assume you called earlier.â
âYes.â
She shook her head and sighed. âI fear this cool, subdued English climate has washed away Brienneâs joie de vie . She thinks solely of the salon.â
âMadame, I assure you