She lifted her chin. ‘Why should I try to elude you? I want to return to Paris and you will help me do so. Until then, monsieur.’
Before she could walk away, a woman’s voice emanating from the second floor called out, ‘Madame, where are you?’
‘Get back!’ she whispered, pushing him into the shadows beneath the balcony.
‘That’s Clara, isn’t it? The maid who helped you?’ Will asked in an undertone as footsteps sounded on the balcony overhead.
‘Ah, there you are, in the garden,’ came the voice. ‘Shall I bring your dinner down there?’
‘No, I’ll be right up,’ madame called back.
She pivoted to face Will. ‘As soon as you hear me above, go back over the wall the way you came. I will do as you ask; there’s no need for you to harass Clara.’
‘What makes you think I haven’t already … harassed her?’
Her eyes widened with alarm before she steadied herself, no doubt realising that if he had accosted the maid, she would have probably arrived frightened and frantic, rather than calmly calling her mistress to supper. Still, even now it might be worth following the maid home and seeing if he could dredge out of her any additional information about her mistress.
As if she could read his thoughts, madame said fiercely, ‘If any harm comes to Clara, I will kill you.’
Amused at her audacity in daring to threaten him—this slender woman who must weigh barely more than a child and possessed neither strength nor any weapon—Will grinned. ‘You could try.’
Her gaze hardened. ‘You have no idea what I am capable of, monsieur.’ Showing him her back, she paced into her lodgings, a wisp of lavender scent lingering in her wake.
Chapter Four
Her heart beating hard, feeling as weak as if she’d run a mile through the twisting Vienna streets, Elodie hurried up the stairway to her rooms. Having placed her basket on a table, Clara was looking at the embroidery Elodie had just completed.
‘Ah, madame, this is the prettiest yet! The colour’s lovely, and the bird so vivid, one almost thinks it will fly off the gown.’ Looking up at Elodie, the maid nodded approvingly. ‘You’ve got some colour back in your face. A stroll in the fresh air agreed with you. You must do it more often.’
Elodie wasn’t about to reveal that it wasn’t the garden air that had brought a flush to her cheeks, but an infuriating, dictatorial, dangerous man.
His touch had almost scalded her. It had been many years since she’d sought or experienced such a physical response. The sensation carried her back to the early days of her love for her late husband, when a mere glance from him could set her body afire.
She shook the memory away before sadness could follow in its wake. Given her reaction to him, travelling in Will Ransleigh’s company might be more hazardous to her well-being than she’d first thought. But she could worry about that later; now, she had more immediate matters to address.
‘I’ve brought you a good dinner,’ the maid said as she bustled about, putting plates and silverware on the table and lighting candles. ‘Frau Luvens made meat pie and some of her apple strudel. You will do it justice now, won’t you?’
To her surprise, for the first time in a long time, Elodie found the idea of food appealing. The knowledge that at last, at last, she would be able to stop marking time and get back to Paris, was reviving her vanished appetite. ‘You won’t have to coax me tonight; it sounds delicious. You are joining me, aren’t you? You can tell me all the news.’
While Clara rambled on about her day and her work at the grand hotel where she’d taken employment after her mistress had recovered enough to be left on her own, Elodie edged to the window. Though from this angle, she couldn’t see all the way under the balcony, her surreptitious inspection of the garden indicated that Monsieur Ransleigh had indeed departed.
By now, Clara had the covers off the dishes and was waving her to the small table. ‘Come, eat before the meat pies get cold. Gruber gave me some extra bread from the hotel kitchen. I’m so glad to see your appetite returning! Just in time, as we’ll be able to afford meat more often. Madame Lebruge was so complimentary about your work on the last consignment of embroidery, I told her the next lot would be ten schillings more the piece. She didn’t even protest! I should have asked for twenty.’
Elodie seated herself and waited while the maid attacked her meat pie. ‘I won’t be doing another lot. I’m leaving Vienna.’
Clara’s hands stilled and she looked up, wiping savoury juice from her chin. ‘Leaving? How? I thought you said it would be months before you could save enough to travel.’
‘My plans have changed.’ Omitting any mention of threats or the edgy undercurrent between herself and the man, Elodie told Clara about Will Ransleigh’s visit and offer to escort her to Paris.
She should have known the maid would be suspicious. ‘But can you trust this man, madame? How do you know he truly is Monsieur Max Ransleigh’s cousin?’
‘When you see him, you’ll understand; the resemblance between the two men is striking.’
‘Why would he wish to do you the favour of taking you to Paris?’
‘Because I am to do him a favour in return. I promised I would go to England and testify about how I embroiled his cousin in St Arnaud’s plot.’
‘Gott im Himmel, madame! Is that wise? Is it safe?’
Though she was nearly certain Ransleigh was gone, a well-developed instinct for caution impelled her to lean close and drop her voice to a whisper. ‘I have no intention of actually going to London. Once we get to Paris, I shall elude him.’
Clara clapped her hands. ‘Ah, yes, and I am sure you shall, now that you’ve finally recovered your strength! But … should I not go with you as far as Paris? I do not like the idea of you travelling alone with this man about whom we know so little.’
‘Thank you, dear friend, but you should stay here. Vienna is your home. You’ve already done more for me than I ever expected, more than I can ever repay.’
The maid waved a hand dismissively. ‘How could I do less, when you were so kind to me? Taking on an untried girl as your dresser, you who had to appear with the cream of society before all Vienna! Nor could I have obtained my present position without all I learned serving you.’
‘You’ve returned many times over any favour I did you.’
‘In any case, my lady, you shouldn’t travel alone.’
‘That might be true … if I were travelling as a “lady”. But I shall not be, nor is the journey likely to be comfortable. Perhaps not even safe. I don’t know if the watchers will be pleased when they discover I’ve left Vienna and you’ve already faced enough danger for me. I must go alone.’
‘You are certain?’ the maid asked, studying her face.
‘Yes,’ she replied, clasping Clara’s hand. Even if she’d planned to travel as a lady of substance, she wouldn’t have allowed Clara to accompany her. Escaping swiftly, drawing out of Vienna whatever forces still kept surveillance over her, was the best way to ensure the safety of the woman who had taken her in and nursed her back to health after she’d been brutalised and abandoned.
‘So, no more embroidery,’ Elodie said. ‘But I’m not completely without resources yet.’ Rising, she went to the linen press and extracted two bundles neatly wrapped in muslin. Bringing them to Clara, she said, ‘The first is a ball gown I never had a chance to wear; it should fetch a good price. The other is the fanciest of my dinner gowns; I’ve already re-embroidered it and