“In need of a bath,” one replied.
“And ale,” said another.
“A woman?” Simon queried with a smile.
“Aye!”
“You will be freed tomorrow,” he explained, stepping closer. “I wish it could be now, but I wanted to be certain you all were in good health before I relinquish what I have that they desire.”
A man named Richard Becking extended a grimy hand through the cage and Simon took it without hesitation.
“Thank you, Quinn,” Richard said hoarsely.
“Thank you, my friend,” Simon returned, tightening his grip and thereby hiding the passing of a tiny rolled note.
Richard’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, a silent assurance that he would keep the missive’s existence a secret. It detailed Simon’s plans for the exchange and the way he wished to be told of their safe release before turning over Lysette.
With that, Simon bade them farewell and returned to the surface the same way he had left it: partly with sight and partly blindfolded. He parted ways with Desjardins’s men when they reached their mounts and directed his horse to return home.
The streets were less populated now and only one carriage crossed his path on the journey home. He studied it in passing, noting the obviously female gloved hand curled over the window ledge and the noble coat of arms emblazoned on the door. Both attributes made the equipage and its occupants innocuous and easily forgotten.
The man on horseback was so comely, he stole her wits.
Lynette Baillon straightened from her reclined position on the carriage squab and leaned forward, twisting to watch the rider through the window until he was out of sight.
He rode tall in the saddle, his grip on the reins one-handed and loose. His other hand rested casually atop the hilt of his small sword, but she was not fooled. He was aware of everything around him. His eyes followed her equipage as it passed, his breathtaking features revealed by his lack of a hat.
“What is it?” her mother asked from her position opposite.
“I was admiring a handsome man,” she explained, settling back into her seat.
“Shameless,” the vicomtess admonished. “What if he had seen you craning your neck in that manner?”
“It is too dark,” Lynette argued, “since you will not allow us to turn up the lamps.”
“There is danger everywhere.” Her mother sighed and rubbed at her temples. “You do not understand.”
“Because you refuse to tell me.”
“Lynette . . .”
The weariness in the beloved voice made Lynette abandon the subject, just as she had done for years. Now that her sister was gone, she felt compelled to be a comfort to her mother. It was a role that did not suit her well. Lysette had been the gentle one, the quiet one. Lynette was the outrageous one, the flamboyant one, the one forever concocting schemes that landed them in trouble.
“Forgive me, Maman.”
“No need. It has been a long journey.”
The vicomtess had the appearance of a delicate beauty with her pale golden hair and finely wrought features, widely lauded attributes that she’d passed on to her children. Age had not diminished her appeal; she remained as ethereally lovely as always. Regardless, the impression of fragility was a false one. Marguerite Baillon, Vicomtess de Grenier, was a remarkably strong woman. When she set her mind to something, she could not be swayed.
Unless it was a request from one of her daughters.
She had never been able to deny them anything, and after the loss of one, she was even more likely to indulge the other. It was why they were in Paris now. Lynette had always wanted to visit the famed city, so when the vicomtess suggested a trip to Spain in an effort to cheer them both, Lynette had begged for a short detour. Although Marguerite disliked Paris and had rarely returned to France over the past two decades, she had conceded reluctantly to her daughter’s wish.
The vicomtess yawned. “I wish for a hot bath and two days in bed.”
“But you allow us only a sennight to visit!” Lynette protested. “You cannot sleep two of those seven days.”
“I am jesting, ma petite. However, your father is due in town for business then,” her mother reminded her. “Neither of us wants a scolding for deviating from our stated plans.”