A smile ghosted across Arjun’s lips. “Trust that he is most concerned with putting a swift end to anything that might negatively affect his family’s businesses.”
Well. Celine sniffed, her indignation mounting. It bothered her immensely that Bastien had taken it upon himself to make decisions for them, without even consulting them first. Not to mention that if her suspicions were correct—if Bastien did indeed have something to do with Anabel’s untimely death, as the yellow ribbon in his pocket suggested—he was in essence pouring drinks for them from a poisoned well.
Moreover, Celine hated the idea of owing him anything.
She could refuse. But that would be foolish and prideful. The benefit of having a legal mind present for the events to come should outweigh her concerns for what the far future might bring.
Arjun dusted the brim of his bowler hat. “I believe the detective is waiting for us inside the Mother Superior’s office,” he said. “If you would care to take advantage of the boon being offered you, please lead the way. But if you’d rather be damned fools, I’ll bid you both good day.”
Celine bristled further. At least she would not be guilty of selfishness or arrogance in this instance. “Pippa,” she said, turning toward her friend, “what do you think we should do?”
Pippa glanced from Arjun to Celine and back again, her expression thoughtful. “Even though we have nothing to hide, I do think it would better to have a barrister with us, don’t you?”
“I agree.” Celine nodded. “We thank you for your assistance in this matter, Monsieur Desai. Please convey our appreciation to . . . your employer.”
For I certainly won’t, Celine finished in her head.
Dark amusement glimmered in Arjun’s gaze. “Shall we?” he said to Pippa and Celine, indicating they should lead the way inside.
Neither of them dared to step forward. Arjun’s thick brows tufted together as he turned toward Pippa. “Don’t worry yourself too much, Miss Montrose,” he said softly. “You have nothing to hide. To quote Launcelot, the truth will out.”
Pippa nodded. Then she proceeded through the lemon grove, her posture rigid, her chin held high.
Steeling herself, Celine inhaled deeply before following her friend, hoping against hope that Shakespeare—in this instance—would be proved utterly wrong.
Her truth must remain in darkness. No matter the cost.
THE PERFORMANCE OF HER LIFE
In the light of day, Detective Michael Grimaldi did not seem quite as intimidating as he had the night before. Nor did he appear quite so professorial. He almost looked . . . handsome.
Unfortunately this shift in countenance did little to ease the tension building in Celine’s body.
She adjusted her seat on the creaky wooden chair positioned before the Mother Superior’s desk. Then she smoothed the overskirt on the drabbest dress she owned. The color of dirty dish-water, this particular gown had been relegated to the times Celine had fiddled with fabric dyes in the atelier. Her ears still burned from how Detective Grimaldi had coolly rebuked her for using feminine wiles to sway him to her side. Today her attire had been chosen to make the point that Celine cared not a whit whether the sneering, self-important young detective found her attractive.
The most beautiful young woman he’s ever met, my foot. Celine seethed to herself.
Then she heaved a great sigh.
Her temper could not get the better of her today, as it nearly had last night.
From the opposite side of the Mother Superior’s desk, Michael Grimaldi observed her in studious silence before considering Pippa, who was seated between Celine and Arjun. Celine’s palms turned clammy when Detective Grimaldi leveled an icy look at Arjun, who crossed an ankle over a knee before removing a small leather notebook and laying it on the desk alongside a graphite pencil.
The immense wooden cross on the wall before Celine seemed to loom larger with each passing moment. Jesus Himself appeared to lock his tortured gaze on hers and say, “I suffered like this for your salvation?”
Celine looked away.
It was important she keep her wits about her. That she not lose sight of Arjun’s earlier directive. If she remained demure and silent, then perhaps Michael Grimaldi would leave them all alone.
But if worse came to worst, Celine knew of a way to turn his attentions elsewhere.
The location of a missing yellow hair ribbon, to be specific.
Detective Grimaldi cleared his throat. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Miss Rousseau and Miss Montrose,” he intoned.
“Of course,” Pippa murmured. “We wish to help in any way.”