A Sister's Quest

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  She looked from the duc to Lady Sommerton. She wanted to trust them, but she had learned smiles sometimes hid the truth. “You still have not explained your interest in Maman’s ring.”

  In a voice raw with emotion, Lady Sommerton said, “Mademoiselle D’Orage … Michelle, I think you are my younger sister.”

  “Sister?” She shook her head. “You have made a mistake. I am not the one you are looking for. I do not have a sister. It was only Maman and me.”

  “Because your father was beheaded during the Terror?”

  Rusak clutched Michelle’s arm, but she did not need his warning to be careful.

  “Many died then,” she answered coolly. “I am sorry you lost your parents and sister, Lady Sommerton.” Holding out her hand again, she said, “My ring, please, Your Grace.”

  When he did not return it to her, she hesitated. The duc stood a head taller than Rusak. As Rusak shifted his stance and clenched his fists, she motioned for him to do nothing. If he tried to get her ring back, someone might be hurt.

  “Mademoiselle D’Orage,” the duc asked, “will you let us explain?”

  Grudgingly, she nodded.

  “As Brienne said, we believe you are our sister.”

  “Our sister?” She sat and stared at him.

  He drew off his left glove. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the ring on his hand. It matched Maman’s. Taking it off, he handed it to her. “Our father’s ring. Our father, Marc-Michel Levesque.”

  “Marc-Michel Levesque?” She tilted his ring and saw the engraving inside. It was just as in Maman’s ring. “MML and SR. Marc-Michel Levesque and Sophie Rameau?”

  “We had hoped,” Lady Sommerton said with a tentative smile, “that when Maman fled Paris after our father was executed, that she took her wedding ring along with our baby sister.” She took Michelle’s hands. “Our father’s name was Marc-Michel Levesque. Michelle, you are our sister. Whether you believe it or not, I do.”

  “I do not know what to believe.”

  “I know exactly how you feel. Like you, I was raised far from home.”

  “Home?”

  Monsieur Mauriac grinned and interjected, “Mademoiselle, your brother and his wife have returned to France to claim your family’s estate, Château Tonnere du Grêlon. You, Mademoiselle D’Orage—or, I should say, Mademoiselle Levesque—are a duc’s daughter.”

  Michelle fought to breathe. She looked at Rusak, but his face was as ashen as hers must be. Maman had been a duchesse? How had Maman kept this secret for so many years? Had Alexei known? He had been so closemoudied about other things. He might have known and never told her.

  “Are you all right?” Lady Sommerton asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I believe I am.”

  The duc chuckled as he handed her Maman’s ring. “I suspected you would be. Such tidings are not enough to defeat a Levesque. Will you and Monsieur Rusak join us at the family’s house here in Paris? We can speak further there.”

  As she opened her mouth to answer, Rusak gripped her face, turning it toward him. He signed furiously. Say no, Michelle. Think first.

  “Why?”

  Not sure. Mayhap lies.

  “I am not sure either, but—” She switched to sign language. Duc help find Alexei. Must try. She saw the others watching with curiosity. “Rusak was injured in the war, and this is how he speaks.”

  “Fascinating,” said Lady Sommerton. “You talk with your hands, Monsieur Rusak? Did you know there is a school that teaches that manual language here in Paris?”

  “He has been offered a position as an instructor there.”

  “Perfect! Our house is convenient to it.” She smiled at her brother—not just hers, but Michelle’s. “I cannot believe we have finally found her. Who would have guessed that Armistead LaPorte was honest when he told me that my sister was in a place that would be difficult to reach in the winter? Zurich fits that description perfectly, and now here she is.”

  “Armistead LaPorte?” Michelle asked.

  Lady Sommerton smiled. “A long story about an old enemy, Michelle.”

  “Shall we go?” asked the duc. “You can tell her that story in the carriage, Brienne.”

  Again Michelle hesitated.

  “Is there a problem, Michelle?” the duc asked as he opened the door.

  She should have guessed any man who reminded her of Alexei would not miss something as obvious as her distress. “Your Grace, I—”

  “Please call me Dominic.” He gave her a roguish smile. “You are unsure of our familial ties, but I am not. You look exactly like the paintings of Sophie Rameau that are still hanging at the château.”

  “That is how we knew instantly it was you,” said Lady Sommerton—no, Brienne.

  A sister and a brother? Michelle wished her mind would stop whirling. When she stepped out of the shop and saw Brienne run up to a man and a woman standing by a carriage, she took a steadying breath. The man and woman were obviously waiting for them.

  With a sparkling laugh, Brienne said, “Michelle, come and meet my husband, Evan.” She put her hand on the arm of the man, whose hair was a tawny brown, and smiled up at him. Then, looking at the woman who had the most amazing red hair Michelle had ever seen, she added, “And this is Dominic’s wife, Abigail.”

  Michelle’s smile grew uncomfortable as she greeted this sudden family. So many questions teased her to be asked, especially because she realized Evan was English, and Abigail was an American. Michelle blinked back tears as she thought of how Alexei wanted to travel to America.

  “We should go,” Brienne said, her smile widening even more. “By this time, Lucile will be awake from her nap.”

  “Lucile?” asked Michelle.

  “Our daughter,” Evan replied, putting his arm around Brienne. “And she already has the Levesque contrariness and determination.”

  Michelle shook her head in amazement. “I cannot believe all the relatives I now have.” She glanced at Rusak, and saw her uneven emotions reflected in his frown. She was so happy to have found this family, but her joy was diminished by her fears for Alexei.

  Mayhap can help.

  She nodded. Mayhap her family could help her find Alexei. A duc must have allies who might be able to unearth even a hint of Alexei. She shuddered, wishing she had not thought of the word unearth. He could not be dead.

  Michelle waited for the other women to climb into the carriage. She smiled as Dominic handed her in. His hand was as rough as Alexei’s, surprising her, because she had not guessed a duc would lead a rough life or wear an earring like a pirate.

  Rusak stepped into the carriage after Michelle and sat facing Brienne and Abigail. Michelle sat next to him as he continued to sign his concerns and his hopes to her. He still did not trust these people. As Dominic sat beside Brienne and joked about the crowded carriage, her breath caught. It was as if she looked at the picture of her father, for they both had the same determined expression in their dark eyes.

  As the carriage jerked into motion, Michelle gasped. Too late she realized how she was sitting. She clenched the edge of the red velvet seat.

  Evan smiled. “I realize it is not comfortable, but we need go only as far as Îsle Saint-Louis.”

  Michelle could not answer as she shivered. Since the ambush on them in Vienna, she had been careful not to ride backward. Her stomach roiled.

  “Evan,” cried Brienne with abrupt concern, “something is wrong. Michelle’s face is as gray as the cobbles. Stop the carriage.”

  “No! Don’t stop the carriage! Don’t!” Michelle hid her face against Rusak’s shoulder as memories pummeled her with the pain of that horrible night.

  “Michelle?” Abigail put her hand on Michelle’s arm. “The signs Monsieur Rusak is making … Were you shot in a carriage?”

  Taking deep breaths, Michelle tried to banish her panic. “Yes,” she whispered. “In Vienna.” She started to explain, but Evan stood awkwardly and motioned for her to take his seat.

  “Michelle,
you will be much more comfortable here,” he said.

  She dropped gratefully into his seat, glad that he had not suggested that they stop the carriage to change places. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Let us speak of something else,” Brienne said softly. “Tell us about Maman, please.”

  As Michelle glanced at the entreaty on Brienne’s face, she pushed aside her terror. Her sister longed for any connection with their mother. Touching Maman’s ring, she whispered, “Maman was always kind and laughing and making everything more exciting. I wish I could have spent more time with her.”

  “I thought she died only a few years ago,” Dominic said.

  “Yes, but I did not see her as often as I wished when I was growing up because Maman … worked. She was a … a … a spy.”

  “A spy?” Evan laughed, shocking her. “That seems to be a profession the Levesques excel at. For whom did she spy?”

  “Whomever Alexei works for.”

  “Alexei? Who is he?”

  Michelle looked again at Rusak. How could she describe Alexei? What words would give life to his quicksilver personality? How could she explain to her family that she knew nothing about him other than how he made her heart dance with joy?

  Alexei loves Michelle. Michelle loves Alexei.

  She smiled and squeezed his hand. Rusak was right. This was one truth that could not be denied. Looking at her family, she said, “He is the man I love.”

  “But he abandoned you in Vienna?” Dominic’s brows lowered. “A man does not abandon the woman he loves.”

  His wife smiled up at him. “That is true.”

  Michelle wondered how much of the truth she should reveal. Then she remembered what Alexei had told her soon after she had left St. Bernard’s. Her family had become a part of his work by their kind act of welcoming her. Alexei’s enemies, who had become hers, would believe she had told her family the truth.

  Taking a deep breath, she began the tale from the beginning. She had to trust these people who had opened their home and their hearts to her. What the result of her honesty would be, she could not guess, but she hoped it would not be another disaster.

  Chapter Twenty

  Michelle was reaching for a cake on the plate held out to her when she heard a footman announce she had a caller. Looking across the grand room with ceilings that must be fifteen feet above the floor, she wondered who would be calling for her here.

  Brienne asked, “Who do you know in Paris?”

  “No one.” Michelle stiffened on the gold settee that matched the elegance around them. “And no one knows I am here.”

  “Monsieur Mauriac is a skilled jeweler, but he has an unfortunate habit of gossiping.”

  “But to whom?”

  The footman said, “Mademoiselle, he said he has a message for her from a Monsieur LaTulippe.”

  “LaTulippe?” Leaping to her feet, Michelle cried, “Show him in! Now!”

  “Michelle—”

  “No!” She faced Brienne as the footman went to do as ordered. “Don’t try to protect me. He … he may know where Alexei is.”

  “Because he abducted Alexei?”

  “Yes.”

  Slowly Brienne nodded, then turned as a man entered the room. He was unshaven, and, from the odors rising from him, Michelle guessed he had not bathed since he last shaved.

  Michelle stepped between the man and her sister. “You asked to speak to me?”

  “You are Michelle Levesque?” He laughed. “Not Collette?”

  “Yes.” She hid her flinch. He must have been among the men who had attacked them in the apartment in Vienna. “I understand you have a message from LaTulippe.”

  “You are to hear it alone,” he said in a growl.

  Brienne cried, “No! I am not leaving—”

  Michelle shook her head as she looked into her sister’s dark eyes that were so like her own.

  Brienne sighed and nodded. Holding her skirts close so they did not brush against the man’s filthy clothes, she left. Michelle suspected she would not go far.

  “We are alone,” Michelle said. “What is the message from LaTulippe?”

  He smiled as his gaze swept along her, leaving a slimy sensation in its wake. The tip of his tongue scraped along his bottom lip, and he stepped toward her. Fighting her desire to flee, she did not move. He muttered something, then scooped up a cake and took a generous bite.

  Around his mouthful, he mumbled, “You look very good now, Michelle.”

  “Thank you.” She folded her arms in front of the light green gown that Abigail had lent her. Ruffles had been hastily added to the hem to make the dress long enough for her.

  “Of course, fear makes you very pale, doesn’t it?”

  “Give me the message and leave.”

  “You may order your lover around, but not me. I will tell you what to do.” He chuckled as he dropped into the chair where Brienne had been sitting. Motioning toward the settee, he commanded, “Sit.”

  She did not hesitate. If she argued with him, he would withhold the message. She lowered herself to the very edge of the settee.

  Picking up a cup, he held it out to her. “I am sure the duc has some excellent brandy in the house.”

  “I am sure,” she said, but did not take the cup.

  With a shrug, he set it back on the saucer. “It was worth a try. LaTulippe is anxious to meet with you.”

  “I guessed that,” she answered serenely. When she saw his astonishment, she smiled.

  “You have something he wants.”

  “Do I?”

  He scowled as he crossed one leg over the other. Flicking mud from his boots to the rug, he said with a growl, “Aren’t you curious about your lover?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He rubbed dried dirt from his hands and reached for another cake. “If you want to see him alive, be ready for a ride tomorrow at one.”

  She nodded. “I will be waiting by the front gate.”

  “Alone.”

  “LaTulippe would not want to risk meeting anyone more dangerous than a woman, I realize.”

  Grumbling a curse at her insult to his employer, he snapped, “And bring your lover’s journal with you. It is a small brown volume. Do you know of it?”

  Michelle blinked, trying to maintain her composure. She kept her gaze from the mantel, where she had placed the book last night after showing it to her brother. She had hoped Dominic might have some suggestion of whom it should be taken to. With the upheaval since Napoleon’s arrival in Paris, no one knew who was trustworthy.

  “Tomorrow at one.” She rose and was surprised when he did the same.

  “If you have anyone else with you, LaTulippe will pass by on his way to watch your lover’s death.”

  She could not hide her flinch this time. Smiling, he set his battered hat on his head and bade her a good day.

  Closing her eyes, she pressed her hands over her heart. Alexei was alive!

  Michelle ran to the fireplace and took the small book off the mantel. She would hold on to it until the time she was to meet LaTulippe. Her smile faltered. Alexei had not wanted LaTulippe to have this.

  No, she would not choose his work over his life. Her mother had died because of the work they did. Alexei must not become a martyr as well. She was going to try to save his life, even if she ended up destroying all he had worked for.

  Michelle looked out through the trees edging the window of her room and watched the traffic on the Seine. Before the day’s end, she would see Alexei again. Although Rusak was worried that LaTulippe was lying to her, she believed that Alexei’s enemy would have delighted in sharing the news of Alexei’s death. LaTulippe wanted the book she held in her hands enough to trade Alexei for it.

  She opened the book and yawned. A few of the cryptic phrases she recognized as ones she had written in the letters for Alexei. It was gibberish. She hoped she had not made a mistake about this.

  Closing it, she stared at her colorless face in the glass and
forced a grin. “Are you ready to be a heroine?” The face reflecting back had no answer.

  Her family and Rusak were waiting when Michelle descended the stairs.

  Brienne handed her daughter to Evan and rushed forward to embrace her. “Why do you have to put yourself in such danger when we have just found you?”

  “I must do what I can to save Alexei.”

  “Take someone with you,” Abigail urged.

  “No one. The message said I was to come alone.”

  “They may kill you.” Dominic caught her by the shoulders. The fury on his face had not dimmed since their discussion yesterday when she had revealed her plans. Her ears still rang with his bellow that he wished they were on his ship where he could order her to heed common sense. His scowl eased as he said, “Ma petite soeur, you do not know if Alexei is alive. They could be lying to you to get what they want.”

  Although she wanted to smile as he called her little sister, she squared her shoulders. “He must be alive.” She looked from his frown to the distress on her sister’s face to Rusak’s silent acceptance. He understood what her family could not. “I must try. I cannot let Alexei die to save my own life.”

  “I understand,” Evan said, squeezing her hand. “This Alexei is so much a part of your life that you are incomplete without him.” He put his arm around Brienne. “The Levesques hold on to what is theirs. She is no different from you or Dominic.”

  “Be careful, Michelle,” Brienne whispered.

  Michelle hugged each of them. When she turned to Rusak, he signed, Rusak walk Michelle to gate.

  “LaTulippe said I must be there alone.”

  He made a sign she did not recognize, and she guessed by his tight face that it was a curse. No see Rusak.

  She nodded, glad to have a concealed ally. With a strained smile for her family, she hurried out to the ornate gate. The door closed behind her, and she shivered. Mayhap she was mad not to heed their advice, but she could not let Alexei die now.

  Michelle be safe.

  “I will try.” She watched as he hid out of sight from the street.

  Exactly as the church bells tolled the hour, a carriage slowed to a stop in front of the wrought-iron gate. The carriage was as elegant as the one she had traveled in with Alexei to Vienna. When she saw the garish wheels, she realized it was the same one. She forced her dismay deep within her. LaTulippe wanted to disconcert her. She must not let him.