judgment.”
Mr. Manton glanced from her to Mr. Bonnaud, then sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t promise you that, Lady Zoe.”
“Why not?”
Mr. Bonnaud was the one to answer, in his typically self-satisfied manner. “Because I know more about the Romany people than Dom and Victor put together. I speak their language, I’m familiar with their customs, and I’ll have no trouble learning the whereabouts of all the major Gypsy families.”
Botheration.
“He’s right,” Mr. Manton added. “Tristan spent far more time with them than I did. I was either at school or going about in society with our father. And Victor has had no dealings with them at all.”
The words had scarcely left Mr. Manton’s lips when a knocking sounded from downstairs.
He rose. “That’s probably the records I’ve been waiting for. So if you’ll excuse me . . .”
Surely he wasn’t going to rush out of here and leave this matter unresolved! “But . . . but I don’t want Mr. Bonnaud to be part of this!” she cried as Mr. Manton headed for the door.
Mr. Bonnaud gave a harsh laugh. “I think my brother has made it clear that you don’t have a choice.” When she whirled on him, he added with a smirk, “Not if you want Drina found. Assuming that she even exists.”
Heaven save her, this was not to be borne! “I could always tell the world that you’re a thief,” she hissed, unable to govern her temper any longer. “ You were the oneseen running from Kinlaw Castle that day. And I’m the one who can testify to that.”
That didn’t seem to faze him one jot. “Go ahead, my lady, tell the world.” Mr. Bonnaud marched up to lower his voice to a threatening rasp. “Then I’ll tell the world that you might not really be heir to the Earl of Olivier.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Not unless he has to,” Mr. Manton broke in. His tone turned forbidding. “I promised you our discretion, but that was contingent upon yours. If you choose to engage my brother in a fight that could ruin him, then you’ll have to engage me as well. And I assure you, I’ll defend us both by any means necessary.”
The warning gave her pause. She hadn’t meant to take this to such an extreme. It was just that Mr. Bonnaud had the most abominable ability to shatter her control. Now, thanks to him, she would have to regain lost ground . . . which meant choking down great gobs of her pride.
“I understand.” She forced a smile. “And I . . . apologize for my rash words. Manton’s Investigations is doing me a favor, after all. I didn’t mean to be ungracious.”
When Mr. Manton acknowledged her words with a tight nod, she went on hastily, “But I still think that Mr. Bonnaud—”
“You have no choice,” Mr. Manton cut in. “And for more reasons than my brother’s knowledge of the Romany. You see, I’m in the middle of a case involving a marquess’s missing valet, and Victor is tied up in acase at court. Tristan happens to be the only one free to pursue this matter just now.” He eyed her steadily. “Unless, of course, you wish to wait longer to have it taken care of.”
She let out a frustrated breath. “You know perfectly well I can’t.”
“Then Tristan will be handling your case.” As the knocker sounded downstairs again, he added, “I really must tend to that. I’ll leave you and my brother to work out the details.”
Then he was gone, and she was alone with her nemesis.
How mortifying. She couldn’t even bear to look at him after she’d let her temper get the better of her. When would she learn that just because she felt something didn’t mean she had to let it fly? As Mama always said, If you keep your true feelings private, you’ll never feel regret.
Regret was a bitter pill indeed.
After a moment, Mr. Bonnaud murmured, “Was that really so hard?”
“What?”
“Apologizing.”
“You have no idea,” she muttered.
When he remained silent, she ventured to look at him and was
Mr. Manton glanced from her to Mr. Bonnaud, then sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t promise you that, Lady Zoe.”
“Why not?”
Mr. Bonnaud was the one to answer, in his typically self-satisfied manner. “Because I know more about the Romany people than Dom and Victor put together. I speak their language, I’m familiar with their customs, and I’ll have no trouble learning the whereabouts of all the major Gypsy families.”
Botheration.
“He’s right,” Mr. Manton added. “Tristan spent far more time with them than I did. I was either at school or going about in society with our father. And Victor has had no dealings with them at all.”
The words had scarcely left Mr. Manton’s lips when a knocking sounded from downstairs.
He rose. “That’s probably the records I’ve been waiting for. So if you’ll excuse me . . .”
Surely he wasn’t going to rush out of here and leave this matter unresolved! “But . . . but I don’t want Mr. Bonnaud to be part of this!” she cried as Mr. Manton headed for the door.
Mr. Bonnaud gave a harsh laugh. “I think my brother has made it clear that you don’t have a choice.” When she whirled on him, he added with a smirk, “Not if you want Drina found. Assuming that she even exists.”
Heaven save her, this was not to be borne! “I could always tell the world that you’re a thief,” she hissed, unable to govern her temper any longer. “ You were the oneseen running from Kinlaw Castle that day. And I’m the one who can testify to that.”
That didn’t seem to faze him one jot. “Go ahead, my lady, tell the world.” Mr. Bonnaud marched up to lower his voice to a threatening rasp. “Then I’ll tell the world that you might not really be heir to the Earl of Olivier.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Not unless he has to,” Mr. Manton broke in. His tone turned forbidding. “I promised you our discretion, but that was contingent upon yours. If you choose to engage my brother in a fight that could ruin him, then you’ll have to engage me as well. And I assure you, I’ll defend us both by any means necessary.”
The warning gave her pause. She hadn’t meant to take this to such an extreme. It was just that Mr. Bonnaud had the most abominable ability to shatter her control. Now, thanks to him, she would have to regain lost ground . . . which meant choking down great gobs of her pride.
“I understand.” She forced a smile. “And I . . . apologize for my rash words. Manton’s Investigations is doing me a favor, after all. I didn’t mean to be ungracious.”
When Mr. Manton acknowledged her words with a tight nod, she went on hastily, “But I still think that Mr. Bonnaud—”
“You have no choice,” Mr. Manton cut in. “And for more reasons than my brother’s knowledge of the Romany. You see, I’m in the middle of a case involving a marquess’s missing valet, and Victor is tied up in acase at court. Tristan happens to be the only one free to pursue this matter just now.” He eyed her steadily. “Unless, of course, you wish to wait longer to have it taken care of.”
She let out a frustrated breath. “You know perfectly well I can’t.”
“Then Tristan will be handling your case.” As the knocker sounded downstairs again, he added, “I really must tend to that. I’ll leave you and my brother to work out the details.”
Then he was gone, and she was alone with her nemesis.
How mortifying. She couldn’t even bear to look at him after she’d let her temper get the better of her. When would she learn that just because she felt something didn’t mean she had to let it fly? As Mama always said, If you keep your true feelings private, you’ll never feel regret.
Regret was a bitter pill indeed.
After a moment, Mr. Bonnaud murmured, “Was that really so hard?”
“What?”
“Apologizing.”
“You have no idea,” she muttered.
When he remained silent, she ventured to look at him and was
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