The Chocolatier's Wife (87 page)

“Every
time
I
start
to
like
your
mother,
she
says
something
to
really annoy
me.”
Tasmin whispered.

William
laughed darkly.
“You get used to it in
time.”

Lavoussier took
Bonny’s
arm.
“Father.
Brother.
I
will
take
my
rightful place in
the Almsley home.
I
will prove that I
am
who I
say.”

“Then
why
don’t
you
start
by
confessing
to
your
part
in
the
murder
so
your
poor
brother
can
stop
worrying
about
it?”
Tasmin
said
with
a surprising amount of acidity.

“Because even my brother cannot
be allowed to escape justice, sister.” He
left,
shaking
Bonny’s
hand
from
his
arm
as
he
bowed
to
the
assembled
company before ste
p
ping out the door.

Justin,
his
face
once
more
a
smooth
mask,
chivvied
Bonny
out
the
door ahead of him
and
the stable boy followed behind.

William
and
Tasmin
were alone.

“Hungry?”
William
asked,
and
Tasmin
nodded.

“Because
even
my
brother
cannot
escape
justice,”
she
mocked, as
she and
William attempted
to
make
dinner
for
themselves.
William had
eggs, and
some
smoked
ham, so
she
made
pan
bread
to
go
with
them,
while
he made stewed apples. She was u
n
convinced that the apples would be much good,
since
he
was
using
dried
fruit
,
but
they
were
starved
and it
would have
to do.
“Who
the devil does he think
he is?
So very
full of himself!”

“It
was
a
clever
idea,”
he
said
soothingly.
“And
we
know more than
we did,
which is good.”

“We know
that Lavoussier
is a
devious bastard.”

He
blinked
at
the
use
of
the
word, and
she
blushed.
“Quite
probably, yes.
I
do
not
imagine
the
conversation
my
parents
are
having
right
now
is at all pleasant, since my father and
mother were both only children.”

“I
was going to ask
if Lavoussier
could be a
long lost cousin.”

“Nay, my
grandfather
had
two
older
sisters,
one
who
never married because
her
i
n
tended
died
at
war
and
the
other
who
died
in
childbirth.
The babe
was
stillborn. His
wife
was
an
only
child
...
and
my
mother’s family were all taken
by either plague or
accident.”

She
nodded,
serving the
eggs.
“What
are
we
to
do
next?
We
have
no proof and
we’ve shown our
cards.”

“Perhaps
we’ve
prodded
people
into
action;
we
must
watch
closer
than
ever.
Ah,
thank
you,
love,
that looks good. I
hope water will suit?” She sat down opposite him
with her dinner.

“Closer
than
ever?
You
know
that
Lavoussier
will
press
his
case
against you—though
I
hardly
can
think
why,
as
he
claims
to
be
family, he
should hate you so.”

“I
do
not
doubt
it.
In
fact,
doubtless
this
very
second
he
is
trying
to
get
Franny
Harker
to recant her confession.”

“I would
in a
heartbeat
if
I
were
she,
but
as
long
as
she
is
behind
bars declaring she did it,
we can
hardly accuse him
of the crime.”

“She will not recant.
Not for
all the money in
the world.”

“What does
she
get?
Does
she
really
think
your
father
will
adopt
her children? She’s
betting
a
great
deal
that
you
and
I
won’t
have
sons,
is
she not?”

He picked at his food restlessly.

“She
was
a
servant
in
my
parents’ house.
And
her
children
could
open the
pantry
door
as
easily
as
Andrew
could,
for
they
are
his
children.
At least, according to the notes Lavoussier
has on
him.”

Her
fork
clattered
against
the
plate.
“Good
Lord. No
wonder
you’ve been upset.”

She took
a
drink
of water, trying to calm herself. After
this day,
she felt nothing
would
ever
shock her
again. “You
must
be
deeply
disappointed
in him.”

“Oh,
I
am.
But
he
does
love
Bonny a
great
deal,
so
I
cannot help
but wonder
if
he
was
not
forced
into
it.
One
child
is
two
years
of
age,
the
other
an infant.
Perhaps
father
gave
up
on
the
idea
of
Bonny
and
Andrew
producing children together and
decided they would go another route.”

“I
forbear
to
comment
on
how
little
sense
it
makes
that
a
man
who
loves his
wife
so
much
can
so
ill
use
her
as
to
bear
children
with
another, and instead
point
out
that
the
birth
of
the
first
child
would
have
been
before
you gave up your claim.”

“I’m glad
you
forbore
to
comment,”
he
said
wryly.
“And
aye,
but
I
was also
a
son
who
was
risking his
life
almost
daily. There
were
times
when betting
against
me
su
r
viving
long
enough
to
marry,
let
alone
have
children, would not have
been an
unwise investment.”

She
frowned.
“I
am
glad
you
no
longer
sail.
I
never knew
it
was
quite that dange
r
ous.”

He
sipped
some
water.
“That
is
because
I
am
a
good
fiancé
and
did
not
wish
you
to
fret.
In
any
case,
it
also
makes
me
wonder
how
old
Lavoussier is.”

She
frowned
a
moment,
then
realized
what
he
was
thinking.
“How
long were your parents wed before they had you?”

“Four years.”

“Do you think
your father sought insurance?”