Mr. Thorne and Mr. Oliver glanced at each other once again in silent conversation, and Severine said, “There is a reason for these questions and I assume it is alarming. Will you tell me or will you insist that we gather up Mr. Brand or Grandmère?”
Again, the two men eyed each other as though insisting the other answer.
She sighed, hating that she was only eighteen years old and they acted like men rather fixated on honor and chivalry and those other antiquated things and so thought she her delicate sensibilities needed protecting. “I prefer if you take your concerns to Mr. Brand, if you don’t care for my opinion on the matter. If you insist upon treating me like a doll, I rather fear that we have little to discuss beyond the weather, and it is frightful, isn’t it?”
Anubis’s low growl had them all turning towards the trees. “Ah, perhaps that’s whatever has you alarmed.” Her voice was light.
“I rather hope not, by Jove,” Mr. Oliver replied.
Severine laughed before she turned and glanced at Mr. Thorne. “I’ll just step into the woods and see, shall I?”
Severine took a step towards the tree with Anubis at her side when Mr. Thorne grabbed her arm. “Please don’t. It’s not safe.”
Severine looked over her shoulder at him. “Why?” she demanded.
He frowned at her, his gaze raking over hers. “You know that there’s something wrong.”
“I might not be a man,” Severine mocked them, her gaze moving between the two, “but I am not entirely dim.”
Severine glanced back towards the trees, noted that Anubis had calmed down but that Mr. Thorne hadn’t, though he did release her arm. She waited calmly for him to decide whether to speak or not.
“There is a bullet hole in your auto window.”
Severine blinked rather rapidly. Both of them watched with complete seriousness. She considered the previous day. “Well.”
Mr. Thorne’s mouth dropped. “That’s it?”
“I’m afraid you lot have fallen in with scoundrels and ruffians.” She paused. “Why are you here?”
“Your grandmother said there was spirit activity here since the death of your parents.” Mr. Oliver’s even tone said he had seen little of that nature, and he wasn’t pleased.
Severine snorted. “She invited you here for Florette.”
“Florette?” Mr. Oliver demanded in confusion. “Florette?”
“They’re wondering which of you has the greater income. She’ll have a bit of money on her marriage, but of course, she wants more than that mere pittance.”
Mr. Oliver cursed. Severine turned to Mr. Thorne. “You’re here for spirits?”
He nodded once. “It’s something of an obsession, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sure the house is rife with them.”
He looked towards the wood again. “I fear you’ll be one if you’re not careful.”
“I have started to realize that. Shall I haunt you if I am murdered?”
Mr. Oliver snorted with a surprised laugh. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
She grinned at him, and when he held out his elbow, she took it. “Thank you for moving my car.”
Mr. Thorne stepped up next to them. “Does she really not care which of us?” he asked, alluding to Florette.
“Oh, she cares. Whoever has the greater income. Shall I tell her?”
Mr. Oliver cursed low and then said, “I liked her.”
“She might be kind.”
“Might be?” Mr. Thorne groaned. “Don’t you know?”
“The last I saw her, we were both children. She was spoiled and favored, and I was bitterly jealous.”
Mr. Thorne glanced down at her. “Why was she favored? Weren’t you the daughter of the house?”
“She’s just like my mother. I’m the cuckoo.”
Mr. Thorne frowned and shook his head. “I wish the concept of parents who dream up a specific version of their child and then are disappointed with the reality was a foreign concept.”
Severine walked with the gentlemen inside of the house and found Lisette pacing in the hall.
“You went out without me,” Lisette accused. “You said we would stay together.”
Severine was immediately contrite. She had only wished a few minutes to herself, but Lisette was right. And she might have come to harm.
Her news wasn’t going to help settle her friend, but she didn’t wish to speak of it openly, so she pulled them all into her suite and firmly closed the door. “It seems someone was taking shots at me,” Severine said calmly.
Lisette crossed her arms. “You? I could have been the intended victim.”
Mr. Thorne cleared his throat while Mr. Oliver said, “We must tell your Mr. Brand.”
Severine waved him to it while Mr. Thorne replied, “I’m not sure we should leave her alone.”
“We can’t leave,” Lisette told both of them. “Have you realized that? And someone is trying to kill Severine. Who might they kill along the way to get to her?”
Severine snorted and Lisette spun on her. She held up both hands in surrender, but Lisette groaned.
“Why is it funny, Miss DuNoir?” Mr. Thorne asked. He had maneuvered his friend out of the way, and Severine had enjoyed the act even if she hadn’t decided if it was for the liking of her or for the saving of his friend from her.
“What is the difference? Being hunted here or there? Either way, they’re coming. At least you aren’t the target.”
“If you think we’ll abandon you to it, Miss DuNoir, you’re wrong.”
Lisette laughed. “It’s because she’s striking, isn’t it? All that white skin and those cheeks flushed by cold but not by fear.”
“I’m sorry?” Mr. Thorne asked.
“She’s a waif.”
“She’s hardly a waif,” Mr. Oliver countered. “Miss DuNoir is—”
“Beautiful,” Lisette told him flatly. “Different from the other girls. Self-possessed, but alone. So very lost. Even in her own mind. She’s practically begging to be rescued, isn’t she? Even I fell for it.”
“I didn’t ask you to save me, as you recall” Severine told Lisette. “I don’t need saving.”
“From the villain?” Lisette asked. “Maybe not. But from yourself, very much so. You said you needed a friend to save you.”
“And you’ll do it?”
“Do you have anyone that loves you?” Lisette demanded.
“Sister Mary Chastity. Sister Sophie. Sister Agnes. Sister Bernadette.”
“None of your family?” Mr. Thorne asked. “Oliver and I have met much of your family.”
“Of
