Free Dangerous to Know by TASHA ALEXANDER Page A

better.”
    â€œAlibi.”
    â€œRight. Yes. Let’s see…Thursday…Calais. I took a room at a remarkably dim tavern across from the hotel the Whites were in after a more than usually tedious channel crossing. Terrible weather.”
    â€œCan you prove it?”
    â€œIf I must. The owner would remember me. We had an infuriating discussion about continental politics.”
    â€œDo you have your ticket from the ferry?” I asked.
    â€œI suppose I do somewhere.”
    â€œWill you please speak to Inspector Gaudet?”
    â€œThat fop?”
    â€œYou know him?”
    â€œOnly from watching you talk to him.” He gave an overdramatic sigh. “If it will release you from even a small measure of stress, I can hardly refuse.”
    â€œIt will also keep you from the guillotine,” I said.
    â€œA not unwelcome perk.”
    â€œThere’s one more thing I need from you.” I untied my horse and started to walk. “Come with me.”
    â€œVery well. I may as well accept the inevitable. Is the dashing Mr. Hargreaves at home? I’ve been meaning to call on him for some time.”

    8 July 1892
    An intruder in my house! I know not what alarms me more—his very presence or the fact that I slept so soundly and undisturbed during his visit. So far as any of us can tell, he’s taken nothing beyond our sense of security, but I am most displeased. I dislike the violation, even more now that I’m aware he’s no stranger to my incorrigible daughter-in-law. It is as if she has brought an unending supply of disturbance with her.
    I can’t believe I lent a book to a person of such dubious acquaintance.
    I’ve had a letter from Lady Carlisle this morning, pleading with me to return to London. It seems the Women’s Liberal Federation, a group in which I’ve been intimately involved (albeit from a distance) since its inception, is in the midst of heated controversy. They’ve decided to press forward with an agenda that includes actively pursuing the right of women to vote. All members of the fair sex throughout Britain ought to rejoice at such news. But instead, at least ten thousand of our members have renounced the organization in protest. Rumor has it they’re starting a group of their own, one that will not support suffrage, and I’m afraid the Liberal Party leadership may prefer their priorities. What good is fighting for women’s rights if those rights don’t include being able to vote?
    More ruckus beginning outside. I shall investigate and see what new inconvenience is to be heaped upon my household.

7
    The walk back to the house was a short one, and after releasing the horse to a stable boy, I let Sebastian take my arm (only to keep him from trying to dash away) and led him into the drawing room, where Mrs. Hargreaves greeted us with raised eyebrows and an appropriate look of horror. I did detect in her eyes a slight glimmer of hope—perhaps she thought Madame Bovary had started to wear off on me. But it was Cécile’s reaction that I most cherished.
    â€œMon dieu!” she cried, leaping to her feet and kissing Sebastian on both cheeks. “Those eyes…the color of sapphires. Stunning.”
    â€œMadame du Lac.” He bowed low and kissed her hand with an affected reverence. “It is a delight to no longer be relegated to admiring you from afar.”
    â€œI am glad to see you,” she said, looking him up and down. “I’ve always believed that it is a rare and magical thing to find a gentleman of such refined taste. Particularly one who will go to such unspeakably magnificent lengths to satisfy his every artistic whim.”
    â€œIt is never whim, madame, I assure you. I am driven only by the most carefully orchestrated motivations.”
    â€œWhat a pity Monsieur Leblanc has already taken his leave from us,” Cécile said. “I’m quite certain he would have been