Well. Yes.’ A blush heated her cheeks. ‘Of course I enjoyed being kissed—’
‘Then why have you stopped me?’
Why had she stopped him?
For the same reason she knew that she could not remain here alone in this room with this man a moment longer.
Because she had enjoyed his kisses too much. Had wanted his hands upon her bared flesh too much.
Because she had wanted so much more than just his kisses.
For just a brief time, a few moments, Lisette had wanted to lose herself in Christian’s kisses and caresses, to forget the unhappiness of these past months, along with the uncertainty of no longer knowing who or what she was.
For this time, here with Christian, she had wanted to just be herself. The Lisette Duprée who had been loved and cherished by the couple she had believed were her parents, and not the illegitimate daughter of a woman who seemed to care nothing for her, who owned and ran a lowly Parisian tavern frequented by criminals and whores.
That same woman who Lisette now knew had not even claimed her as being her daughter.
Except it really would not do.
The brief pleasure Lisette might know in Christian Beaumont’s arms would not, could not, drive away the otherwise unhappiness of her life for more than a few minutes, at the most hours.
Whereas the reality of the life she now led would last for her lifetime.
‘I have to go.’ She avoided meeting Christian’s gaze as she stepped away from him. ‘I must return to the tavern before I am missed—’
‘Perhaps you have already been missed...?’
Her heart leaped apprehensively in her chest. ‘Do not say that, Christian, even in jest.’
Christian frowned. He saw how pale her face was in the firelight. ‘Do you fear retribution from your aunt?’
‘No.’ Her gaze avoided meeting his. ‘No, of course I do not.’
Her denial came too quickly for Christian’s liking. ‘Come away with me, Lisette.’ The offer was completely spontaneous and as much of a surprise to Christian as it appeared to be to Lisette. ‘We could go to my country estate—’ the Saint-Cloud family still had one somewhere in Brittany ‘—or...the war is over now and I have relatives in England. I could take you there if you would rather leave France altogether?’
‘Leave France?’ she echoed faintly, as if the idea both thrilled and terrified her.
Christian regretted his offer as soon as the words left his mouth. The idea of taking Lisette back to England with him was ridiculous; what would he possibly do with the niece of Helene Rousseau once they were back in England?
For one thing, once in England, Lisette would quickly realise that he was not Christian Beaumont, the Comte de Saint-Cloud, at all, but in actual fact Christian Seaton, the Duke of Sutherland.
But perhaps, as he suspected in regard to her aunt, Lisette already knew that, and returning to England with him had been her plan all along?
Admittedly, she had looked shocked at the idea, but Christian still had no proof, either way, whether Lisette was all that she seemed to be.
Indeed, he was more unsure than ever as to what she seemed.
The niece Helene Rousseau claimed her to be? A description which had seemed to startle Lisette when he’d called her such earlier.
Or something else completely?
No doubt Lord Aubrey Maystone, his immediate superior in his work for the Crown, would be more than happy to have the niece of Helene Rousseau in his clutches, after the kidnapping of his young grandson.
What might happen to Lisette once Christian had delivered her into the older man’s hands did not bear thinking about; Christian’s first loyalty might be to the Crown, but he had no evidence that Lisette was guilty of anything, other than the misfortune of being related to Helene Rousseau. Which would make her an innocent pawn, as Aubrey Maystone’s grandson had been.
It was not a risk Christian was willing to take.
‘A ridiculous idea, is it not, when I have only just arrived in Paris and there is still so much for me to enjoy?’ he dismissed lightly.
Lisette blinked at the Comte’s about-turn when, just for a moment, a brief euphoric moment, she had dreamed of escaping Paris, the tavern and her association with Helene Rousseau. To leave France completely and begin again somewhere new, where no one knew her or the shameful secret of her birth she carried with her every moment of every day.
But the Comte was perfectly correct; it would not do, and it was ridiculous of her to have even contemplated the possibility.
She frowned up at him. ‘It is your intention to remain in Paris, even after the things I have told you?’
The Comte gave an indifferent shrug. ‘I thank you for your concern, of course. But I am sure your worries are unfounded and Madame Rousseau will have forgotten all about my flirtation with you by tomorrow.’
Lisette wished she could feel as confident of that. Unfortunately, she could not.
But she had done what she intended tonight, and if the Comte would not take her warning seriously, then there was nothing more she could do. ‘If I might prevail upon your generosity for the use of your carriage to take me back to the Fleur de Lis?’ She really could not bear the thought of travelling back by foot along the streets to the tavern.
‘But of course.’ The Comte gave a charming bow. ‘I will accompany you, of course—’
‘I would rather you did not.’ Lisette replaced and retied her bonnet before reaching for her cloak. ‘I will instruct your coachman to stop a street or two away from the tavern and make my own way back from there.’
Christian scowled his displeasure. ‘That is too dangerous—’
‘Nevertheless, it is what I shall do,’ she stated determinedly.
Not what she ‘intended’ to do, Christian noted with wry amusement, but what she would do. Lisette Duprée might be young in years, but she had a very determined and definite mind of her own.
No more so than he, admittedly, and if she thought he really intended to allow her to walk the Paris streets alone at this time of night, even for a short distance, then she was mistaken.
‘It is far too early for me to retire as yet,’ he informed her airily. ‘I can see you safely returned to the tavern on my way to other entertainments.’
Lisette looked up from refastening her cloak. ‘You are going out again...?’
‘But of course.’ The Comte waved a hand unconcernedly. ‘The gaming hells and...other clubs will only now be becoming interesting.’
Of course they would, Lisette acknowledged heavily. And no doubt the Comte would be luckier with the ladies in those clubs, as well as the cards, now that she had refused to entertain him for the rest of the night.
She had behaved the fool, she realised. A stupid, naive fool, to have believed for one moment that the Comte had any more than a passing interest in her—an interest that had obviously ‘passed’ now that she had made it clear she did not intend to spend the night here with him.
She raised her chin. ‘I am ready to leave now.’
Christian knew by the stiffness of Lisette’s demeanour that he had thoroughly succeeded in alienating her when he’d informed her that he intended to go out again. As had been his intention. His mission in Paris had been clear: to watch Helene Rousseau and make note of the comings and goings of the Fleur de Lis.
It had occurred to him earlier to use an interest in one of the tavern’s serving girls to enable him to observe Helene