A Lasting Impression

would imagine that as her personal liaison—as the dear Mrs. Monroe informed me that you are—you have access to her personal accounts. And judging by the loathing in your eyes at the moment, I’m convinced you would pay a handsome sum to be rid of me. Am I correct?”
    “I don’t have access to Mrs. Acklen’s money, and even if I did, I wouldn’t—”
    “ Get access to it, Claire. Because if you don’t, your part in our arrangement back in New Orleans will come to light in a most unflattering manner, and the world you’ve created for yourself here will come to a very hasty end. And I’m not simply referring to the loss of your job. They prosecute forgers, just like they prosecute the dealers who sell their work. Or haven’t you considered that?”
    Claire didn’t know how to respond. She’d known what she’d done was wrong, and she was ready to admit that and accept the consequences. Or so she’d thought. But . . . prosecution ? As in . . . the possibility of going to jail? That was a cost she hadn’t calculated.
    Sensing movement at the corner of her eye, she tensed. But when she looked, no one was there. It was only Mrs. Acklen’s likeness staring down at her from the portrait. She thought of what Sutton had told her about Adelicia braving two armies, fighting to keep what was hers, and she prayed for a measure of that same strength and courage. What would Adelicia Acklen have done if they’d threatened her with arrest? With going to jail? Claire could only imagine. . . .
    The door handle turned beneath her grip. Panicking, yet having no choice, she pulled the door open.
    Eli looked at her, then at Antoine. “Is everything all right, Miss Laurent?”
    “Yes,” she forced out, her voice tight. “Everything is fine. But . . . my guest is ready to leave. He needs his horse.”
    Eli gave Antoine a thorough study. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll get it right away.”
    “Thank you, Eli.”
    She turned back to see Antoine running a finger along the line of Ruth ’s shoulder, then down her arm to the fragile right hand, where delicately carved fingers extended outward. Claire stepped forward, fearing he intended to do the statue damage.
    Antoine crossed to the door and paused beside her. “I think five hundred dollars would tide me over for now, Claire. I’ll contact you at the end of the week and we’ll arrange to meet.”
    “I’ve told you, I won’t do it.”
    He smiled. “You have until Friday. Use the time wisely. And remember, I’m neither as patient—nor as stupid—a man as was your father.” He touched her face, but she pulled away. “While you may have your mother’s beauty, Claire, you’ll never have her talent. Yours was, and always will be, a cheap imitation.” He gave her chin a hard pinch. “ À bientôt, ma petite.”
    He strode past her. Claire held on to the door, and not until he’d rounded the final bend toward the main gate did she draw a full breath again. “See you soon,” he’d said in farewell.
    And God help her, she believed him.

50

    T he next morning, Claire read the note Sutton had slipped beneath her door sometime during the night, and she knew she was reaping what she’d sown.
Dearest Claire,
Forgive me for not being here when you awaken. Mr. Holbrook and I have meetings with the authorities first thing in the morning. I’ll fill you in this evening, but suffice it to say . . . those prayers you’re praying for me—and this lawsuit—are proving most powerful. I’ll see you at the auction tonight and will be searching the crowds for your smile.
Always your faithful corporal,
Sutton
    Claire rubbed the sleep—or lack thereof—from her eyes. Not only had he been unable to keep yesterday’s lunch appointment due to his case with Mr. Holbrook, but he’d already left for the day. She sighed. This was her punishment for not having told him the truth sooner.
    She’d awakened during the night, thinking about Antoine’s visit and what he’d said. At first she’d worried what would happen if he returned to Belmont. But he wouldn’t return. Because with a word, she could do to him what he was threatening to do to her. No, he would contact her, as he said he would, learn she wasn’t going to give him the money, then ruin her from afar. All very safe, clean, and simple for him.
    But in truth, could he hurt her any more than her own admission was going to hurt her? Yes, but only in one way—if he somehow contacted Sutton first. Which she couldn’t let