Paladin96

Sophia sighed heavily for the second time and waited for either Erik or Philippe to react but neither of them turned their heads. Ten minutes of complete silence was starting to make her nervous. The landscape didn't interest her—though apparently it was the most fascinating thing her male counterparts had ever seen. They avoided her gaze and each other's presence by staring out opposite windows.

"I love spring," she said.

Philippe grunted.

"All of the birds chirping and the flowers in full bloom."

Erik glanced at her and nodded before he turned and stared out the window again.

She frowned and pulled at her gloves. "And the baby chicks are running around the yard and then Citrine walks out, grabs one, and chops of its head."

Philippe turned and stared at her with his mouth wide open. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, if no one else intends to speak…"

Again, neither of them replied.

"Oh, for God's sake. I think I'd prefer to be in the company of a corpse on the way to the cemetery." She uncrossed her ankles and accidentally kicked Erik's foot, which garnered his attention.

He looked her in the eye, his gaze filled with apprehension. "How far are we?"

"From the Turro Estate?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I'd say another ten minutes, perhaps," Philippe answered. He arched his back and stifled a yawn. "Fifteen with the way Gabe's driving."

"Tell him to turn around," Erik muttered.

Sophia's eyes widened. "Turn around?"

"And return to your estate?" Philippe asked.

"Tell him to turn around," Erik said again. He gripped the cushion and sat forward.

"But we're almost there," Sophia said.

"About halfway," Philippe corrected. "Are you certain, Monsieur?"

"Yes, yes, tell him to turn around. Now."

Sophia's shoulders hunched at the sound of his voice. She started to reach out and offer what little comfort she could provide but she felt her brother staring at her extended hand.

"But, Monsieur," she started. "I thought—"

"I've reconsidered," he muttered.

Philippe's eyes narrowed. "Reconsidered what, may I ask?"

"You may not."

"You do not intend to tell them what happened to…him…do you?" Philippe asked.

Erik shook his head. He stared out the window, his gaze briefly capturing each tree they passed. "I said tell him to turn around."

"We're almost there," Sophia wasn't sure if Erik heard her. He had the look of a caged animal that didn't know what fate held in store and wanted to escape. "Don't you want to at least see her? You wouldn't have to leave the carriage."

"You want to see Madame Turro? Whatever for?"

Sophia pursed her lips and wanted to kick herself for needing the silence filled. "Never mind, Philippe."

The carriage traveled faster down the road, its wheels hitting what felt like every rock and crevice. Philippe shifted and looked from her to his employer.

"You tempt fate. After everything that happened, you shouldn't want anything to do with these people. If they ever discover what happened, no matter how right it seems in our eyes, they will have both of us sent to the gallows on behalf of their son's death. Justice, Monsieur, to the highest bidder."

"Philippe," Sophia warned.

Erik pounded on the carriage door. "Stop!" he growled. "Stop at once!"

The carriage slowed. Sophia caught sight of a cherry tree outside of her window and knew they had paused directly before the gates. Her heart dropped into her shoes and she closed her eyes.

"Good day, Monsieur Turro," she heard Gabe shout.

"Good day," Monsieur Turro answered. "Who do you have there with you, Monsieur Monteclair?"

Sophia bit her knuckles and listened to Erik's heavy breathing.

"Come now, Anatole, I'm starving and I've barely seen the inside of my own home."

Her eyes popped open to the sound of a woman's voice. She stared at Erik, who had sat with his back pressed against the dark velvet cushion. She couldn't tell for certain in the meager light, but she could have sworn he'd gone pale.

"I have my employer," Gabe answered. "And Monsieur and Mademoiselle Dupree."

"Your employer?" Monsieur Turro questioned. "I thought you worked for your father."

Erik's gaze darted around, his hands alternately clenching and relaxing.

"We're working for Monsieur Erik Belmont," Gabe answered.

There could have been silence for an eternity and Sophia wouldn't have noticed. She continued to stare at Erik, who looked more hopeless than ever. His lips trembled with unspoken words, his brow furrowed as though he were in pain.

"Belmont?" Madame Turro questioned, her voice low. "There is someone living in that manor now?

"Yes, Madame. Only since this winter."

"Why don't you have them come inside?" Madame Turro said. "I'm sure Sabine won't mind making another pot of coffee."

The carriage lurched forward. At last Sophia breathed.

-o-

She sounded exactly like he remembered: Calm and pleasant, a voice that exuded tenderness. He couldn't decide if he wanted to fling open the door and see her or demand that Gabe turn around and return home.

But now she knew he was there, on her property, and there was no turning back. He knew she would remember him. His cynical thoughts reminded him he possessed an unforgettable face.

"I will not tell you twice, Erik. Stay close. No wandering off."

He turned from the window and glanced at Sophia, who stared back at him with her lips pursed and her hands clasped. She looked as terrified as he felt and he wondered what had made her so nervous.

"I haven't seen Monsieur and Madame Turro in almost a year. When was the last time you saw them, Philippe?"

"Months ago," he mumbled. "Midsummer."

"You know Madame Turro makes the best blackberry jam I've ever tasted," Sophia said. "Which of course I know you remember quite well because you ate the entire jar by yourself."

Philippe opened his mouth to speak and then turned away. "Am I the only person who has no idea why we are here?"

Erik and Sophia exchanges glances before the carriage came to a halt and they felt the cab gently rock as Gabe left the driver's seat.

"Yes, there will be many people. Remember how we watched them carry the tents?"

"What do you intend to do?" Philippe questioned softly.

"Speak with Madame…" Erik paused and swallowed, deciding no matter what she called herself she would never be Madame Turro.

Gabe opened the carriage door and painfully bright light entered the dark interior. For a moment he paused, old memories flicking through his thoughts.

Stay close.

He saw her kind eyes and her youthful face, remembered the way her dimples deepened when she laughed.

I will not tell you twice.

His head swirled much as it did when she'd grabbed him by the wrists and swung him around in circles until he thought for certain he could fly.

Absolutely no wandering off. We're not at home any more.

If only she would let him go.

And then she had let him go, and instead of flying he had sunk five floors beneath the earth's surface.

"Here, Monsieur, may I be of assistance?" A leather-clad hand extended into the cab and Erik grabbed Sophia and pulled her forward. She glanced back at him, her eyes wide, but she didn't voice her protest.

With only a glance Erik told Philippe to exit next. He still needed a moment despite knowing there were not enough minutes in the day to properly compose himself.

"Monsieur Belmont?"

At last he moved forward and stared out the cab door at the small crowd gathered around. There, standing with her arm around Sophia, was a woman whose face bore more wrinkles and whose hair was threaded with more silver than he had expected.

They stared at one another briefly. Erik felt his heart lodge in his throat as he waited for her to address him—her guest. Her son.

A hand grasped his arm and before he could turn Monsieur Turro clapped him hard on the back. "It's far too cold to stand out here all day." Another hard clap to the spine and Erik nearly lost his balance. "We've just returned with food and wine. It seems our son was in quite a rush to explore India."

The old man ushered him toward the open doorway, his footsteps short and choppy. Erik glanced over and saw the rail thin girl on Monsieur Turro's arm, and realized she was guiding the old man indoors.

"I owe you many thanks for saving my horses." Turro stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused and unblinking. "I shall have my wife draft a check at once."

"There is no need," he said at last, surprised he'd found his voice.

"Then I shall find another way to repay you, Monsieur Belmont."