Ainsley’s mouth fell open in a most unladylike pant. “It’s nice to meet you,” she finally stammered when Cecelia made a motion for her to close her lips.
Allen bowed over Ainsley’s hand. “Miss…?” He asked the question subtly with a raised brow.
“You may call me Ainsley, Allen,” she said. His brow shot up even farther. And then he bowed over her hand.
Claire clapped her hands together. “I believe we’ve a mission today. Who’s coming?”
“You’re not taking the children?” Marcus asked.
“Now we know how to get Marcus to stay at home. We should take the children everywhere we go,” Ainsley whispered to Cecelia. She laughed and covered her mouth.
“The children are staying with me,” his mother said, as she took the baby Cecelia held in her free arm. “You all run along now. Have a good time. Find a killer. Take a walk in the park, if it’s not too late. Then come back and get the children.”
Everyone knew that Claire wouldn’t leave her children for long, not even with her mother. “Who all is going?” Marcus asked.
“You, me, Lord Phineas, and Cecelia, since she speaks French.” Claire patted her husband’s arm. “Finn doesn’t want me searching for killers without him.”
“Can I go?” Ainsley asked.
Claire shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
“Mr. Thorne, would you like to join us?” Ainsley asked.
Allen tugged at his cravat, and Marcus forced himself not to roll his eyes. “I’m not certain that would be wise,” Marcus said.
“Why not?” Allen barked.
Marcus heaved a sigh. “Because you’re not fae?”
Finn clapped Allen on the shoulder. “We humans have to stick together. I vote that we take him.”
“I just came to collect Cecelia for our ride in the park,” Allen said. His brother raised a brow at Cecelia.
“I’m so sorry, Allen,” Cecelia rushed to say. “We have a mission.” She shot a quick glance at Marcus. “But we’d love for you to join us.”
Marcus thought Allen looked much too pleased by that invitation, damn his hide. “That settles it.” Claire reached into the painting and pulled out a separate painting of Sainte-Chappelle. She hung it on the wall and then said, “Pick me up and put me in, Finn. It’s so much easier than climbing.”
Lord Phineas didn’t even blink before he picked his wife up and put her feetfirst into the painting. She held a hand back through the void and pulled him through with her. Then she held her hand through again. “Your turn, Ainsley?” Allen asked.
Ainsley lowered her eyelashes coquettishly. “Don’t just stand there. Be a dear and pick me up.”
Allen looked more than a bit uncomfortable, but he picked her up and gently shoved her through the painting as she held Claire’s hand. Then he followed.
“Cecelia?” Marcus asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, as she hitched her skirts up a little higher and climbed in all by herself.
“You could have just let me do it!” he called behind her.
“If I’d wanted you to touch me, I would have,” she called back.
Good Lord, he was in for a long afternoon. He took Claire’s hand and dived headfirst into the painting.
Six
Climbing into a painting was easier than climbing out of one. Climbing out when someone could be watching was particularly precarious. Claire went out first and reached a hand in to pull the others free when she saw that the way was unobstructed. Then she hid the painting, their way home, in the bushes behind a nearby building.
Cecelia brushed the dust from her dress and looked around. Sainte-Chappelle was a sight to behold when one was inside, with all its glass windows. “Beautiful,” Marcus breathed.