The French Encounter: Christian Historical (Window to the Heart Saga Trilogy Book 2)

by Jenna Brandt

  Margaret turned to face her friend and asked with excitement, “What have you heard?”

  “Come now, we both know the marquis is completely taken with you. Many hearts have been broken by the two of you taking up with each other.”

  “I will not apologize for that. I needed the right man to come along to want both me and my son. The marquis is a good man and will do right by both of us.”

  “I agree. He seems to make you happy?”

  It was easy to hear the question at the end of her friend’s statement. If she was honest with herself, she was comfortable with the marquis, but happy? She had come to the realization a long time ago that she would never truly be happy again after Henry’s death. The most she could hope for was contentment. Margaret ignored the uneasiness she felt when thinking about her future with the marquis. Instead, she focused on the protection and safety he offered her family. It would have to be enough.

  Less than an hour later, Margaret walked into the ballroom at the estate of Louis Audoux, the Comte de Delcambre. She was taken aback at the sheer grandness of the event. There were mountains of white marble and ornate gold decor as far as the eye could see, paired with beautiful tables with artfully arranged platters of lush fruits, quiches, and desserts. Servants with gleaming glass trays carrying crystal glasses filled with champagne were zigzagging through all the assembled guests who were decked out in stunning gowns and suits in variations of white, ivory, gold, and cream. It was the most lavish affair Margaret had ever attended. Giddy with anticipation of the upcoming festivities, she held her breath as she glanced around the room, looking for the marquis.

  “He is not here yet.”

  Margaret froze in place. The last time someone had said that to her as she stood looking into a ballroom, it had ushered in the beginning of the end. Was that an omen? Was trouble on the horizon and she just could not see it yet? No, she did not believe in that sort of thing. It was just a coincidence.

  She glanced up to see Pierre standing next to her.

  “Is something wrong, Margaret?”

  “No, I am entirely satisfactory.”

  He gently put his hand on the side of her arm and asked, “May I accompany you inside?”

  Pulling away from his touch, she replied, “Jackie should be here any moment. I would not want to go in without her.”

  Frustrated by her withdrawal, he stated in a vexed tone, “What you mean is that you do not want the marquis to see us together again.”

  “It would make for an uncomfortable situation.”

  “For him, perhaps. It would please me, and I suspect it would you as well.”

  Agitated that he would not let her be, she replied tersely, “Pierre, you need to stop trying to force something between us that is never going to happen.”

  “I think you protest too much because you know it can and will.”

  “I think—”

  But before she could respond, Jackie appeared, laughing and saying, “Look who I found in the entryway.”

  Walking beside her was Monte, and following in their wake was the marquis. He looked displeased to see Margaret and Pierre engaged in such an intimate conversation. He placed his hand under Margaret’s elbow and said, “I was looking for you, Countess.”

  “You seem to have found her,” Pierre said with a hint of sarcasm.

  Ignoring Pierre, the marquis asked, “May I escort you inside, Lady Margaret?”

  “But of course. I would be honored, Lord Robineau.”

  Margaret looked at the marquis with appreciation and avoided making eye contact with Pierre. As she walked with her arm looped through the marquis’s, she noticed his attire for the evening and noted he looked debonair in his regal ivory suit. It had flecks of gold woven through, and he also donned a feathered mask in the same color. He specifically had his suit made to match her gown. As the couple made their way into the ballroom, many of the guests glanced their way. She knew that several of the women were extremely disappointed that the marquis had settled on her to court. She felt pressured to make sure he proposed before anything could stand in their way.

  “Did I mention how dashing you look this eve, Lord Robineau?”

  “Why thank you, Lady Margaret. I must say, you look exquisite in your gown.”

  The first song began to play as they took their places for the first dance. Margaret raised her gloved hand and gently rested it against the marquis’s. As she looked into his eyes, she could see the esteem reflected back. She knew he respected her and cared for her, but was he capable of loving her?

  He was unlike any of the other men she had fallen for in the past. All of them had professed their love quickly and openly. If the marquis felt anything for her beyond fondness, he kept it to himself. It unnerved her that she could not sense what he was feeling.

  She hoped, by the end of the masquerade, she would amply convince him that he could not live without her. If that could happen, then maybe he could finally tell her he loved her.

  Several dances passed and Margaret was trying to enjoy her evening with the marquis, but even though they got along sufficiently, there was a reserved nature between them that had not disappeared, despite all the time they had spent together. They had not even reached the phase in their relationship where they were using each other’s given names. She wanted to bridge the distance between them but was unsure how to go about it. What was keeping them from progressing in their relationship?

  God, help me to find a way to communicate better with the marquis. I want this relationship to work, but I need you to intervene. I do not know what I am doing wrong or why he seems so distant.

  They continued to dance together for the rest of the waltz. When it ended, the marquis escorted Margaret over to where Jackie and Monte were sitting.

  The conversation between the two of them was animated, and as Margaret and the marquis approached them, Jackie said, “Monte, you need to stop getting resentful every time another man asks me to dance. I thought we had agreed to keep this uncomplicated. You were the one who told me you did not want anything serious.”

  “That was in the beginning, but my feelings for you have changed. I want to pursue something more substantial with you.”

  “I find that flattering, but I am happy the way our arrangement is currently.”

  “Is it because I cannot offer you what other men can? Is it because I lack a title of my own as second-born son?”

  “Monte, it has nothing to do with that. I have never let something like that influence my decisions.”

  “Then what? What is it that makes you capable of behaving this way?”

  Jackie glanced to the side and looked at the young man uncomfortably standing nearby. “I am scheduled to dance with someone else for this song, and I need to take my leave.”

  “If you go to dance with him, Jackie, do not expect me to be waiting here for you if you return.”

  “What you choose to do is your choice, as what I choose to do is mine.”

  With that, Jackie stood up and extended her arm to the gentleman next to her. He perfunctorily took her hand, avoiding making eye contact with Monte the entire time.

  Margaret could see the seething anger in Monte’s eyes. He looked as if he were going to explode at any moment. Monte turned his frustration on Margaret.

  “What is wrong with your friend? How can she be so obtuse as to act the way she does?”

  Margaret was shocked that he would be so bold as to say such offensive things about Jackie to her.

  “I will not tolerate you talking to me about the vicomtesse that way.”

  “You will not ‘tolerate’ me talking about her that way? I could not care less what you will tolerate. It is I who should not tolerate you swooning all over my brother, who is clearly uninterested in you. If he truly were, it would be evidenced by a ring on your finger.” Monte jerked her hand towards him and mockingly examined it. “No, I do not see one there. I find no evidence of him wanting to progress your relationship further.�
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  Margaret yanked her hand away from Monte and forced herself not to respond. She glanced up to see the marquis’s reaction, but she found no hint as to what he was thinking. If he cared for her, he should be interjecting, or at the least, as a gentleman, telling his brother to be respectful to her. Instead, he stood by silently and did nothing.

  Mortified, she turned away and quickly left the ballroom. Was Monte right? Was she foolishly spending her energy on a man who was never going to commit to her? She felt so stupid for believing the marquis would ever want someone like her. Her past was too complicated, as was her future. He had said her having a child did not matter, but perhaps he had changed his mind. Perhaps he would rather be with a woman with no complications.

  As she waited for her carriage to arrive to take her home, Margaret made herself hold back the tears threatening to fall. Why did she always pick the wrong men? She seemed to have a knack for it. If Mulchere was not still looking for her brother, she would be tempted to move forward with her plan and leave Europe permanently. But she could not leave, not until she was certain about what happened to her brother.

  “Where will I be taking you, my lady?”

  “She will not be needing your services tonight.”

  Margaret spun around to find Pierre standing behind her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to make sure you are all right.”

  “Why? What did you hear?”

  Pierre stepped forward and closed the space between them. He reached out and touched her cheek. “You look as if you are about to cry. Is this because of the marquis?”

  “It does not matter. I was wrong about him.”

  “Why are you so willing to settle for a man who is not willing to fight for you?” He leaned in towards her and whispered, “I would fight for you, Margaret. I would fight until my dying breath.”

  “Pierre, you always say what I need to hear. I wish things could be different between us.”

  “They can be, Margaret. All you have to do is reach out and take what I am offering.”

  She looked up into his eyes. “What are you offering?”

  “Me. All of me. Every inch of me, from my mind to my body.”

  “Pierre, I cannot go down this path with you. I value our friendship, but what we have cannot go beyond it.”

  “Why, Margaret? You keep rejecting my advances, but you never give me a reason.”

  “We are too different. I need to be with someone who believes in God as much as I do.”

  “You cannot be with me because I do not go to church?”

  “That is not what I mean, and the fact that you think so makes my point for me. It is not about going to church. It is about what you believe, or rather, do not.”

  “I am sorry you feel that way, Margaret. We could be so brilliant together, but you keep running from it and making up excuses. You might want me to give up on the possibility of us, but I am not so easily dissuaded.”

  Margaret moved away from Pierre. “I am going for a walk. Do not follow me.”

  She rushed towards the estate’s gardens and began to move through the maze of bushes. Her head was spinning with the mixture of how she felt about Pierre and the marquis. When she headed to the masquerade that night, she was positive the marquis was the right match for her. But Pierre was right; he was not willing to fight for her. She had accepted that she might have to live without love, but she refused to live without a partner who would defend her.

  God, please help me to see whether or not the marquis is the husband you want for me. I want to protect my family, but I also want to be content. I need you to guide me and show me what to do.

  “Margaret, here you are.”

  She stopped moving when she heard the marquis’s voice. She steadied herself and waited for him to continue with her back to him.

  “I followed after you so that I could discuss what happened, but you were in conversation with the Vidame of Demoulin.”

  He gently pulled her around. “Why will you not face me?”

  Tears hovered in the corner of her eyes. “Because I am exhausted. I am weary from fighting for something that is evidently more important to me than you.”

  “You think that? Was that what you and the vidame were talking about?” Was that jealousy she heard in his voice? If it was, it was the first time he ever demonstrated he was capable of being envious.

  “What I talk to Pierre about is not any of your concern. As your brother pointed out, there is no commitment between us.”

  “My brother was wrong to talk to both you and the vicomtesse the way he did. He has a bad habit of attacking people when he does not get his way. I addressed the problem after you left, which is why I was delayed finding you.”

  “You defended me?”

  “Categorically. You will be receiving an apology from my brother posthaste, as he has recognized the error he made tonight. Notwithstanding what you might believe, I want to continue courting you. I have always been cautious and move at a slower pace than most men do. I am sorry if that caused you to think I do not care. I do.”

  Margaret wanted to believe the marquis. She needed him to be telling the truth because she did not want to give up on their relationship, but it was hard for her to trust anyone after what happened to her back in England.

  “I should have stopped him sooner, and I regret that. I have always had a hard time confronting my brother and keeping him in line. I am sorry that you were hurt by my lack of intervention. Can you forgive me?”

  She looked at the marquis for several seconds before saying, “You did hurt me. I can forgive you this time, but do not do something like that again. I will not be with someone who will not fight for me.”

  “I am not a fighter by nature, but for you, I will make it my ambition to become one.”

  Chapter 9

  Margaret was exhausted from a long night with Jackie and the Robineau brothers, after Monte had apologized to both Margaret and Jackie. Both women chose to forgive him, which led to the reconciliation between Jackie and Monte.

  She had thoroughly enjoyed herself with the marquis, but she found herself constantly thinking about Pierre throughout the night. She watched him from across the room to see who he was talking to and with whom he shared his next dance. Every time another woman flirted with him or made him laugh, Margaret could feel the jealousy she knew she should not feel surface.

  Her attention should have been on the marquis, as he was the man she hoped to marry soon. She knew she cared for him, but the attraction she wanted to feel for him lay dormant while she was persistently fighting her attraction for Pierre.

  Margaret checked in on her son in his nursery before heading towards her chambers. Margaret made her way over to his crib and marveled at how serene he looked, lying there fast asleep. She reached out to touch his brown curly locks of hair that fell across his forehead. He was the best thing in her life and she loved him dearly. She leaned forward and kissed him softly on his cheek. After a few more moments of watching him slumber, she nodded at Sarah to take over watching him as she quietly left the room.

  After heading down the corridor to her rooms, Margaret sat down at her vanity to allow Motty to prepare her for bed. As the girl went about removing the pins from her hair and combing it out, Margaret reflected on the night’s activities.

  Margaret stood up to allow her servant to remove her dress and corset and replace it with her nightgown and robe.

  “Thank you, Motty. That will be all I require for the night.”

  As the girl left Margaret’s chambers, she took out a book to read by the fireplace in her sitting room. She had gotten hooked on the popular French novellas that were the new fashion to read. They were silly stories about love and how to succeed in the game of it. She found the idea of them to be ostentatious, but somehow, she could not stop reading them.

  Captivated by a passage about using love as an art form and how to “paint” the perfect picture, Margaret slightly jumped when a soft
knock came at the door.

  She stood up and put the book on her chair, then walked over to the door. Thinking it was Sarah, she opened it but was shocked to find Pierre standing on the other side instead. It was quite late for him to be visiting, and even more surprising since his suite was on the other side of the estate.

  He looked at her for a moment, then asked, “May I come in?”

  She did not answer right away, but after a few seconds stepped aside so he could enter.

  Pierre looked around and smiled. “I do not think I have even been in these rooms.”

  She laughed. “You have not even seen all of your own estate?”

  He shook his head and said half-seriously, “I have too many of them to spend the time.”

  She gestured for him to sit down across from her. She picked the book up off her chair and placed it on the table between them.

  Glancing at it, Pierre commented, “I see my cousin has enticed you into reading one of those new books about love. Tell me, do you find it as intriguing as she does?”

  Margaret nodded. “I have to admit, despite my best efforts, I find them riveting. I find it amusing to read about people so caught up in finding it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, a love match rarely happens. I had love once in my life, I am not naive enough to think I will have it twice.”

  “I could change your mind about that.” Standing up like a lynx uncurling, he walked over to her, reached down, and yanked her up into his arms. As he leaned forward, he pressed his lips firmly against her own.

  Margaret stopped Pierre by gently pulling away and saying, “I think it is time for us to say good night, Pierre.”

  She watched as he fought to bring his desire under control. Then he stepped back and nodded in acceptance. He stared at her intensely for several moments before he took her hand and kissed the top of it.

  Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers, then asked softly, “Are you sure what you want is for me to say good night, Margaret?”

  Pierre was still holding her hand, and for some reason, she did not find herself pulling away as quickly as she knew she should be.