He looked at the miniature on the fireplace, "However, nothing has changed. You may have been taken against your will, but it does not signify. I may not alter what has occurred. Indeed, perhaps in a strange way providence has intervened. Nevertheless, you will be my wife and I will not have you dress like a courtesan. I have my pride."
"Philippe, this gown came from John Pierre. Obviously, he cares little for your opinion and heeds only his own. The fit is perfect. He knew my proportions precisely. Do you not understand? It was made for me. Something is terribly wrong."
His eyes narrowed and he began to pace.
"If you do not believe me, look above you," Nicolette pointed.
He sighed, then went back to the fireplace, "I’ve seen it before. It is a wonderful likeness."
"You do not understand!" she glanced at him, noting his confusion. "That portrait is of my mother. It is the painting that was done on her wedding day and has been missing since!"
Philippe turned, his head snapped up, "Mon Dieu!"
"I found this in one of the drawers in my room," the fan snapped open with a flick of her wrist, the white silk and bright red cherry blossoms bursting forth in a flurry of color. "Does it look familiar?"
Philippe’s face turned pink. He stepped forward and took the fan from her hand.
Nicolette pointed to the name engraved on the ivory handle, "Sweet Madeleine."
Philippe turned it over in his hand then closed his eyes.
"I had this made especially for Madeleine. She loved spring when cherry blossoms floated through the air in our orchard at home. Perhaps there is more here that belonged to her. May I search your room later?"
Nicolette sighed. If she could only convince him of Laurent’s innocence, perhaps he would forget about his need for revenge and release her. "Philippe, did you know of anyone that was close to Madeleine while she was in Paris? A man perhaps?"
"No," he began to pace the room.
"Did you ask John Pierre?" She received no reply. Nicolette suddenly wanted to plead for help, but when she gazed into the expressionless gray eyes she knew it would be useless.
Jamie had once told her that you must outwit your adversary. Perhaps, instead of begging for help, her best defense might be to drive a wedge between the two friends.
She stepped in front of Philippe and he stopped suddenly.
"Is it not strange that Madeleine’s fan was here, in the very room in which I am staying? Have you asked John Pierre if she stayed here?"
"I did not have to ask him."
Nicolette was surprised, "Why not?"
"Because I remember perfectly well, I’m not an imbecile. You may think me nothing more than a vile, selfish beast, but there was a time when I was so much more. Madeleine was the best part of me, the perfect part, the chaste and good part. She was an angel and my twin. Did you know that?"
Nicolette shook her head, "No. I did not realize."
"She was beautiful, my Madeleine, and so full of life. Everyone loved her and I adored her. She loved me, and protected me from Father when we were children. I was a great disappointment to him, and his feelings were obvious," Philippe shrugged. "Considering him simply unkind would have been a great compliment. In order to appease him for each of my evil deeds Madeleine was twice as good, as if by doing so she could atone for my sins." Philippe paced again then turned to face her, "I had almost forgotten what it meant to be loved. She believed that I was brave, not cowardly. She often said I was her own personal dragon slayer."
He whispered, "She loved me, my sweet Madeleine, and I failed her." He smiled. "I remember a time when Laurent was so enthralled with her that he could barely speak without stumbling over his words. He was like a small boy, awed by her beauty."
Nicolette thought she saw a flicker of regret in Philippe’s eyes.
"I recalled that today. I had forgotten how much your brother seemed to care for her." He cleared his voice, "I also remembered that Madeleine was often attending social functions while in Paris. She spent much of her time at Versailles. She seldom had time for me, but she did speak of being in love. I assumed it was with Laurent. This afternoon I have given this much consideration. In fact I have thought of nothing else."
John Pierre entered the room dressed as though he had been at court. He wore gold satin breeches, a white waistcoat with gold embroidery, a heavy white and gold damask long coat, and a dress sword, with an extravagantly detailed hilt. His eye patch matched his waistcoat, a detail that she thought ridiculous.
Nicolette’s stomach suddenly tied into knots, and a wave of nausea washed over her. She forced herself to take a deep breath. This was no time to allow fear to control her emotions! She watched her uncle, his gaze seemed fixed on her bodice as it rose and fell. She turned away in embarrassment, and noticed Philippe’s eyes widen as he noted John Pierre’s leering gaze.
"Genevieve. How lovely you look tonight," then her uncle turned and looked at the portrait. "You haven’t aged at all my dear, not a day in all these years."
She gasped then took a step back, "Genevieve? Uncle it is I, Nicolette. Remember? Nicolette, your niece, not Genevieve."
John Pierre turned away, "Of course." He looked confused, but a moment later appeared quite recovered, "Now then, your conversation seemed very interesting. What were you saying."
Nicolette folded her hands across her chest, "How is Marie? I wish to see her."
He took a menacing step toward her, "I told you not to mention her. If you say one more word, I will have her beaten or worse. Do you understand?"
Nicolette nodded. Fear etched in her stance. John Pierre’s gaze once more returned to her bodice, and Nicolette shuddered.
Philippe had long since wiped the shock from his face and he smiled. His demeanor seemed urbane and smooth, as he turned and placed his hand on the mantle. "When you came in, I was simply stating that our wedding should take place tonight, that is if we can find a priest."
Surprised at the deception, she smiled, then decided that perhaps Philippe had begun to mistrust her uncle.
He continued, "The banns have been read. I had them done before I left Paris, and the gown you have chosen for Nicolette has caused my desire for the nuptials to spiral. She is so very lovely that I insist we must proceed posthaste." He smiled, "You understand."
John Pierre’s eyebrow rose, "Indeed?" He turned. His lone repulsive eye once more gazing at her bodice.
The butler entered the room and announced dinner.
John Pierre smiled, "We will discuss your marriage later. Shall we dine?" He offered Nicolette his arm. She had no choice but to take it when he leaned down to help her rise. When he drew near, she noticed a peculiar odor and again felt her stomach lurch. She glanced up and realized he had not taken his gaze from her bodice. She had never before felt so ill at ease and turned away.
"I had this gown made especially for you my dear. It gives me great pleasure to see you wearing it. Indeed, the greatest pleasure."
Nicolette watched his tongue lick his fat upper lip, as he glared at her breasts.
"I have waited so long. Perhaps later when we are alone you will understand how much my desire for you has..." his voice drifted off as he licked his lips again.
As he seated her, his hand moved leisurely across her bare back and she shuddered. He leaned over her, continuing to stare, his lower body rubbing obscenely against her arm. Tears of sheer frustration blurred her vision as she wondered what she could do to keep John Pierre from touching her again. She glanced across the table, and found bewilderment in Philippe’s eyes. He was surprised, and did she see a glimmer of something else?
He gazed into her eyes as if he meant to convey that he needed her understanding, "As I was saying, the wedding ceremony must take place tonight. I should take control of Laurent’s property immediately. I will not postpone this unnecessarily."
Her gaze snapped toward her uncle. She wondered if she should admit that she knew what had happened to Jamie and Laurent.
&n
bsp; "Why would Philippe take over our estate?" she whispered. "What has happened to my brother?" Her head began to pound mercilessly as she thought of him imprisoned, hurt and miserable. She rubbed her brow.
John Pierre smiled, and she wanted to slap his hideous face.
"My dear, Laurent no longer lives at home. Do not distress yourself, it is only temporary."
"Yet..."
"Hush for now, my dear. Silence! I insist. We will discuss this later."
Nicolette’s mind raced. Her stomach suddenly rolled and her breathing became erratic. She rubbed her temples. The Bastille! He had Laurent taken to the Bastille, and perhaps had Jamie killed, yet, he sat there serenely with a satisfied look and smug smile. Tears welled in her eyes and her face grew warm. Pain etched deep into her soul.
"Dear God, what have you done, Uncle? Tell me."
"Philippe, you have upset her! You are terribly inconsiderate. This is not an occasion in which to discuss business. No, tonight we will enjoy our meal and discuss pleasurable pursuits. Do you both understand?"
"Uncle!"
"Hush!" John Pierre’s voice rang loudly across the room.
"John Pierre..."
"Silence." he said quietly, then waived Philippe’s question away with the flourish of his hand. Taking a sip of wine, the red liquid lingered on his huge lower lip before rolling down his chin. It dripped onto the lace fall at his neck causing a large burgundy stain.
Philippe took a sip of red wine, "I see you have a miniature of Madeleine in the other room."
John Pierre flushed, "I am sorry but I do not recall."
"It was in the sitting room on the mantle."
"Of course. I do apologize, I am afraid my memory seems to be a bit elusive," John Pierre smiled. "Madeleine sat for that portrait while here in Paris. I asked for it when it was finished. She was kind to an old gentleman."
Philippe nodded, "Indeed, she was compassionate. I remember this particular miniature well. She had it made for the man she loved."
John Pierre choked on his next sip of wine, "She mentioned nothing of the kind to me, I assure you."
"She never suggested giving it to you. I find that surprising since she discussed everything with me."
John Pierre’s voice shook, "What are you insinuating?"
Philippe’s face grew red, "I am implying nothing but questioning everything."
John Pierre’s eyes widened, "I have warned you before, do not challenge me, and do not forget the power that is mine."
Her gaze moved from one to the other, each looked furious. A curiously ominous feeling seemed to fill her. This battle was far beyond anything she had experienced. Sheer terror began to build and she realized she had to escape this house.
"Uncle, I asked Philippe when I could return home. When he told me his plan, I agreed that we should marry tonight."
Philippe’s eyes widened and a genuine smile lit his face. Strange, but he did not seem to be the fiend she had envisioned earlier. Or, perhaps he was simply the lesser of two evils.
Philippe raised his glass, saluted her then took a sip. "So, the bride is willing, send for the priest."
John Pierre’s voice was sharp, "I told you that we will have a casual and entertaining evening. I do not wish to speak of it again." John Pierre took another sip of wine, "As to your question Niece, I have changed my mind on Philippe’s suitability. There will be no wedding."
Nicolette glanced at Philippe and saw his face flush a bright red again. He started to rise.
"Sit down," John Pierre’s shouted. "I mean immediately or I shall call Gourville."
Philippe sank back into his chair, his face instantly pale.
"Gourville remains here?"
"Indeed. He never leaves my side."
She could almost read the indecision on Philippe’s face.
"What do you mean there will be no wedding?" his voice was high and thin, but there was no shock in his tone.
"Genevieve wishes to remain with me. She has changed her mind about your betrothal. There will be no marriage, at least between the two of you," John Pierre smiled at her. "I have much more interesting plans for her."
Philippe eyes widened and his face became pale, "She is not Genevieve, but Nicolette, your niece. Remember?"
"Ah yes, indeed. Well no matter. I wish to visit with her for a time. Since you are such an inveterate coward you will accept my decision."
John Pierre took a deep breath, "It has been many years since I have seen her, and it is only natural that I want to spend time with her now. I intend to see much more of her, much, much more." John Pierre’s raspy laughter filled the room as his gaze immediately dropped to her breasts.
Confusion washed over her. She did not quite understand John Pierre’s jest, yet she did understand his depraved, lewd stare. Feeling debased and embarrassed, she shrank into the chair. She looked between her uncle and Philippe then suddenly remembered her idea. Her fingers toyed with her crystal goblet, as she gazed distractedly at the sparkling burgundy liquid. "Philippe was speaking of Madeleine earlier. Did you know her?"
John Pierre’s gaze snapped to her, "Indeed I did. She was a very lovely young woman and so sweet."
Nicolette said faintly, "Did she spend time here, with you?"
John Pierre’s lone gray eye widened and he looked surprised, "No, indeed not. Philippe never brought her with him when he visited. Being a lady, she would not come alone. She was truly an innocent, wouldn’t you say Philippe."
"Indeed." He looked at her, "I was very protective while she stayed in Paris. I introduced her to the best people, exclusively, and I insured that she was chaperoned. Only today I remembered that I entrusted her to your care when I was called home."
John Pierre’s face became mottled, "Indeed, in fact I saw her often at Versailles. She was quite alone then and afraid." John Pierre smiled, "Defenseless."
Philippe overturned his wine, and Nicolette’s heart jumped. A servant rushed nervously forward to mop up the liquid. It seemed that everyone, except her uncle, could feel the tension.
"I was out today, John Pierre. I visited some of my old friends and heard disturbing stories. Do you remember how distraught I was when Madeleine died? I went home then."
John Pierre nodded.
Philippe paused then took a sip of wine, "I understand that during the time Madeleine remained alone in Paris there had been some disgusting gossip about her. So vile, in fact, that when the King heard of it, he commanded that no one speak of it again. He feared such a filthy story would defile the nobility, and cause the people to question our right to rule."
Philippe took a deep breath, "After finding the miniature I have spent the afternoon investigating. I remembered that Madeleine was quite ill before we returned to our estate, every morning she would have a terrible sickness. That was only a few weeks after I came back to Paris from the country."
John Pierre’s eyebrows rose, "Yes. Well that confirms that she was indeed with child."
"Except, now I finally realize that Laurent has been completely honest. He was not the father. He had not been in Paris for months and Madeleine had not been home," Philippe’s gaze never left John Pierre’s. Then he looked directly into Nicolette’s eyes.
"I regret that I turned my back on Laurent. He advised me of letters he had found, proof of his innocence, and evidence of the other man’s identity. Now I wish I would have listened."
"It is not too late, is it? You could still speak to him."
Philippe shrugged, "I am sorry to tell you, but John Pierre had him taken to the Bastille. Hopefully he’s still alive, but whether they will allow him a visitor is another question."
"The Bastille!" Nicolette burst out, her outrage so potent that she did not have to feign surprise. She toyed with the knife by her plate. "How could you Uncle, he is your nephew, your own blood!" she fought the urge to stab him.
"Quiet Nicolette! It is done. If you wish him to live you will remain silent."
Philippe shook his hea
d, "Sadly, I must add that your betrothed is with him, that is if the Highlander survived."
"How dare you do such a thing? First to Laurent and then to me, I love Jamie!" she refused to allow the tears that filled her eyes to fall. She would never let him see her cry!
Jamie could not save her from this demon, possessed maniac. Her heartbeat raced and her repulsion grew. She wished this were all only a horrible nightmare, but a sob that she refused to utter tore into her throat and she accepted the bitter reality.
John Pierre sat perfectly still. Silent rage seemed to flow through his body and a look of absolute hatred burned from his single pale gray eye toward Philippe. She shuddered, as fear for Philippe overcame her. Did he not realize her uncle was mad?
John Pierre spoke, the anger grating through his voice, causing his words to slur, "How dare you speak to Genevieve of this, look how you’ve upset her."
"Genevieve?" her voice shook as she screamed. "I am your niece. I am not my mother!"
John Pierre appeared not to hear her and from the look on his face she expected him to rise and attack Philippe any moment.
"My Lord, there is a gentleman at the door who insists that he speak to you." The footman’s voice wobbled.
John Pierre threw his napkin to the table, "And his name?"
"Major Cedric Forester." the footman handed John Pierre a card. "He claims to be the English attaché to the court, and here on official business."
"Forester?" John Pierre seemed puzzled, "And what could he want now, I have already given him what he desired."
Forester, the name was familiar but from where? Nicolette tried to remember. Forester! The meadow, the day Jamie had the dinner brought to her room, the night Laurent told her of the time the man had tried to kill Jamie. She suddenly felt as thought she might faint again. She took a deep breath. Jamie was either dead or at Forester’s mercy. Did her uncle receive payment for such an evil deed, or had he done it only for a depraved sense of pleasure? The man was a demon.
John Pierre’s voice filled the void, "Show Forester into the library, and tell him I will be with him in a few minutes."
He stood, "You see my sweet Genevieve, I am quite an important man now. No longer the second son and I will soon inherit the title upon my nephew’s death. You will wish to marry me for there will be no reason for your refusal. It will not be as it was before, this time you will not escape me."
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