Games (Timeless Series)

by Loyd, Sandy

  “What’s this,” a man from the group asked. “Is she still trying to find a mate for the likes of you? I told her there wasn’t a woman alive who’d put up with you, so not to bother.”

  Snorting, Simon grinned. “Why do I even try to be nice to the two of you?” He picked up his drink and took a sip, then he offered his hand. “Hello, Charlie. I see married life agrees with you. You’re not dead yet.”

  “Stop your badgering, both of you,” Constance scolded while the two shook hands. Turning to a young blonde, she added, “Simon, I’d like to introduce you to Sarah MacKay. Sarah, Simon Harrington.”

  Simon bowed, took her offered hand, and brought it to his lips. “It’s my pleasure, Miss MacKay. Would you like to dance?”

  Sarah’s blush crept up her face. She smiled shyly. “I’d love to, Mr. Harrington.”

  ~~

  When the two left the group, Charlie turned to Constance. “Will you leave the man alone.”

  “But, Charlie, he’s lonely.”

  Her husband erupted into a fit of laughter.

  “Look around the room, my dear,” he said when he could speak. “Every available female in here has her eyes on Simon right now, wishing she could be the one he’s leading out there. He has his pick whenever he wants. I can assure you, the man is not lonely.”

  “Oh, Charlie, what do you know. You’re just a man.”

  The word “women” could be heard as he swept her along in his embrace, effectively silencing her.

  ~~

  Simon enjoyed another hour or so, dancing, talking, eating tidbits from trays, and drinking with his many friends who also attended this affair at the White House. It was obvious he wasn’t lonely, at least not for feminine companionship. Beautiful women had surrounded him from the moment he led Sarah back to his friends. Also, Constance’s ploy worked, because Sarah was never without a partner from then on. When the time came for Simon to take his leave, many disappointed feminine sighs floated around the room.

  Chapter 6

  Giselle raced up the stairs in time to see three children scrambling around like chickens running amuck while the two nannies chased behind attempting, unsuccessfully, to keep them under control.

  “You’re just in time.” Libby said, appearing at the door and laughing. “We’re almost ready to leave. Can you help Minnie and Maizie?”

  “Of course.” She nodded and grabbed little Rebecca, who was slower than her older siblings. Holding on to the child, she followed the noise to offer her help.

  Finally the Thorpes’ carriage rolled down the drive to the main road.

  With the quiet descending on the household, Giselle breathed a sigh of relief and headed for her room to pack a bag for her trip to Shelbyville.

  Three forlorn children trailed behind and now watched her from the doorway.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go, too, Auntie G,” said Sam, the oldest at five. “With Mama and Papa gone, who’ll play with us?”

  Giselle put down the blouse she was about to pack and smiled warmly at the precocious child. “I am sure Minnie and Maizie will keep you company. Plus you have your sisters.” She sat down and patted the spot beside her. They all scampered inside the room and up on the bed. Hugging them, she said, “I will miss you, but I also miss my mama and papa. I have not seen them in a while. You would not want me to miss seeing them, would you?”

  Three-year-old Melanie piped up. “You hafta see your mama and papa, Auntie G. We unerstan’. Don’t we, Sam?”

  “Yes.” Sam nodded bravely.

  “I will not be gone long,” Giselle whispered, giving all three one more hug. “How about I bring you something? What would you like from the general store?”

  “Sweets!” they shouted unanimously.

  Chuckling, Giselle stood. “Sweets, it is. Now go and find Minnie and Maizie while I finish packing, s’il vous plais. I want to leave as soon as possible, so I can be back more quickly.”

  One by one they climbed down from the bed and rushed from the room, Sam in the lead and baby Rebecca trailing.

  Giselle wondered where they got all their energy. She ignored the twinge of envy she felt toward Libby. Children weren’t in her near future. Refusing to dwell on the reasons why, she grabbed her bag, headed out of her room, down the stairs, and out to the stables where Jake had a horse waiting.

  Once mounted, she directed the gelding toward the main road.

  After an easy ride, she dismounted in front of her sister’s dress shop. Giselle waved, spying her sister from the window.

  Marguerite Dubois rushed out, hugged her, and then pulled her into the store. “I cannot believe it has been ages. You should not have stayed away so long.”

  “You are right.” Giselle laughed gaily. “How have you been? Where are Mama and Papa?”

  “At home. Mama was not expecting you for another hour or so. Come. Let me show you my new designs. Then we can go find them.”

  Marguerite led Giselle into a back room, filled with bolts of silks and satins of every color, steel female forms, some with gowns in various stages of being completed, and other sewing clutter. Marguerite moved over to an armoire, opened it, and took out a dress.

  Giselle rushed up and touched the beautiful garment. “Oh, Marguerite. You have outdone yourself. It is absolutely magnifique.”

  “Oui, I think so too. I also think it would look divine on you.” Marguerite held the burgundy silk creation up to Giselle. “After all, I had you in mind when I thought it up. No one else will do it justice.”

  “What a wonderful surprise.” Giselle fingered the silk admiringly. “Thank you, Marguerite. You are too generous.”

  “Mon Dieu. It is not much. Just a little time and material. What I really love is seeing how my gowns look on beautiful women. You and Libby make my creations come alive.” She eyed her sister thoughtfully. “It is also good for business. When people see the two of you wearing my gowns, my business goes up the next month.”

  “I have to try this on. Here, help me,” Giselle said excitedly, suppressing a delighted gurgle.

  “In a minute. Let me show you what I created for Libby.” She took out another gown and held it up to Giselle.

  “Libby will love it. This color is perfect for her. Where did you find this exquisite midnight blue satin?” Giselle sighed. “It is such a shame that your talent is wasted here in Shelbyville. You should be in Paris.”

  Marguerite’s soft laughter filled the room. “Non, Giselle. I do not need to be in Paris to create beautiful clothes. Making gowns for you and Libby gives me plenty of joy. Besides, as I have always said before, the ladies in Shelbyville like dressing well and I provide the means. You do not need to be in a big city to want to look nice. I do very well here and now I will never leave.”

  She caught the secret smile her sister sported, which, along with her words, caused Giselle to take a closer inspection of her face. Her beautiful sister glowed. With a knowing smile, she said, “Come now, Marguerite. Confess. Something is going on that you are not telling me. You seem happy. In fact, you are beaming with happiness.”

  “I could never fool you. I think I have found someone to love. But I am not sure how he feels.”

  Giselle squealed and tried to hug her sister, but was hampered because Marguerite held a ball gown in each hand.

  “Let me hang Libby’s gown up and then I will tell you all about Martin while I help you try on your gown,” Marguerite said, laughter spilling from her voice. “I am dying to see how you look in it.”

  “So, the mystery man’s name is Martin?” She paused. “I do not know any Martin. Is he new to Shelbyville?”

  Marguerite moved to hang up both gowns, then glanced over her shoulder, and nodded. “Oui. He has been here about four months now. He bought the old Henderson farm not too far from town. Turn around. Let me help you out of your clothes.”

  Sitting, Giselle took off her boots. Then, with Marguerite’s help, she stepped out of her riding habit. “Well, do not keep me in su
spense. Tell me about him.”

  Marguerite remained silent until Giselle was down to her chemise. She took the gown off the hanger. Giselle lifted her arms. The dress slithered down her body as her sister said, “He is a widower. His wife’s death is the reason he moved here. He wanted a fresh start. Someplace that did not remind him of her. They had only been married a couple of years.” She stopped speaking to adjust the gown. “Giselle, it seems his life parallels mine. It is amazing how much we have in common. And he is so handsome. He will never replace André. After all, he was my first love. I thought no one would be able to make my heart pound faster as André did. Can you believe it? Best of all, Martin also makes me laugh. I never thought another man would ever have the ability to do that.”

  Glancing at her sister’s face reflected in the cheval glass, Giselle smiled at her obvious joy. Then she looked at her own reflection and all thought of Marguerite’s love evaporated from her mind. The low neckline of the dress highlighted her ample breasts and swanlike neck. The luxurious fabric outlined her body, accentuating every curve, definitely adding to her feminine appeal. She barely recognized the person staring back.

  “Mon Dieu! Look at me. I am a goddess. How did you know what to do to make me look like this?”

  “It is not the dress, silly. You are a goddess. It just takes a little color and form to bring it out, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Oh, Marguerite, I love the dress. I cannot imagine where I will ever be able to wear it, though.” She broke off, turning this way and that to better see her reflection. She shrugged. “As if I would let that stop me. I will simply wear it to dinner with Libby and Colin. They always dress, so I will not be out of place, but I hate to waste this on a dinner with just the two of them.” She gazed thoughtfully at the glass. Sighing, she said, “I envy you, Marguerite. You are so lucky to have someone who gives you a reason to wear a dress such as this. Wearing your creations always makes me feel powerful. Such a pity, I have no one who is worth the effort of enchanting. I would really relish captivating the right man.”

  “You merely have not met him yet.” Marguerite grinned, her expression all-knowing. “I know how you love to flirt and you are not happy unless you are attracting some new man, having him fall on his knees at your feet. But mark my words. At some point, the right one will come along and you will have no choice in the matter. Love will take you by storm, and you will be the one to fall hard. Here, turn around and let me see what needs to be adjusted.”

  Complying, Giselle pivoted. Her skeptical eyes met her sister’s laughing eyes in the looking glass, and she let out a disbelieving humph. “I am beginning to think there is no one out there for me. I doubt I will ever fall in love.”

  “Do not be so sure,” Marguerite said, shaking her head.

  “How can I not be when no one I have met to date holds my attention for long?”

  “Bah! Those men are but fools who fall all over a pretty face and soft words.” She dismissed Giselle’s admission with the wave of her hand. “Here, let us get you out of that gown so we can run along. I am sure Mama and Papa will be expecting us.”

  “I like being a pretty face and saying soft words,” she said, laughing at her sister’s accurate description of the men she’d met, while struggling out of the gown.

  “Is that all you are?”

  “Well, no.” Then picking up her blouse and slipping into it, she asked, “But is that not what the men want?”

  “I guess some do and those men are all wrong for you. They know nothing of what is inside of you. They never bother to look deeper because the surface suits them fine. Yet that is the very reason they do not hold your interest for long.”

  Giselle was silent as she turned to allow help with her buttons. Marguerite’s assertion brought forth thoughts of Simon Harrington. He saw her differently than the other men she’d known. Was that why she had found him so interesting? Maybe her sister was on to something.

  “What you say makes sense.” She shrugged, watching her sister’s capable hands move quickly. “I did meet someone last summer while I was in Louisville. He is different.”

  Marguerite stopped buttoning Giselle’s blouse and glanced at Giselle. “Ah, so a suitable gentleman has finally captured your attention, non?”

  Giselle gave her head a forceful shake. “Non, it is not like that. He is definitely unsuitable, but he did capture my attention.”

  “You met someone and you did not share the news with me?” Her expression turned curious and her eyebrows rose. “What I want to know is why you chose to keep the information to yourself,” she asked as she finished the last button.

  “Because there is no information to tell. This happened months ago and is irrelevant now,” Giselle said in an irritated tone, turning around and stepping into the split skirt of her habit.

  “Then why do you still remember him?”

  She stopped her movements, holding the skirt in place. “Well, maybe he was worth remembering. At least a little bit.” A smile took over her face as she continued dressing. “But he is also the most infuriating man I have ever met and if I ever set eyes on him again, he will get an earful.” Her voice held much more vehemence than she’d intended.

  “So tell me about him.” Marguerite’s expression turned speculative. “Where did you meet him?”

  Giselle’s soft laughter erupted. “Why the inquisition? There is nothing to tell. I met Simon at a ball. We danced and he escorted me to dinner. But I danced with dozens of men that night.”

  “Yet you remember only one.” Her sister tugged the skirt, righting it, while Giselle stood still.

  “Non! I remember others besides Simon,” she replied, raising her chin and meeting Marguerite’s probing gaze.

  “Seems like a lot happened in such a short time for you to be calling him by his first name,” Marguerite stated patiently, her expression saying she was having none of Giselle’s denials.

  “Oh, please,” Giselle scoffed, waving her hand. “You are starting to sound like a matchmaker and it is unbecoming.”

  “I am simply curious. There is something in your voice when you talk about him.” Marguerite distractedly turned her attention to a gown on a mannequin. She began pinning seams together and making an adjustment on the bodice. “I wonder why, is all.”

  “That is because he has the ability to set my teeth on edge. Simon Harrington is an odious man and I thank God he is not around to annoy me further.”

  “Simon Harrington?” She broke off, thinking. “Why does the name seem familiar? Have you spoken of him before?”

  “The name seems familiar because we met him in Paris. He is an associate of Papa’s. Now do you see why he is so unsuitable?”

  She gave an unconcerned shrug. “I do not remember him. Why would having an association with Papa make him unsuitable?” She finished her adjustments and patted the mannequin. “There, this dress is ready for Mrs. Meyers to try on.”

  “Really, Marguerite.” Holding on to her riding boots, Giselle sighed in exasperation as her sister unbuttoned the dress and took it off the mannequin. “Sometimes you can be so obtuse. Papa is the one who warned me off Simon back in Paris. Monsieur Harrington is not one to get seriously involved with anyone, especially a little nobody stuck in the middle of nowhere, so can we just drop the subject?”

  Giggling, Marguerite shook out the dress and countered, “Oh, Giselle, you are so amusing. I do not see how you can call yourself a little nobody stuck out here when your name is spoken with awe on most of the young men’s tongues from here to Louisville and Lexington.” She moved to hang it in the armoire. “Non, I would venture to say there is more to this man than meets the eye. And I, for one, would love to meet him.”

  “I doubt that will ever happen.” Giselle silently watched Marguerite close the armoire doors, then added, “Simon Harrington is off chasing danger and excitement. I am sure I will never have to set eyes on the man again. Which is a good thing, because I know I should stay clear of him. He is not only dan
gerous, but good-looking and charming as well.”

  Wearing an insightful smile, Marguerite kept quiet while Giselle finished pulling on her riding boots. When the two were ready to go, the smile was still in place.

  Annoyed, Giselle pulled her sister along. “Wipe that knowing grin off your face. You think because you are so much older, you know everything. In this, you are way off.”

  “Whatever you say,” she said, laughing and allowing Giselle to lead her from the room.

  The two were still at it when they walked into their parent’s home some ten minutes later.

  “Marguerite? Is that you?” came a voice from the back of the large house.

  Sophie Franklin had started for the foyer and stopped suddenly, meeting her youngest daughter’s gaze.

  Giselle thought her mother was a striking woman. The fine lines around her eyes, the only clues to her real age, deepened along with her smile.

  With her outstretched arms she moved to gather Giselle to her ample breast in a fierce hug.

  “It has been too long, ma fille.” She let go and said in a louder voice, “Marcus! Come! Our baby is home!”

  Marcus Franklin, a tall, slender, handsome man in his midfifties, obviously still rugged and fit, came barreling down the stairs. Enthusiastically, he picked Giselle up and twirled her around as if she weighed no more than a feather, just as he always used to do when she was a girl. All too soon, he set her down and placed a big kiss on her forehead.

  Laughter caught in Giselle’s throat at his actions and was still present in her voice. “It is so good to see you both. I have missed you. Until this moment, I never realized how much.”

  “Come, Lizette has made fresh croissants and hot chocolate,” Sophie said, wrapping an arm around both daughters and squeezing. “She left it warming on the stove. Even though the weather is mild, there is still a chill in the air. I think we could all benefit from something warm.”

  “Oh, Mama.” Giselle blinked the moisture away from her eyes. “It is good to be home.”

  “And we are happy you are home, child.” Together, they all walked into the kitchen. “Tell us all about your life on the farm,” Sophie said.