“You have no need to make me any promises,” he said, standing against the door like a coward waiting for the right moment to escape. “What happened in the past isn’t important. What you are now isn’t a lie. You’re becoming who you were meant to be.”
Her fingers bit into her arms. “What are you saying, Cort?”
“Aria…”
“You wanted me to come here. I did as you asked. I’ve met the Reniers. But now…” She searched his face, and he saw her begin to understand. “Is it because you think I’m different, just because my father was a king? But I’m not different. Can’t you see?”
Cort’s heart clenched. He’d spoken to Yuri of a gilded cage when the Russian had mocked him for daring to believe he could make Aria happy. He’d been referring then to di Reinardus’s plans for Aria, but the men he’d overheard, the Carantians, had their plans, as well. Aria would be their “salvation.” They assumed she would be ready and willing to help them reclaim the throne.
A woman of Aria’s courage and spirit could do anything she chose to do. She would make her own decisions, but only if she fully understood what they would mean. Only if she were truly free to decide.
Cort couldn’t free her from Carantian ambitions. But he could make her choice just a little easier.
“I see someone who has surpassed all my expectations,” he said slowly. “I see a wise and gracious woman who will make choices based on facts and reason, not emotion. And reason suggests that you must think carefully about what you are about to do.”
“What I’m about to do?” She sucked in her breath, and Cort could see tears welling in her eyes. “I thought I was going to marry you.”
He looked away. “The Carantians are here, Aria,” he said. “The people your guardian wanted you to meet. Your people.”
“The Carantians? But I thought—”
“I don’t know why they weren’t in San Francisco to meet you, but they’re here now, in this house. You must speak with them. Hear what they have to say about your family and your country.”
Her chin jutted. “I don’t want to talk to them.” She took a step toward him, the first tear rolling down her cheek. “I want to leave. Let’s find Babette and go. Right now.”
He reached behind him for the support of the door. “You’ve come too far, Aria. You must finish what you’ve begun.”
“But you will stay with me.”
“I can’t, Aria. When I tell you what I’ve done, what I really am—”
But he had delayed too long. The door opened behind him, and he had only a second to move out of the way before Xavier pushed into the room, followed by Henri.
“You blackguard,” Xavier snarled. “How dare you defile the princess with your filthy presence?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
EVERY ONE OF CORT’S senses heightened to painful sharpness. He felt the wolf stirring, longing to shed the limitations of his other self. This time he wouldn’t be thrown into the dirt. The Reniers would never expect him to Change. No peasant would dare…
Aria moved to stand beside Cort, tears gone, face coldly regal. “What is this, gentleman?” she demanded. She looked at Xavier. “I presume you are the owner of this house.”
The patriarch bowed shortly. “Xavier Renier, at your service.”
“Why are you addressing my friend in such a manner, monsieur?”
“Your friend?” Xavier echoed, his lips curling as if he wanted to spit. “How much do you know of this man, Your Highness?”
“I know he has helped and protected me when no one else would,” she said.
“Protected you?” Xavier sneered at Cort. “But of course he must have deceived many with this pitiful masquerade. That is over.”
The wolf howled, clawing at the inside of Cort’s skin. Aria was too loyal to believe anything bad of him simply because the Reniers said it. She might even let her mask slip and defend him in a way no lady would, and he could not permit that.
No. It had to come from his own lips. Here and now.
“Messieurs,” he said, facing the Reniers. “If you wish to respect Her Highness, you will allow me to tell her what occurred here eight years ago.”
“Why should we give you the chance to lie to her further?” Xavier snapped. He bowed to Aria. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but you must hear an ugly truth. This…this man is—”
“I have been aware that there is no liking between you and Monsieur Renier,” Aria said. “And I am eager to hear the truth. But it will not be under these circumstances.” She looked steadily at Cort. “I understand that my countrymen are waiting to speak with me. I will meet with them first, and then we will continue this conversation.”
Xavier was clearly taken aback by her assumption of authority, accustomed as he was to giving the orders. But he respected strength, at least when it came with rank, and he inclined his head.
“As you wish,” he said. His eyes promised Cort that he would get no further time alone with the princess.
“I wish Madame Martin to join us,” Aria said.
“Your Highness…” Xavier began.
Without waiting to hear his protest, Aria swept out the door. Xavier and Henri stood back to let Cort precede them. No doubt they were not about to let him out of their sight.
Cort was too numb to care. As he walked out into the corridor, Aria emerged from the adjoining room with Babette, who cast him a desperate glance.
“Shall we go down, gentleman?” Aria said.
They descended the stairs, Aria and Babette in the lead, with Cort and Henri behind them and Xavier bringing up the rear. Cort heard voices beyond the door of the Rose Salon as they reached the foot of the stairs; the three Carantians were speaking with hushed urgency.
“The people will rally behind her when we reveal that a royal heir still lives,” the first elder was saying. “Once they are committed, it will surely not be long before the old laws are reinstated.”
“And my people,” the young human said, “will have full equality again.”
Aria stopped halfway across the hall, listening. Babette paused with her.
“All will have the freedom to live as they choose,” the young man continued. “No position or profession will be barred to humans if they show merit and ability.”
Henri hurried ahead of Aria and opened the door. Cort waited until she began to move again and followed her into the salon.
The Carantians were already on their feet, staring at Aria. She chose a chair near the foreigners and sat, indicating that Babette should take the seat beside her. She showed no more emotion than the Venus di Milo.
The eldest Carantian found his voice. “I…I beg your pardon,” he said, dropping his gaze.
Xavier watched Cort take a position at the side of the room and then went to stand with his son. “Gentlemen,” he said with great formality, “I am honored to present Her Royal Highness, Aria di Reinardus. Your Highness, Graf Leopold von Losontz, Freiherr Sigmund von Mir and Herr Josef Dreher.”
The three Carantians remained frozen. Aria smiled.
“Meine Herren,” she said. “It is an honor to meet you.”
The youngest Carantian, Josef Dreher, dropped to one knee. The elder loups-garous glanced at each other and bowed to Aria.
“Your Royal Highness,” von Losontz said, straightening. “We did not know. We were told that one of our king’s old retainers was coming to San Francisco with word of the resistance in Carantia, but he said nothing…” The old man cleared his throat. “There was never even the slightest rumor that a second heir existed. If we had been aware, we would never have returned to New Orleans on what we believed was urgent business with other supporters of the former king.”
Aria nodded graciously. “I myself was unaware until very recently, Count von Losontz. I am certain you have many questions. So do I.” She looked at Cort. “May I introduce the two people responsible for my safe arrival in New Orleans…Madame Babette Martin and Monsieur Cortland Renier.”
The
Carantians had obviously not been warned about Babette. They bowed to her with exquisite courtesy and then turned to Cort.
“We are grateful beyond words, madame, monsieur,” von Mir said, adjusting his spectacles. “There is no recompense we could possibly offer for such a service.”
Cort’s mouth was almost too dry for speech. “Her Highness does us too much honor,” he said hoarsely.
Aria was about to speak when a woman’s voice sounded from the doorway.
“I beg your pardon. Papa? Am I intruding?”
Everyone looked toward the newcomer. Madeleine had hardly changed. Her figure was perhaps a little fuller than it had been eight years ago, her skin less dewy, her eyes more weary. But she was still beautiful.
Almost as beautiful as Aria.
Her gaze went instinctively to her only rival in the room. Aria stared back at her.
“Bonjour, Madeleine,” Cort said.
Like her brothers, she didn’t know Cort at first. She smiled, responding to the challenge of a possible new male conquest.
But then, slowly, her expression changed. Her eyes widened, and her face froze in disbelief.
“Beau Renier!” she cried. “What are you doing here? How dare you come back?” She spun to face her father. “Papa! You know what he did to me! How can you let him into this house?”
A dreadful silence seemed to suck all the air from the room. Aria’s fingers clenched around the arms of her chair. The Carantians looked at each other in bewilderment.
“He presented himself to us as a gentleman named ‘Cortland,’” Henri said, spitting out the words as if he couldn’t bear the taste of them. “He has become quite the play-actor. If it were not for the princess—”
Madeleine turned toward Aria again. “The princess? Are you—”
Xavier introduced the women to each other, though he stared at Cort with undisguised hatred. Madeleine—Madame Madeleine Rivette, as she was now—pink with anger and confusion, curtsied to Aria.
“Please forgive me, Your Highness,” she said. “It is only that I…this man…”
“Messieurs and mesdames,” Aria said, “I had hoped to have a civilized conversation before dealing with this unexpected contretemps, but I see that will not be possible.” Her gaze swept about the room, stern and regal. “It appears that my friend and companion, Monsieur Cortland Renier, is not welcome in this house.” She turned to Madeleine. “Especially not by you, madame.”
“Oh!” Madeleine flushed a brighter red, her lip trembling with anger she dared not show. “Can it be…do you not know who this man is, Your Highness?”
Cort flinched in spite of himself. Not because of Madeleine, who was no more to him than a fly buzzing and blundering against a window, struggling to find a way out. But he couldn’t allow her to control what was about to happen.
He bowed to Aria. “Your Highness,” he said, “you have on occasion inquired as to my birth and relations. I have never answered you honestly. Now, however, I will speak only the truth.” He swallowed, forcing himself to face his own vulnerability. “It is the truth that my family and theirs have had no dealings with each other. Except once.” He nodded toward Madeleine. “Madame Rivette wonders why I am here because she is the woman who rejected my suit eight years ago.”
“Your suit?” Madeleine sputtered. “How dare you call it—”
Aria made a cutting motion with her hand, and Madeleine held her tongue. “Please go on, monsieur,” Aria said to Cort, her voice revealing nothing but calm interest.
Cort’s heart was a blackened husk in his chest. “My family,” he said, “are indeed Reniers. But they do not live in this city. I was born in a cabane on Bayou Gris, far from what these people call civilization. My father was illiterate, and my mother cooked over a woodstove brought to the bayou fifty years ago. We had nothing…no fine houses, no education, no impeccable reputation, no money. We were not permitted to walk the same ground as the New Orleans Reniers, let alone court their women.”
“Animals,” Madeleine hissed. “Tell her what you tried to do to me, all because you wanted my fortune. You and your kind, worthless beasts wallowing in the mud, imagining yourself good enough—”
“You thought I was good enough for a few months’ diversion,” Cort said. “Until your father discovered your low tastes. That was when you chose to lie about me to save your own reputation.”
Henri lunged toward Cort, hand raised, but he came to a quivering stop as Aria rose from her chair.
“Arrête!” she cried. “Stay where you are, monsieur!”
“Your highness,” Henri said in a low voice, “I cannot permit this chien to insult my sister.”
Aria ignored him. “How did she lie?” she asked Cort.
“She said he abused her,” Babette said, speaking for the first time. “Forced her to lie with him.”
Henri groaned. Xavier shook like a man struck with palsy. Aria simply looked at Cort.
“You didn’t do it, did you?” she asked.
“No,” Cort said. “I proposed to Mademoiselle Madeleine. I believed she loved me.”
“Loved you?” Madeleine shrieked. “You thought you could make yourself into a gentleman, but you can never remove the stink of the swamp. Never!”
“Monsieur Renier has always been a gentleman,” Aria said coldly. “I believe you are the one who is lying, madame.”
“Not entirely, Your Highness,” Cort said. “I did believe I loved her and that she returned my affection, but I also wanted the privilege and wealth marriage to her would bring me. After the Reniers made it clear I wasn’t welcome, I worked to become as you see me now.” He smiled as if it were all a great joke. “Madeleine is right. The mud has never washed away.”
“And you saw another opportunity to have your way when you met the princess,” Henri said. “If you ever dared to—”
“I did dare,” Cort said, before Aria could defend him again. “I intended to return to this house and have my revenge against all of you. Through her.”
Aria sank back into her chair. “Cort?”
Meeting her gaze, Cort braced himself to tell the ugly mingling of truth and falsehood their audience made necessary.
“You must understand, Your Highness,” he said. “I barely escaped this house with my life. I would have done anything to make the Reniers suffer for what they had done to me. When I met you, even before I knew your true name, I recognized at once how much you resembled Lucienne Renier. And when I learned who you were and realized how important you would be to the Reniers, I was eager to assist you and make myself invaluable to you. I didn’t help you out of the goodness of my heart or from some noble sense of chivalry. I saw a perfect chance to take my vengeance.”
Aria’s skin went from white to red. “I don’t believe you.”
“Once you had bestowed your affection and trust upon me, I intended to ruin you so that these aristocrats would always have to live with the fact that I had taken something they valued even more than they did Madeleine.”
“That isn’t true!” Babette said, rising. “Aria, don’t listen to him!”
Cort ignored her. “I courted you,” he said. “I tried to seduce you. I even asked you to marry me, all with the purpose of causing the Reniers as much suffering as possible once we arrived in New Orleans.” He laughed harshly. “A peasant, married to a princess. They could not endure it.”
Aria stared at him, unspeaking. Babette trembled with horror. As if from a great distance, Cort heard the Reniers’ angry protests and shocked exclamations. He shook them off.
“It was fortunate for you that the marriage never took place, Your Highness,” he said. “But that did not stop me from planning to—”
“Why would he risk his life for you and come here only to be humiliated?” Babette said, cutting across his words. “Why should he confess such ugly intentions in front of those he hates?” She pressed Aria’s arm. “He says these things because he loves you!”
“I love no one,” Cort said
. “I despise all men or women who think themselves better than—”
A hard fist smashed into Cort’s jaw, knocking the words out of his mouth. He staggered. A growl rumbled in his ear. Another blow split his lip. A clear, ringing voice burst through the senseless noise.
“Enough!”
The grasping, striking hands withdrew. Cort straightened, shaking his head. The pain of the blow was already fading. His nose told him who had struck him: Benoit Renier, who had apparently slipped into the room when he wasn’t looking. The Carantians were on their feet. Babette was speaking in low tones to Aria, who seemed in a daze, and Madeleine was leaning heavily on Henri’s arm, trembling and pale.
“Get out,” Xavier shouted, pointing at Cort. “You foul the very air we breathe!” He advanced, death in his eyes. “This time you will not crawl away.”
The three male Reniers were in perfect accord. Cort had done what he planned to do, and there was no reason to remain. He tore at his clothing, the fine gentlemanly garments he had purchased in Sacramento, scattering buttons and studs and shredded fabric at his feet.
The last thing he saw as he Changed were Aria’s eyes, damning wells of misery and pain. He spun on his hind legs and raced into the hall and out the door, barely avoiding a servant sweeping the marble floor.
There were no limits on him now, no bonds to hold him. All the distaste he had felt for the wolf in himself was gone, cast aside along with his failed ambitions.
But he was only an empty sack of bones and fur. There was nothing to replace the man he had created out of foiled ambition and the hatred that had been his lifeblood for so long. Nothing to fill the vast, gaping hole where Aria had been.
You did what was right for her. She would be happy again. And he…
He had to return to the one place he had thought never to see again, to the people he had rejected. They couldn’t offer him absolution. No one could. But at least he would face what he had done. Even if they turned their backs on him and cursed the ground he walked upon.
South and west he ran, leaving the civilized world behind. He plunged into the wilderness of the bayous, tortuous waterways choked with matted vegetation, swarming with mosquitoes, and thick with fish, birds and alligators. A few rickety shacks clung to the dryer ground, and intrepid fishermen plied expertly carved pirogues in search of their daily bread. Only the cleverest humans could find their way through the maze of forest and swamp; only the most experienced penetrated so far into the realm of gator, fox and ibis.
Luck of the Wolf Page 28
