Her manipulating and calculating personality served her well. The brilliant idea of inviting the entire family to Paris on the next phase of her journey nearly caused him to choke on his food. Jolene’s ingenious scheme, however, still left him in the dark as to what diabolical plan that pretty head of hers had conjured up. He would have to spirit her aside before the evening ended to find out.
The footmen cleared the dirty dishes and then placed crystal decanters of port and brandy on the table. Lord Chambers had his butler fetch his box of imported Cuban cigars. The four males looked forward to a moment alone without the women.
The door closed, the menfolk lit their cigars, and the footman filled the glasses. Everyone leaned back comfortably and puffed upon a rolled stick of tobacco, filling the dining room with swirls of smoke rising to the ceiling.
“I say,” his uncle began. “The komtesse must be fairly well off. She did not inquire about the potential cost of renting a townhome in Paris.” He flicked the end of his cigar leaving the ash residue in a tray on the table.
Robert glanced at Geoffrey, who in response tapped his index finger on the tabletop. No doubt, his cousin calculated the crowns in her bank account. After he had tallied the total, he responded.
“She’s probably rich as hell,” he said, taking a drag on his cigar. He blew the smoke above his head in a circle. “The gossip from the Whitefields is that she inherited everything from the count—his money, large estate, and property interests. She resides in an enormous mansion in Vienna all by herself.”
“No other relatives?” His father shifted his attention toward Geoffrey.
Robert leaned back in his chair studying his father’s reaction. His face held the familiar look of fatherly concern.
“She has an elderly step aunt in Berlin, I believe.” Geoffrey answered smugly as if he knew every intimate detail about her life in Vienna.
A hushed atmosphere circled the table. Everyone puffed on their cigars and pondered the financially advantageous position of his half sister.
“It’s a bloody mess, I tell you.” Edmund irritably flicked the excess ash from his cigar in the tray. “Our manor homes and townhouses are far too expensive to maintain, our fortunes are dwindling, and aristocrats by the droves in England are going bankrupt.” After gaining everyone’s attention, his uncle pointed his glass of port toward his son. “By God, if I were a greedy man, I would encourage Geoffrey over there to romance the komtesse and bring new money into the family.”
The statement proved far too amusing to keep Robert quiet any longer. He snickered. There had to be no way in hell his uncle had not already encouraged his cousin’s behavior in the matter.
“Well, my cousin did steal a kiss from the lady, but she hasn’t reciprocated since. Frankly, I think he is losing his touch.” Robert pulled a smug grin to one side of his face and glanced at Geoffrey. Exactly as he expected, he met his cousin’s angry glare in return.
“If you would stop protecting her like a brother, perhaps I could get somewhere.”
This is bloody hilarious, he thought as he held his tongue. He felt as if his lungs would explode keeping in what he knew.
“I cannot believe you’re selling the plantation,” his father said. He appeared agitated as he shifted in his seat. “Marguerite mentioned nothing of your financial situation to me.”
“Well, I wasn’t about to tell her about it either,” Edmund replied. He sucked in his cheeks and raised his voice. “Good lord, Robert, you of all people know how high strung she is. The woman would have driven me crazy with worry and questions.”
His father held no argument there when it came to his sister’s personality. “True,” he replied. “I see your point, but I am sorry to hear of it.”
Another few moments of silence, drinking, and cigar puffing ensued as the minds of the men wandered to their various private thoughts. The alcohol and fine tobacco had a way of soothing the unspoken emotions they each pondered at the table.
His uncle raised his eyes and glanced over at Geoffrey with a devilish grin. “When you get to Paris, enjoy yourself, son. I will increase your allowance a bit more so that you can have a Parisian night out on the town.”
The comment captured Geoffrey’s attention immediately. His blasé attitude of giving his father little attention about any matter quickly changed. Surely, the comment about a night out had awakened his cousin’s sexual appetite. Robert scoffed at him.
“There’s a fine brothel by the name Rue des Moulins,” his uncle began. “They will treat you damn well.” He lowered his voice a bit, placed his elbows on the table, and leaned forward. “They have some bold beauties that can do things to you with their lips you have only fantasized about.”
Geoffrey salivated over the thought. His eyes grew dark, and his finger once again tapped on the tabletop but with more fervency. Obviously, he seriously considered his father’s suggestion.
He calls me a bastard and look at him, Robert grumbled. If he fucks a whore, I will tell Jolene for damn sure.
He glanced at his father. To his astonishment, he hung his head and slumped in his chair. He gazed blankly at the linen tablecloth. Clearly, the conversation made him uncomfortable. Perhaps the fact that Edmund had suggested his son find a whore shocked him too.
“Robert, you should try one of the beauties too,” his uncle interjected.
Robert spun his head toward his uncle. His mouth gaped open. The devilish expression in his eyes made him squirm. He appeared serious that he should enjoy a night out with Geoffrey.
“Perhaps your old man will give you a few pounds while you are there. It was his favorite pastime during his youthful years of rebellion, much to his own father’s chagrin.” Edmund expelled a hearty laugh and downed the remaining brandy in his glass.
His father sat straight up in the chair and glared at Edmund. “You never learn do you? It’s not as if you haven’t fucked your own mistresses for the past twenty years.” His skin turned red under his collar.
Robert’s jaw dropped to his chest. Geoffrey choked on his port, and they exchanged glances. He appeared just as stunned. Robert knew for years that there had never been any respect between brothers-in-law. Perhaps he should not be so surprised that his uncle had dropped such a rotten egg on the dining room table to stir up things. The disgust his father felt toward Edmund frankly equaled in the lack of respect that Robert held for his half cousin.
His father’s comment hit its own nerve with his uncle. His nostrils flared, and his knuckles turned white. For a moment, he thought Edmund would rise to his feet and punch his father in the face. Time to intervene, Robert swiftly decided.
“Let’s not spill our brandy over this,” Robert announced lightheartedly. “Leave your youthful exploits unspoken in front of your sons, or we’ll get ideas.”
His father’s morality had not shocked him before. After all, his mother had been his mistress for years. However, the little tidbit about visiting brothels had been an entirely new revelation. It instantly shed a new light on his father’s character that he was not sure he liked.
Geoffrey suddenly slapped the palm of his hand on the table. “I expected as much from my father, but not you dear Uncle,” he roared.
His father remained silent, scrunching his lips together.
Edmund continued to gloat. “I’m a man, what else can I say. I like the smell of a perfumed bed and a skinny, young ass once in a while.” Geoffrey flashed his father an approving look as if he totally understood his father’s logic. He could not believe they spoke with such disrespect for Marguerite. A poor excuse of a man, thought Robert.
His father remained silent and deep in thought. There had been no doubt in Robert’s mind that he had remained faithful to his mother throughout the years. He hoped his assumption to be true. Their happiness had been quite evident, irrespective of society shunning their union.
Finally, his father moved by tapping his finger on the rim of this glass. The footman jumped into action and refilled it hal
fway. He tapped it once more, indicating that he was not satisfied with the portion. In response, the servant added more. Afterward, his father gulped a large swig down his gullet. Whenever he drank, Robert knew his tongue would loosen.
Robert leaned in toward his father to attract his attention. “Are you looking forward to Paris, Father?”
After another quick sip and subsequent puff on his cigar, he finally answered. “Not necessarily,” he sighed. “Each time we go, I feel like I’m looking down the barrel of a gun.”
“Damn, you were bloody fortunate he did not blow your head off,” Edmund jabbed. “You stole the man’s wife. Frankly, I would have shot you too.”
His father sneered at Edmund. Robert felt bad for his father. He seemed unable to leave the past behind when it came to his mother. From passing innuendos his father made throughout the years, he hinted at his regret for Philippe’s downfall. As he sat there studying his father, he saw the opportunity to move in that direction.
“Do you ever hear from Philippe?” Robert had not considered the effect such a question would have upon his father until after the words flew out of his mouth. Truthfully, he had been curious throughout the years. He simply asked because he promised Jolene that he would see what he could discover about his whereabouts.
His father’s head turned in his direction. The look in his eyes spoke of his displeasure over the inquiry. “Philippe?” he grumbled loudly. “Why in the hell do you want to know if I have ever heard from Philippe?”
You’ve bloody well done it now, Robert scolded himself. To lessen the impact, he put the thought back in his father’s lap where it originated.
“You said Paris makes you think of the barrel of a gun. Since it is his barrel, naturally I wondered if you ever hear from him.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, he continued. “It is, after all, a perfectly rational question.”
His father shrugged his shoulders and remained silent. The evasiveness of his gaze and demeanor tempted Robert to ask another. “Is Philippe still looking for Angelique?”
“Damn if I know,” he answered, slightly slurring his words. “We quit looking years ago.”
The glass of brandy came to his father’s lips, and his mouth allowed the remainder of its contents to course down to his stomach deadening the guilt.
“I probably spent half of my fortune over the affair. I lost every bloody pound I invested into his business years ago. He ran it into the ground to ruin me, no doubt, as payment for my sins.” The duke’s head wobbled slightly from the alcohol. “The remainder went to private investigators in our futile attempt to find Angelique.”
“Did you finally put your foot down and tell Suzette you would spend no more on the useless search?” Edmund asked in a more amiable tone than his last question.
“She finally came to terms with it five years ago. It has been hard. She carries a lot of guilt.”
Still ignoring his earlier question, Robert pressed again. “So I assume you have not heard from Philippe. I would have thought had he found her that he would have had the decency to tell mother.”
Once again, his father’s slumped shoulders rose. He scowled at him with glassy eyes. “I don’t understand, Robert, why the hell you have this sudden melancholic interest in your former stepfather?”
“Here, here,” Geoffrey interjected with a grin. “Tell us why, Robert. Frankly, I would like to know as well.”
Oh, shit, Robert thought to himself. His prying had succeeded in putting him on the spot in front of everyone. He was not sure how he was going to cover his sudden curiosity without raising suspicion. Geoffrey and his uncle gawked in pleasure as they waited for his answer. Make light of it, he told himself.
“Oh, no particular interest,” he replied nonchalantly, as if it honestly did not matter one way or the other. “I just wondered since we are headed to Paris.”
His father raked his hand through his hair. He avoided everyone’s eyes and kept focused on the decanter in front of him pondering another drink. Robert shook his head slightly knowing that he would end up on the table passed out if he didn’t intervene.
Surprisingly, his uncle leaned forward and jabbed the next question at his father to get a reaction. “You know, don’t you? You sly dog.”
For a moment, his father ignored the query. Then as if he were in a confessional with a priest, his tongue loosened. “Yes, I know,” he said.
Robert’s mouth dropped open. His uncle brought his hands together in a clap and bellowed from his lungs. “I knew it!”
Geoffrey slapped the tabletop. “Shit, my uncle the duke has a deceitful side about him. Who would have thought?”
Edmund bellowed a hearty laugh. “Damn right,” he said. “I knew that when your uncle asked me to send Philippe away to my plantation. He plotted to remove him from France for a few months while he pursued his wife behind his back.”
Robert felt as if his heart stopped beating. The revelation rendered him speechless. He brought his glass to his mouth and downed the rest of his brandy. His father quickly defended himself, snubbing out the smoked cigar in the tray in front of him.
“I’ll admit I had my reasons, but it also included the opportunity to see my son. The bastard knew all along he was mine and didn’t even tell me.”
Robert could not believe what he heard. There were things about his parents he never knew. At a young age, they had carefully chosen to tell him only what they wanted to reveal. Like any other child who trusted implicitly, he accepted it as truth.
Through the years, society had branded him a bastard of the duke. It had been hard to swallow, even though his father had acknowledged him as his rightful heir. People in society who had remembered and adored Jacquelyn taunted him about his mother being the duke’s mistress. She had usurped Jacquelyn’s rightful place as duchess, which of course she paid for dearly. At that moment, he began to wonder what else he didn’t know or what secrets Jolene might unearth.
His father hung his head and then slowly lifted his eyes toward Robert. “If you want to see him, I know where you can find him. I suppose you have every right, since he brought you up for the first five years of your life.”
The duke’s dejected countenance grieved Robert. “Father, it’s not—”
“I do not care if you do,” he briskly cut him off. “He once loved you as a son. Who knows, he might enjoy seeing you as a grown man.” The duke shook his head. “I never could bring back his daughter, that’s for damn sure.”
Robert found it difficult watching his inebriated father display his remorse. The man had been such a staunch nobleman lecturing him about his life and behavior that it surprised the hell out of him to witness his weakness displayed in front of family.
Then to his utter surprise, his father balled his fist and banged the dining table with a thud, shaking everything in its wake. Everyone glared at his out-of-character behavior.
“Bloody Jacquelyn! She only did it to destroy Suzette. The woman was a crazy bitch.”
“Crazy bitch or not,” Robert said, “You’ve had enough to drink.” He reached over and put his arm around his father’s shoulders. “Mother will lecture you the rest of the night if you don’t give up the alcohol and go to bed.”
He pondered the empty glass before him. “You’re right,” he said, rising to his feet with a slight sway. “Well then,” he announced, “I shall retire before she discovers her husband in this rather uncouth state of mind.”
“Give my apologies to Lady von Lamberg, will you son?” he asked Robert sadly. “Tell her that your father retired early because he did not feel well.”
With a slight stagger, the duke exited the dining room and closed the door behind him. It had been some time since he had witnessed his father under the influence to such an extent. Since it happened so quickly, he pondered how many drinks he might have had before dinner.
“Hmm,” his uncle moaned, downing the remainder of his drink and snuffing out the end of his cigar. “I think the trip to Paris has resurrec
ted some irritants beneath the surface.”
Flabbergasted, Geoffrey replied. “That is the first time I have witnessed his stiff upper lip quiver.” In a voice that mirrored concern, he looked questioningly at this father. “What the hell was that all about?”
Lord Chambers shook his head. “Take it from me, boys, the decisions you make as youths will follow you the rest of your life. His Grace is a prime example.” He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “I’ll leave you two lads to escort the komtesse back to the Whitefields. Just don’t duel over the matter,” he said with a smirk as the left the room.
Geoffrey and Robert glanced at each other as if they pondered the possibility.
“You want to flip a coin?” Robert jested.
“Let me take her home,” Geoffrey pressed. “I never get a moment with the woman.”
“Maybe the woman doesn’t want a moment alone with you,” he retorted.
Geoffrey swiftly pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. “We’ll flip a coin,” he announced in arrogance. “You always lose when gambling with money.”
Robert knew in his gut tonight he would win. “Fine with me,” he announced, rising to his feet. “But I want a third party to flip it.”
Geoffrey shoved his hand into his pocket and drew out a gold sovereign. “You there,” he bellowed at the footman standing straight-faced by the wall at attention. “Come here.”
Like a soldier called to duty, the footman came and stood in front of Geoffrey. “Hold out your hand, man,” he said. He slapped the coin in the palm of his white glove. “Toss the coin at my command.”
Geoffrey looked at his cousin with a narrowed gaze. “Your call,” he offered. “Shall it be Edward VII or Saint George slaying the dragon? Frankly, it doesn’t matter,” he arrogantly added. “Because you are about to lose the bet.”
Robert had a hell of a lot of dragons to slay. It was an easy call. “Saint George.”
“Then it’s the king for me,” Geoffrey claimed. “Flip the damn coin, and you better give me the win.”
As if the footman had been an expert in the art of coin flipping, he threw it up in the air. All three watched it fly above their heads twirling the sovereign in every direction. When gravity begun its pull, the coin descended, the footman grabbed it and slapped it upon the back of his left hand. He reached out to the two who stood there waiting for the outcome and privilege to spend time with the komtesse. Slowly, as if teasing the two of them, he raised his hand and revealed Saint George wielding his sword.
The Price of Love Page 16
