The Secret of Love (Rakes & Rebels: The Raveneau Family Book 3)

by Cynthia Wright

  “I don’t think I can eat,” she declared, just as her stomach rumbled loudly enough for all of them to hear.

  “You will need food for the journey ahead,” Gabriel replied, picking up his own fork.

  “A journey without you.”

  “Mon Dieu, Isabella. Why can you not yield to my wishes?”

  “Because I have a mind of my own and my views deserve your respect.” Across the table, she noticed Eustache watching them as he devoured his own galette. “I might add that I am not the only one who thinks that you should pursue another course of action.”

  Gabriel stopped chewing. “Are you are referring to a certain meddling windbag?” He jabbed the air with his pewter fork in Eustache’s direction. “Perhaps you have both forgotten that he was hired as a servant, not an advisor!”

  “Is that a reason to discount his opinion? How hard you are, m’sieur.” She lifted her chin and dared to add, “I suppose that you do not wish to consider my wishes because I am a female!”

  As a range of emotions played over his handsome face, he remained silent for a full minute. She could see him struggling with her accusation, perhaps even realizing that there was truth in it.

  “Eh bien,” Gabriel said at length. “Perhaps I have been unfair. I am not used to having to answer to anyone about the decisions I make.”

  Izzie had begun to eat her own savory galette. “And now?”

  “I will listen.”

  She saw vulnerability in his eyes before he glanced away, so she put her small hand on his forearm. Through the layers of his coat and shirt, Izzie could feel the hard warmth of him.

  “My request is that you take your mother’s advice and go to Château du Soleil,” she said quietly. “What if she is right, and you discover something important there?”

  “Oui! Exactly as I have said!” Eustache blurted out before Izzie could give him a quelling look.

  “I would also request that we all travel there together. Your loyal manservant has heard of Château de Soleil all his life and he will be bereft if he misses this opportunity to see it for himself.” She longed to move her hand to his rough cheek, but restrained herself. “I think that you may already know the reason I wish to travel on with you, m’sieur.”

  “I will lose a full day if we go there.” A furrow appeared in St. Briac’s brow. “Life was so much simpler when I was—”

  “Yes?” Izzie knew very well that he had started to say something like ‘unencumbered.’

  “Alone.” He looked directly into her eyes, his gaze so compelling it made her feel dizzy. “Life was simpler, but I would not go back.” Leaning forward, he murmured softly into her ear, “I don’t want to be alone any longer.”

  A smile spread over her face as she looked across the table at Eustache. “It’s decided then. We will all travel to Château du Soleil!”

  “But not to Paris,” St. Briac amended. “I refuse to take you to Paris!

  Chapter 24

  Three days later, the small band of travelers arrived in the pastoral village of St. Briac-sur-Loire. It was mid-afternoon, so Gabriel decided that they would pause at an agreeable-looking inn for refreshment. He needed time to ponder his next course of action.

  Swinging down from Victor’s back, he gazed up at the graceful white-spired château that perched above the village on a hillside surrounded by vineyards. It was like a painting from a storybook. No wonder our father was too intimidated to go any closer, Gabriel thought with a wry smile.

  He turned to find Eustache setting down the step to the landau while Isabella looked out expectantly. How charming she looked with her delicate spectacles and chip-straw bonnet. Before Gabriel could help her out, a stranger rode up next to them.

  “Bonjour!” he said in a friendly voice. His accent sounded American to Gabriel. “Have you just arrived in our village? Can I assist you in any way?

  The man dismounted from his splendid Adalusian stallion and walked toward Gabriel, his right hand outstretched. He was, perhaps, in his early forties, with green eyes and chestnut hair cropped into an unruly style similar to Gabriel’s own.

  “Bonjour,” St. Briac replied as they shook hands. “You are very kind to welcome us.” Could this be the mayor of the village? His steed and fine riding attire seemed to suggest that he was of an even higher rank.

  “Not at all.” He was smiling. “My name is Nicholai Beauvisage.”

  Mon Dieu! It was the man he had heard about for years, the son of the last Marquis de St. Briac, and he lived with his family in the magical château on the hill.

  Gabriel was momentarily speechless, but then he felt Isabella behind him, her hand on his back.

  “How delightful to meet you, M’sieur Beauvisage,” she said warmly. “I am Lady Isabella Trevarre. I have heard many fine reports about you and your family from my friends, the Raveneaus.”

  “André and Devon Raveneau?” he exclaimed. “Yes, our friendship goes back many years. It’s a great pleasure to know you, Lady Isabella.”

  As they spoke, Gabriel realized that this moment had to come if he were indeed going to enter the château. He found his voice, continuing to clasp Beauvisage’s hand. “My name is Gabriel St. Briac, m’sieur.”

  Gabriel’s branch of the family had only been given the St. Briac name as a gesture of kindness—or pity—toward Philippe, the bastard child, when he set off into the world. How would Nicholai react when he heard it? Would he think Gabriel presumptuous?

  “M’sieur!” exclaimed Beauvisage. He was gazing at Gabriel in amazement. “We meet at last. I have heard for years of you and your brother and have hoped that this day would come. We are cousins, are we not?”

  “Oh, no, not really.” Gabriel shook his head modestly. “Your ancestor, Marie Mardouet Beauvisage, was generous enough to bestow the St. Briac name on my misbegotten great-grandfather, but of course…” He trailed off, not certain what to say next. He wasn’t going to tell Beauvisage that he wasn’t fit to polish his boots, but of course he had been told a version of that his whole life.

  Nicholai Beauvisage clapped an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders as if they were long lost brothers. “Even if I believed any of that nonsense about legitimacy, I would have to put it aside upon seeing you. Come home with me, all of you, so that I can show you what I mean.”

  Glancing up at the enchanted castle on the hill, Gabriel knew a wave of uncertainty. “You are too kind.”

  “Not a bit!” Nicholai stopped, one arm still wrapped around the younger man’s broad shoulders. “Come and see for yourself. You and your companions will be honored guests at your own ancestral château.”

  Off to one side, Gabriel saw Eustache nodding with satisfaction, as if he had arranged the entire scenario.

  * * *

  Izzie couldn’t have been more delighted with the turn of events. As they arrived at Château du Soleil, which was the embodiment of a fairy tale castle, she watched the expression on Gabriel’s face.

  They traveled up the long drive, past the gatehouse, and servants came out to assist them. As the carriage and horses were removed to the stable, and Eustache and Lowenna were shown to the servants’ quarters, Gabriel stood awestruck, admiring the view. Nicholai explained that the château had originally been fortified. During the Renaissance, one side was razed by Thomas Mardouet, seigneur de St. Briac. Sunlight now streamed into the central courtyard, which overlooked a series of formal, terraced gardens. In the distance, the River Loire wound lazily through the valley.

  “The gardens are a work of art,” said Gabriel. “I imagine there must be a magnificent kitchen garden on the other side of the château?”

  “Yes, they are not only lovely to look at, but the fresh vegetables and fruit are the best I’ve ever tasted,” said Nicholai. “The original plans for the gardens, drawn up for our ancestor Thomas, are still here. May I show them to you later?”

  “I would be grateful to see them, m’sieur!” Gabriel replied, his eyes alight with enthusiasm.

 
Turning to Nicholai, Izzie asked, “Your ancestor was the friend of King François, was he not?”

  “Indeed. Thomas was the king’s companion as they were growing up and the two men remained close friends all their lives.” Nicholai seemed to be especially pleased by this as his gaze again touched Gabriel. “Ah, here is my family. Allow me to present them to you.”

  Izzie watched the approach of a lovely, fair-haired woman wearing a charming green-and-ivory checked round gown. She was accompanied by an adolescent girl and a boy of about ten.

  As introductions were made, Lisette Hahn Beauvisage gracefully extended her hand to them. Izzie was instinctively awed by the older woman’s beauty, yet she was soon captivated by her charm.

  “How good it is to have you with us,” Lisette said warmly. She leaned against Nicholai’s shoulder as she spoke and his hand settled intimately at the small of her back. “M’sieur St. Briac, I know that this is a special pleasure for my husband. He has confided a long-standing wish to know your branch of the family.”

  Gabriel arched a dubious brow. “You are very kind.”

  The Beauvisage children were then presented to them. Adrienne would be a beauty, Izzie decided. She had striking green eyes and rich auburn hair, styled in fashionable curls that framed her face. A few freckles still dusted her cheeks, and there was even a pink blemish on her chin, in keeping with a girl who was metamorphosing into womanhood.

  “Do you come from London?” Adrienne asked Izzie.

  “I do, though I confess that in recent years I’ve preferred a quieter life in Cornwall.”

  “Oh, I should adore London!” cried Adrienne. “It’s so very dull here.”

  “Well, your English is perfect,” remarked Gabriel with a laugh.

  “Since my parents are American, I suppose that’s to be expected. Maman and Papa are thinking of sending me to England to school, until the war ends here in France.”

  “Not until you are older,” said Nicholai firmly. “Much older.”

  As the girl wailed, “Papa!” Izzie suspected that one day father and daughter would be at odds, for Adrienne Beauvisage had all the signs of a rebel in the making.

  James Beauvisage, on the other hand, was a more serious child. After shyly greeting the guests, he watched everyone with alert gray-blue eyes, his short brown curls shining in the sunlight. Izzie thought how fortunate these two children were to live in an enchanted castle with two parents who clearly loved each other.

  Soon, Lisette was leading the way across the open courtyard and into the arched doorway of the château’s east wing. They came into a magnificent gallery tiled with large black and white squares of marble. One side of the long room opened onto the courtyard, while the opposite wall was lined with Renaissance tapestries depicting hunting scenes and tableaux from the royal court of François I. The aura of history took Izzie’s breath away. When she looked up at Gabriel, she sensed his emotions as he took in the surroundings that were part of his heritage.

  Lisette was saying, “I will show Lady Isabella to her chamber and perhaps Nicholai can do the same for M’sieur St. Briac.”

  “You must call me Gabriel,” he insisted.

  “With pleasure,” Lisette replied as her husband led him away. “We are family, are we not?”

  As if in a dream, Izzie viewed her exquisite ground-floor bedchamber that opened out, through glass French doors, onto kitchen gardens behind the château. Beyond an orangerie stood a small Renaissance chapel, and farther in the distance were the flourishing vineyards.

  “I suppose that generations of St. Briac lords and ladies are resting in your chapel’s burial ground,” Izzie mused, gazing out the tall window. Perhaps Gabriel’s own ancestor, killed before he could marry his unborn child’s mother, was interred here?

  “Indeed they are. And most of the family’s servants are buried there as well,” Lisette told her. “Now, how can we make you comfortable? Would you like Marie-Helene to draw you a bath? Tonight we shall all enjoy a meal together and discover just what inspired Gabriel to visit us.”

  The young dark-haired serving maid approached Izzie. “I am here to serve you, my lady.”

  “That would be lovely…what a gracious hostess you are, Madame Beauvisage.”

  The older woman smiled. “You must call me Lisette. And I thank you for those kind words, but I enjoy having guests. In Philadelphia, I was the proprietress of a busy CoffeeHouse, frequented by many prominent figures in the government of our new country.”

  Izzie blinked. “How far you have come from the life of an independent woman in Philadelphia!”

  “This was never part of my plan, but fate—and love—had other ideas,” she replied warmly. “Now then, let’s get you that bath so you can relax.”

  “Would you mind if I ask to see your chapel first? If you will show it to me, I would like to ask that Gabriel accompany us.”

  Lisette was clearly surprised, but she concealed it well. “Yes, of course! Marie-Helene, could you please ask M’sieur St. Briac if he would care to stroll around the chapel with us?”

  The girl had bobbed a curtsy and started toward the door when Izzie spoke again. “Marie-Helene, do you know where M’sieur’s manservant, Eustache, can be found? I think that he would like to see the chapel as well.”

  “I believe that he and your maid have gone together to the salle de commun. It is where our servants take their meals. I can go there to fetch him for you.”

  As Marie-Helene hurried off on her errand, Lisette thoughtfully tapped a slender finger to her cheek. “How very interesting this visit is becoming!”

  * * *

  As he walked beside Isabella toward the château’s private chapel, Gabriel felt as if he was being carried along on a precarious wave of change, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the process.

  “What inspired you to invite Eustache to join us on this odd little outing?” he asked softly, aware of the faintly accusing note in his own voice.

  Isabella glanced toward the pudgy manservant, who trudged along behind them through the manicured kitchen gardens. He appeared to be lost in thought, his head bent, sparse black locks combed forward.

  “I don’t have a clear answer,” she replied. “I just had…a feeling.”

  He glanced heavenward. “It seems that everyone in my life now operates on these mysterious feelings.”

  “Yet aren’t you glad that we listened to your mother and came to Château du Soleil?” Isabella pressed.

  “I would hardly agree that I came because of my vexing mother. As for the rest—I will wait and see. Ask me tomorrow.” Softening, he reached out to clasp her bare arm as they walked. “Or later tonight…”

  “You are a rogue!”

  “You mean that as a compliment, don’t you?” he teased. And the sight of her eyes, sparkling with fond amusement, made his heart swell.

  “Here we are,” Nicholai was saying as they drew near the small, jewel-like chapel with its serrated spires. Carved above the arched doorway was the salamander emblem of King François. “Lisette thought that you might like to see the graves of our common ancestors.”

  The white stone interior of the chapel was elegant yet simple, with tall windows of stained glass and graceful wooden benches along the walls. The raised altar featured a charming arrangement of flowers.

  Gabriel noticed the brass plaques in the stone floor, marking the crypt of Thomas and Aimée de St. Briac as well as other nobles who had followed them. Even Gabriel’s great-great-grandfather, Philippe was interred there.

  It was moving to see the resting places of these people he had heard about, in almost mythical terms, his entire life, and yet Gabriel sensed that Isabella had something else on her mind.

  “And where are the graves of the servants?” she asked.

  Both Lisette and Nicholai blinked in surprise, but Gabriel saw Eustache’s face brighten.

  “Why, they are right out here,” Nicholai said.

  They followed him outside into the pretty
churchyard, where pink and cream roses climbed over the headstones. There were more family graves there, and Nicholai pointed out the monument for his own grandfather, Étienne Beauvisage, who had been the last Marquis de St. Briac before the Revolution had done away with the aristocracy.

  “Here are the servants’ graves,” he told them at last, as they reached a neatly-tended section of the cemetery. “I’m afraid not all the graves are marked. Was there someone particular you were looking for?”

  Isabella drew Eustache forward. “Our friend had ancestors who were servants here at Château du Soleil.”

  Seeing tears well in his manservant’s eyes, Gabriel put an arm around him. “In fact, Eustache helped to convince me to come here. He heard tales of this château as a child.”

  “How did you come into M’sieur St. Briac’s employ, Eustache?” Lisette asked.

  “I felt, the moment I first saw monseigneur on the ramparts of Saint-Malo, that we were meant to be together, even though I didn’t yet know his name,” the manservant replied, his voice breaking. “I have always known that my master is as noble as any seigneur de St. Briac who ever lived!”

  “Indeed,” Gabriel added in fondly mocking tones, “he has spent years trying to elevate me to titled status through the sheer force of his own will.”

  “I suspect Eustache deserves more credit than you, in your modesty, have given him,” Nicholai said wryly. Stepping forward, he touched the manservant’s arm with one hand and Gabriel’s with his other, so that he was almost embracing them both at once. “What was your surname, Eustache? We will search these headstones to find your ancestors.”

  “LeFait,” Eustache said proudly. “L-E-F-A-I-T.”

  Nicholai and Lisette turned to stare at each other.

  “Could it be?” she whispered, watching her husband’s face.

  A muscle flexed in Nicholai’s jaw. After a moment of thought, he said, “Eustache, you will see your surname etched on many of the servants’ markers, going back many generations. However, before showing you those, we should step back into the chapel.”

  Gabriel couldn’t imagine what Beauvisage had in mind, but he followed his host, who had taken Eustache’s arm to guide him. The little group filed back into the chapel.