by Ford, TA
The count looked from one to the other. “What goes on here? ” He looked at Zoé.
“I was just getting to know your houseguest. She’s lovely.”
He gave her one last glance and stepped away from her. Zoé stared straight ahead, as determined to hide her relief as she had been to mask her fear.
La Roque’s eyes were dark with suspicion and his smile forced. “The ladies are in the conservatory. I suggest you join them.”
Sheridan gave La Roque a nod, then turned on his heel and walked out. La Roque watched him go before turning back to Zoé.
“Are you well? ”
She blinked back a tear and glared at him. “Why should it be of interest to you? ”
“What do you mean? ”
“You know what it means.”
He shifted his stance uncomfortably. She turned away from him but could feel his presence as he approached her.
“You rejected me,” he said. “What was I supposed to do? ”
She turned around angrily, but before she could speak, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She loved the taste of him and returned his amorous caresses. Then she remembered. She pushed him away and spoke to him, shaking with anger.
“Last night, you take me to your bed and this morning you propose to my sister. How dare you!”
He winced. “But I’m not marrying your sister, Zoé, not unless you come along as the prize.”
Zoé dropped her hand from her mouth, stunned. “What?”
“I have summoned your father for you. I want you.”
“My father would never agree to such an arrangement.” She was disgusted.
He didn’t answer, just studied her. She thought she saw a hint of sadness in his eyes, a trace of world-weariness. His voice was indeed tired when he spoke, but it was a tiredness that came from the soul.
“Everyone has a price,” he said, “even your father.”
His words chilled her. Moments before he had embraced her and now he displayed the coldness of his friend, Monsieur Sheridan. La Roque had already taken something he did not appreciate but could never return. Now he threatened to strip her of what she held most dear: her trust in her father and belief in his love. Her father was her refuge, the source of her strength. His was a reassuring voice in a world that said her only value was as a mistress for lustful, insatiable men. And now La Roque wanted her to doubt him.
“I shall never let you near me again! Never!”
He paused in the doorway and smiled. “You may have no choice,” he said with a conspiratorial wink before walking away.
Zoé rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. What had she gotten herself into? How would she get out of it?
The sheets! Sheridan’s intrusion had driven them from her mind. Worse, it had cost her time. She’d have to find that maid and quick! Once her father arrived, she would leave with him, but first she had to make sure that no one knew what had happened between her and La Roque.
EF In the conservatory, Madame Bouchard was enjoying the witty exchange between her daughter and Flynn Sheridan. She disliked and distrusted him on instinct, but she was proud of the way Marianne held her own against him. From the corner of her eye, she saw a young chambermaid enter and wondered what she was up to. She was surprised when the girl made her way across the room and sidled up next to her.
“Madame, may I speak with you? ” The older woman raised an eyebrow. In her household, servants did not speak unless they’d been spoken to. It surprised her to learn that it might be different in a household as illustrious as La Roque’s.
“Oui? Qu’est-ce qui se passe?” Yes, what is it? ”
“May I show you? ”
Madame Bouchard’s expression of surprise deepened
into puzzlement. “Bien. But make it quick.” Geneviève led Madame out to the hall. There the maid went to a wicker laundry basket and withdrew a soiled white nightgown.
“I am sorry, but I found this gown and some soiled linen in your daughter’s room.”
Madame Bouchard took the linens and fingered them. She read the stains as though she were reading a book. Their meaning was clear. Her face flushed with anger. “Which daughter? ” Both Marianne and Zoé had gowns like this one.
“La Mûlatresse.”
Madame felt a wave of relief followed closely by a rush of anger. “Who knows of this? ”
“No one.”
“Bien. Take these to my room. Do not wash them.” Madame Bouchard gave the chambermaid a suspicious look. This slip of a girl had betrayed the master of her house. Why? “What’s your name? ” she asked.
“Geneviève.”
“And you’ve been with le Comte for how long? ” “Two years.”
“He’s been a good master? ”
Geneviève looked at her with surprise. “Bien sûr, madame.”
“And this is how you repay him? ”
A blush turned the girl’s cheeks a bright pink. She averted her eyes.
Madame considered her. She could imagine any number of reasons why the girl might have risked such a ploy. Perhaps it was jealousy, or maybe the hope of gaining favor with the future mistress of the manor. Madame decided that, for the moment at least, the reason didn’t matter. What did matter was the girl’s sense of discretion.
Like magic, two coins appeared in Madame’s hand. She handed the linens back to Geneviève and in the same smooth motion slipped the coins into the maid’s palm.
The girl’s face lit up. “Oh, merci!” She started to tuck the money away, but Madame gripped her by her wrist.
“You shall keep this to yourself,” she whispered. “Or else. Do you understand? ”
Geneviève swallowed hard. “Naturellement. You may trust in me.”
Madame smiled grimly and let her go. Geneviève gave a grateful curtsey and the coins disappeared into the deep folds of her skirt.
Madame Bouchard dismissed the girl with a nod, her thoughts already elsewhere. This was a disaster. If—
La Roque came down the hall. She was instantly suspicious. Had he been upstairs with Zoé? Another assignation? Anger and indignation got in the way of her good sense. She confronted him.
“Mon seigneur, may I have a word? ”
Looking puzzled, he agreed and indicated the open entrance to the drawing room.
Once inside, he closed the door behind them. She turned on him, so furious that she could barely get out her words.
“My daughter, Zoé… Did you–I mean, have you…? ”
La Roque narrowed his eyes. “Have I what?”
The intense blue flames of his eyes unsettled her. She cleared her throat, drew herself up and began again.
“This morning, you said you wanted to see my husband with regard to my daughter. I believed that you were speaking of Marianne, but now I must wonder. Just what are your intentions?”
La Roque rubbed his trimmed beard. “With all due respect, my intentions will be explained to your husband soon enough.”
So it was true. He had bedded Zoé and now he wanted to take that bastard child over her precious Marianne.
“You couldn’t possibly hope to have a future with her,” Madame blurted out. “She’s a mûlatresse!”
She took bitter pleasure in his stunned expression, but if she thought he would back down, she was mistaken. He recovered quickly.
“But she is your daughter, too. Is she not just a companion? Are you now saying that she is someone less? Does your husband share that sentiment? ”
Madame blinked, flustered. “She has no dowry. When her father hears of what she has done, she’ll be lucky if he doesn’t ship her off to America.”
La Roque’s anger was cold and swift. “Attendez. What did or did not happen between your daughter and me is a matter for discussion with your husband and not you.”
“But—”
“I strongly suggest that you forget this conversation until then.”
“I—”
“If you choose to pursue this matter and admonish her in
any way, then I shall have to share with your husband how intrusive you were in his affairs. Comprenez?”
She was silent.
His jaw clenched. “I repeat. Do you understand? ”
Her face revealed her humiliation. “Oui.”
He strode to the door, opened it and stood aside. She marched past him, her head held high, her back stiff. He followed. They headed back to the conservatory, with him a step behind her, tense and silent.
Seething, she thought of Zoé. No doubt the girl had planned this all along. As for La Roque–she glanced at his handsome profile. He had just proven that despite his wealth, culture and finesse, he was like any other man: foolish when it came to dark flesh.
Madame scolded herself. She should have anticipated the possibility of such a development. Thank goodness for that treacherous little maid. She’d make sure Marianne fired her. It was dangerous to have someone so disloyal in the household. But that was the future. It was the present that counted, and, for now, matters looked grim.
This, however, was not the end of it. No, she promised herself. This battle wasn’t lost. Not yet, not by a long shot. EF
Zoé made her way to the lower west wing of the estate where the washing and cooking was done. The femme de charge over the staff saw her come through the door and approached.
“Yes, mademoiselle. May I be of assistance? ” she asked. The woman’s tone was sharp and irritated. It was inappropriate when speaking to someone of her social standing. If Zoé had been in her normal state of mind, she would’ve said something cutting to put the woman in her place, but she was upset and had no energy for a verbal duel.
“I was looking for the chambermaid who cleaned my room.”
The mistress’s gaze was knowing. “Why? Is there something wrong? ”
Zoé saw the other maids smirking and snickering at her. She flushed, realizing what that meant. She couldn’t very well ask for the sheets now. Looking over to the right, she saw a pile of linen being prepared for the wash. With a sigh, she said, “No, everything is well,” and turned to leave.
Once outside the quarters, she closed the door and leaned against it. If the sheets were about to be washed, then nothing more could come of it. She was panicking for nothing. She headed down the dark corridor and climbed the stairs, holding on to her long skirt. There was nothing to fear. She had to stop being so paranoid. Soon Father would come, and she could leave this place and her secret indiscretion behind.
Wandering the halls, she happened upon the conservatory. Entering, she saw Marianne smiling at something Monsieur Sheridan had said. Madame caught Zoé looking in and locked eyes with her. Zoé recoiled, for the look her stepmother had given her was murderous. She swallowed and offered a weak smile, hoping that Madame’s anger was just from her disappearing act.
“Glad that you could join us,” La Roque said, coming up behind her.
Zoé jumped and turned to see him standing close. It unnerved her further to realize how his presence intimidated her and provoked memories of his illicit touch. She flashed a halfsmile.
“I’m feeling better,” she said and moved away, toward Madame. Marianne saw her and excused herself from Sheridan, who cut his eyes at Zoé.
“Sister, we must ask Father to let us visit America soon,” Marianne said. “Monsieur Sheridan has been telling me some of the most interesting tales.”
Zoé felt Sheridan’s gaze, but ignored it and focused on Marianne. “I don’t want to go to America,” she said, drawing Marianne away.
“Are you still sick? ” Marianne asked.
“No,” Zoé said with a flash of annoyance. “Would you quit saying that I’m sick!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Zoé regretted her sharp tone. “Non, ma petite. C’est moi qui dois m’excuser. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Marianne squeezed her hand as their mother approached. Madame’s stern expression reawakened Zoé’s fear. With arms folded across her heavy bosom, Madame fixed her with a stony glare.
“Well, someone looks better.”
“Yes, I am feeling better.”
“Of course you are.”
Zoé thought it better to remain silent. She didn’t understand Madame’s sudden cynicism and feared that the wrong response–perhaps, any response at this point–might further inflame her stepmother’s anger.
La Roque joined them, his hands clasped behind his back. “Would you like to go for a ride? I think Mademoiselle Marianne said she did so for sport.”
Marianne clapped her hands. “Oui, we both would love to!”
“Nonsense,” said La Roque. “I say how we ride. Shall we? ”
Zoé said nothing. She kept glancing at Madame, wondering.
“Very well,” La Roque said. “Monsieur Sheridan and I would like to take you two for a ride, along with you Madame of course. But I fear you may be too exhausted to join us? Am I right? ”
“Naturellement,” Madame said with a smile. “The girls would love to see your land. And again you are very perceptive; I think I shall retire to a nap.” She turned to them both. “Make sure to be back at a decent hour.”
Zoé and Marianne nodded. Madame looked at Zoé. “When you return, Zoé, I would like a word with you.” “Oui, Madame,” Zoé curtsied.
La Roque gave Madame a pointed look. She responded with a polite curtsey, and then walked out. La Roque glanced at Zoé, and then turned to Sheridan.
“Looks like we’re set to be their guides,” said La Roque. “You ride with Marianne, and I shall take Zoé.”
Marianne spoke up. “Mon seigneur, I am sure my sister prefers to ride with Monsieur Sheridan. Wouldn’t you, Zoé? ” She gave Zoé a hopeful look.
Marianne stuck out her lower lip, but she accepted Sheridan’s elbow, wrapped her arm around his and allowed him to lead her out. Zoé watched them leave, then turned on La Roque. She kept her voice to a whisper and spoke through clenched teeth.
“Why are you doing this? ”
“Because I want to… and because you wish the same.”
“I want you to stop.”
La Roque’s response was to take her by the arm and escort her out to the stables. She tried to wrench her arm free, but he held her fast. Finally, she gave up.
Marianne glared at her as they entered the stables. Zoé sent her an apologetic smile, at which Marianne turned up her nose and looked away.
What am I going to do? Zoé wondered. She had to stop La Roque’s flirtations. Soon, Madame and Marianne would become suspicious. They’d put it together and she’d be exposed. She just couldn’t stand much more of this worry. She just wasn’t good at this kind of charade.
La Roque asked that the Palominos be brought out and saddled. While waiting, La Roque honored his guests with a short tour around the stable, proudly displaying his stock. The horses were magnificent specimens with lean muscles and gleaming coats. But Sheridan teased his old friend, joking that La Roque’s horses were emaciated compared to his own proud stock in Carolina.
“Emaciated? ” La Roque repeated. “Oh, you mean not slow and potbellied? Like horses grown fat and lazy off plantation living?”
Zoé thought she caught a flash of anger in Sheridan’s eyes, but his reply showed nothing but smooth and polished humor. La Roque responded in kind and the jest continued. Zoé realized that this exchange of friendly insults was part of their friendship, a friendship that had endured for years. At the thought of their many years of brotherhood, her attention went to her sister, who had openly ignored Zoé except to glare at her every now and then. Marianne had hung behind and now stood a couple of stalls back, rubbing the nose of a friendly mare. Zoé approached her.
“Marianne,” she began, “I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize. He was just being polite to you. We both know that he’s sending for Father for me.”
Marianne’s words hurt, as they were meant to.
“Trés bien,” Zoé said. She would show her spoiled litt
le sister what it meant to be desired as a woman. Glancing up, she saw that La Roque paused to give a young filly some extra attention, while Sheridan leaned indolently against an empty stall. Zoé turned from Marianne, went up to La Roque and slipped her arm around his.
“That’s a lovely horse,” she said.
He smiled down at her. “Not as lovely as you.”
Zoé glanced back at Marianne, who stood there, pouting. Zoé enjoyed a small sense of victory, but it was fleeting. Her inner alarm bells went off as the creature posing as a gentleman walked over to Marianne and murmured something in her ear.
Marianne smiled up at him. “Keep me close,” she giggled. “It’s the best way to ride.”
“Never fear. I shall.” Sheridan slipped an arm around Marianne’s waist. “I most certainly shall.”
Zoé disliked the way Sheridan looked at Marianne. He was not to be trusted. She started to say something, but before she could utter a warning, the horses were brought out.
La Roque placed his gloved hands around Zoé’s tiny waist. There was no hesitation or clumsiness in his touch as he stepped up on the mounting block to give her a lift. She slid smoothly into the leather saddle, seating herself sidewise and grimacing from the forbidden aches of their passionate night. He gave her another conspiratorial wink, understanding her discomfort, and then in one deft move, climbed into the saddle to sit snugly behind her. Her breath caught at the sense of his closeness. If only…
Her gaze fixed on her sister, perched with Sheridan. He saw Zoé’s look and smirked.
Zoé whispered over her shoulder to La Roque. “Will she be safe with him? ” She felt him turn to give them a quick glance.
“Of course!” he said.
“But—”
He cut her off, kicking his heels for the horse to go. Zoé rested her hands on the raised pommel as La Roque guided the animal out onto his land. She enjoyed the protective sensation of having his strong arms around her. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Marianne giggling, her curls blowing loosely from under her bonnet. As long as the four of them stayed together, Marianne would be safe.
“Where are we going? ” she asked.
“It’s a surprise,” he said, his face close to hers.
