“I slept very well, thank you, my lord. May I offer you some refreshments? A glass of wine, perhaps?” She wished desperately to divert him from the subject of last night.
“Not at the moment.”
“Shall I ring for…”
“Forget the amenities, Cousin Nicole. I have a few comments to make regarding last night.” He sounded stern, as if he were about to read her a lecture. “First, I must offer my profound apologies for behavior unbecoming a gentleman and more importantly, for subjecting you, my future wife, to such indignities.”
“Please, speak no more of it. It is past and forgotten,” Nicole implored. Besides, he was ahead of her in his assumption that the marriage matter was all settled.
“But I cannot pass over it lightly. It is of deep concern to me that you have no male protector to demand satisfaction of me.”
Nicole looked up in startled surprise. “But, my lord, it is yourself against whom you are seeking satisfaction, If I am willing to overlook what…”
“That is precisely the matter,” the Viscount interrupted her impatiently. “It is not a matter for you to overlook.”
The absurdity of the situation struck Nicole forcefully, and she began to laugh a little hysterically.
The Viscount stiffened visibly. “My dear girl, I fail to see…”
“But, my lord, it is over,” she interrupted him, striving to interject a note of lightness into his heavy-handed interview.
Valentin did not respond to her effort. “Last night I.believed I had grievously offended the innocence of a girl of gentle breeding,” he claimed in tones of deadly quiet.
There was a sudden stillness before Nicole replied. “And today?”
“Today, I wonder if my original approach would not have-proven more suitable.”
There was an audible gasp from Madame Lafitte.
“How dare you!” Nicole retorted, outraged.
“Do you still ask me how I dare?” he returned cuttingly.
“You insufferable…”
“Fortune hunter?”
“Get out!” Nicole demanded.
“You forget, my dear, I have as much right as you to be here.”
“We are not married yet.”
“But we will be.”
“Never.”
“In less than three weeks.”
“You will have to shoot me first.”
“Oh no. I have infinitely better plans for you.” His eyes roved over her insultingly.
Nicole turned on her heel to flee the room, but the Viscount caught hold of her arm and jerked her roughly to him. Their eyes blazed at each other, and then he deliberately clamped his mouth to hers while tangling his hands in her hair. Her gleaming tresses tumbled from the pins that fastened them. There was a flutter of distress from, the distant corner, but Valentin held Nicole’s head captive, and she could not move as his ardor increased. A shocked squeal of alarm from Madame Lafitte stopped him from further transgressions and he dropped his hands from Nicole.
“And now there will be no further question of the marriage taking place. Remember, my dear, in a little while you will be mine.” And he was gone.
Nicole pressed trembling hands to her flaming cheeks as Madame Lafitte came running to her side.
“Mon Dieu, mon Dieu. Quel sauvage! Mais si beau, si magnifique,” the little lady exclaimed, torn between outrage and admiration.
“Yes, he is rather a beautiful savage, isn’t he?” Nicole too was torn between outrage and admiration.
“What is to become of you and this Anglais, I tremble to think. Nicole, mon enfant, never did I dream to witness such a scene before my eyes. Have a care, chérie, this affair with your English relatives will come out all wrong if you do not resolve the contention between you.” Madame Lafitte’s prediction struck fear in Nicole’s heart, as if she already recognized its truth. She had already recognized the power of his kiss…
Chapter IV
Lady Eleanore and Cecily returned late Sunday night after Nicole and Madame Lafitte had retired. The following morning Nicole hurried downstairs toward the breakfast room, anxiously wondering what Lady Eleanore’s reaction to the news of the Viscount’s arrival would be. Nicole became aware of conversation emanating from the room beyond, and she hesitated at the threshold upon hearing Valentin’s name mentioned.
“So Ardsmore is here,” Lady Eleanore was saying as she folded the note her son had left for her.
“Here!” Cecily squealed. “Oh how wonderful!”
“Cecily, remember his reason for being here.”
“Is it really settled then? Is Val truly going to marry that… that… person?” Cecily’s voice quivered as if on the verge of tears.
“If I am to believe this note, Valentin has already spoken to Nicole and has settled the matter to his satisfaction.”
Nicole bristled with indignation and almost stepped forth but hesitated once more as Cecily continued her lament.
“I could cry for Val. Imagine being stuck with that odious creature.”
“Cecily, it is not your place to speak so. She is to be my son’s wife. I know what we both had hoped, my dear. But since it cannot be, I think you must accept John Til-ford. It will be arranged when we return to England.”
“But I do not wish to marry John!”
“Of course you do!” commanded Lady Eleanore in exasperation. “Will you not help me make the best of this difficult situation?”
Before Cecily had time to reply, Nicole entered the room.
“Ah, Nicole,” Lady Eleanore cooed. “We were just talking about you.”
“So I heard!” Nicole snapped, glaring from one woman to the other.
“Please Nicole, you must not take offense. Cecily has known my son all her life…”
“Yes, and it seems she had plans for him too.”
“And why shouldn’t I?” Cecily asked testily. “He would have been mine if it had not been for that old interfering woman Aunt Sophie. I always loved Val and I always will and… and I shall always hate you. Do you hear me—hate you! What right do you have to him, you… nobod.,” Cecily burst into tears and fled from the room.
Both women were silent for some moments before Lady Eleanore recovered and soothed, “It was most unfortunate that Cecily forgot herself, but,” she sighed, “I suppose I should have expected it. She has loved him for so long. I should not have brought her with me.”
Nicole was no longer angry with Cecily. She understood what it meant to love Valentin. Perhaps she was wrong to come between lovers.
“Your ladyship.” Violet eyes met solemn grey eyes. “Does the Viscount reciprocate Cecily’s feelings?”
“Good heavens, girl, what are you thinking? My son has always treated Cecily with the respect due a young lady living under my protection.”
“But… if he loves her,” she faltered. “It is still not too late to cancel the wedding.”
“Cancel the wedding! Don’t be absurd. Naturally, I had always hoped for a match between the two of them. But Ardsmore has never showed anything but brotherly regard for Cecily.”
Nicole breathed a sigh of relief.
“Besides, we are quite aware of what has to be done.”
“Oh yes, I almost forgot the monetary situation which will benefit us all.”
“That subject is closed,” Lady Eleanore replied with a finality that brooked no contradiction.
Attending to pressing business on behalf of the Duke of Wellington, the Viscount did not make an appearance at the Hotel Belmontaine for some time. Nicole had little time to consider his lack of courtship while her days were filled with wedding preparations—a whirlwind of faces, voices and duties. Besides the hours spent in fittings and social affairs, there were endless consultations with a dizzying array of merchants, cooks, servants, florists, bakers and caterers, all clamoring for their share of the monies flowing lavishly from the Hotel Belmontaine.
Nicole was sleeping poorly and eating almost nothing as the approaching wedding loo
med closer. She began to wonder where the Viscount was and could not shake a sense of foreboding. Why did he keep away? Buried deep beneath the surface stress of wedding preparations was a nameless fear of her marriage to Valentin. What kind of husband would he make? And more importantly, what kind of wife would she make for him?
The real fear she could not find the words to express was her fear of Valentin’s demanding masculinity. The picture of him the night he had stormed into her bedroom lay buried beneath all other thoughts. It lay waiting like forbidden fruit to tempt her to dark desires she was unaware she possessed.
She would collapse into bed at night and give herself over to the ministrations of Madame Lafitte, willing herself into an oblivion of sleep that was fitful and insufficient: This state of affairs could not last. Valentin had to make an appearance sooner or later, and when he came, Nicole was unprepared for him.
On a wintry morning shortly before the wedding, Nicole heard the clatter of horses’ hooves in the courtyard below and suddenly she was clutched by an unreasoning fear. Her head was splitting from the incessant demands made on her diminishing energies, and she felt unable to cope. She could not face him!
Voices in the corridor were coming nearer and she heard her name called, but was unable to respond, awaiting her inevitable discovery. At last there was a knock on the door, and the sound snapped her to her senses even though her nerves were still strung tight.
The door opened and Lady Eleanore entered accompanied by the Viscount, resplendent in his military garb.
“Nicole, look’ who has finally made an appearance! Naughty boy, staying away all this time.” Lady Eleanore took her son’s arm possessively and drew him a step toward Nicole.
“It could not be helped, ma’am.”
Nicole forced herself to meet Valentin’s eyes. There was no mockery in his steady gaze when he took Nicole’s frozen hand in his, smiled brilliantly and kissed it.
“You are looking very beautiful, my dear. That shade of blue suits you admirably.”
Nicole realized he was trying to put her at her ease, and she returned his smile and curtsied. “We had looked for you sooner—”
The door flew open cutting off Nicole in mid-sentence.
“Oh Val! I did not know you had arrived.” Cecily stood tall and elegant in the doorway before crossing to him and offering her cheek.
“Cecily,” he smiled kissing her lightly. “Are you enjoying your stay in Paris?”
“I dare say it shall improve while you are here.” She smiled sweetly in return.
“I am sorry to disappoint you, my dear, but I shan’t be about much.”
“Why?” she paused and turned her glittering eyes onto Nicole. “Oh, you mean the honeymoon. But you won’t be gone that long. You don’t want to miss all the excitement of Christmas in Paris, do you?” She clung to his arm looking up beseechingly at him.
“This is not the time to be discussing Christmas, Cecily,” Lady Eleanore suggested. “Madame Dupré has prepared a cold luncheon. I am sure my son must be famished.”
In the dining room where a light collation of cold chicken and fruit salad was being served, the Viscount was brought up to date on the wedding plans. It had been decided that the ceremony would be performed at noon at the embassy. Valentin informed them that Wellington would not be able to attend since state affairs called him elsewhere. They also discussed the reception which would be held at the Hotel Belmontaine for those members of English society presently residing in Paris.
The Viscount commented little, accepting his mother’s lead in all matters of social proprieties. However, when Lady Eleanore mentioned the honeymoon, he interrupted her.
“I think you had best leave that to me, ma’am,” he drawled.
“Very well, Ardsmore. I suppose you and Nicole have matters you wish to discuss privately. Come, Cecily. We shall see you later my dears.”
Reluctantly, Cecily followed in the wake of Lady Eleanore.
Valentin and Nicole remained seated at the table in silence a few moments. Finally he asked, “Shall we take a walk in the conservatory, Nicole?”
“As you wish, my lord.”
He offered his arm and led her down the hall to the conservatory in the south wing of the house where the winter sunlight filtered softly through the glass onto the hanging ferns and pots of trailing fuchsias overhead. There was a marble bench surrounded by hot-house roses toward which the Viscount guided Nicole who shivered involuntarily as Valentin drew her shawl solicitously about her shoulders. Drawing her down on the bench beside him he kept his arm about her while she looked up at him for the first time and their eyes met in silent communication. Nicole was spellbound by his hypnotic blue gaze and feeling his breath on her cheek, she wished him to kiss her.
“Nicole,” he whispered. Then almost abruptly he moved away from her and stood up leaning against a pillar. “You shouldn’t look at a man that way, Nicole. No telling what could happen.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“What way, my lord?”
“Never mind. I will tell you after we are married.” He smiled mysteriously and‘her cheeks grew pink. “So let us talk about you and me and become acquainted with one another.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Valentin gave a quick laugh and sat beside her taking her hand. “You mustn’t keep calling me‘my lord’ if we are to be husband and wife, must you?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Good.” He smiled comfortably. “Now how long ago was it that we last met… the other evening notwith standing.”
“It was eleven years ago. The day of my father’s funeral, my lor—I mean—”
“Yes? Go ahead—it’s not so difficult to say my name, is it, Nicole?”
“Of course not… Valentin.”
He regarded her warmly. “Enchanting.”
Disconcerted by his gaze, Nicole spoke hastily. “I was thirteen at the time and you called me‘that ballet dancer’s daughter’.”
“Oh Lord,” he chuckled. “You must forgive a young man his folly, Nicole; I was only nineteen at the time myself.” He paused, looking at her intently. “Who would have thought eleven years would bring such changes.”
“You mean in our positions?”
“That among other things.”
“What other things?” she questioned innocently.
He raised his eyebrows mockingly. “The family fortunes, for one.”
“Is it true that much of it was gambled away?”
“More or less. Aunt Sophie’s fortune is rather timely. The inheritance solves a lot of tiresome problems.”
His complacency annoyed Nicole unreasonably. “I must say you don’t sound very contrite, my lord.”
“Should I?” There was a warning gleam in his eye.
“Shouldn’t you?”
Tension sparked between them as he regarded her silently. “Perhaps so,” he conceded reluctantly. “But gambling is one of the Harcourt traits, as you well know,” he replied pointedly.
“One I am happy to say I did not inherit,” she answered tartly.
“But I recall your father indulged himself heavily.”
“Are you criticizing my father?” Nicole bristled.
“Not at all. We Harcourts have all indulged our whims, and your father was no exception. Good Lord, Nicole, you must see that. He even…” He stopped abruptly.
“Go ahead. Say it. Even to the wife he chose!”
“Now I wasn’t going to say that.”
“Yes you were.” She jumped up from the bench.
“Good God, don’t fly into a rage.” He pulled her down beside him. “It seems you have the Harcourt temper, my dear.” Valentin smiled placatingly.
Nicole shuddered, attempting to control herself. They were going to quarrel again. She could feel it.
“If you will excuse me, my lord.”
“No, I will not, Nicole. We are going to be married soon, and we must come to an understanding.”
“I
am already resigned to my fate,” she replied foolishly.
“Well, that’s just fine; So I’m your fate, am I? Like some bitter pill? I’m too much of a Harcourt to resign myself to fate. And furthermore, I do not relish insults from anyone, especially my future wife,” he snapped.
“I—I did not mean to insult you.”
“Yes you did, now admit it.”
“No… I mean… it was not intentional…”
“Well, that at least is a start. Perhaps I will be able to change your mind in time about resigning yourself to fate.” He lifted her chin with his finger and forced her to look into his penetrating blue eyes while he stroked her chin with his thumb. Once again Nicole felt drawn to him as he lowered his head to hers.
“My lord.” It was Pierre. “Excuse me, but there are some gentlemen waiting to see you. They say it is important.”
The Viscount swore to himself. “Very well, Pierre. I shall be along directly.” He stood up. “It seems I am needed elsewhere, so I will take my leave of you now, Nicole.” He kissed her hand perfunctorily and left.
Nicole sat staring disconsolately after his departing figure. She had wanted him to kiss her. How could he just walk out in such a cavalier manner, leaving her hanging mid-way between fear and desire? It was humiliating to realize that he could manipulate her feelings so easily. She struggled with herself for several minutes before regaining her composure and retracing her steps down the hallway. The sound of agitated voices reached her from the open library door.
“Hell and damnation, Danforth. Couldn’t you have done something to ward off this young fool?”
“I am afraid not, Ardsmore. Your brother had no choice but to challenge him to a duel.”
“Of all the blundering maneuvers…”
“Pon my soul, Val. What was I to do? Stand around and let him insult the family about that ballet dancer?”
“Quiet!” The Viscount warned, closing the library door and shutting off the sound of their voices.
Ballet dancer! Those words reverberated sickeningly in Nicole’s brain. Did they refer to her mother? She clenched her hands convulsively to her sides. Who else could they mean? It must be her mother. Cheeks flaming with humiliation and rage, she crossed the hallway and fled to her room where she paced the floor restlessly. Was she never to be free of her mother’s past? Her mind was a chaotic turmoil as she tried to recall just what she had heard. What was that about a duel? Was Perry to fight a duel? Oh, she could not stand this half-knowing. She must have the complete truth. She would seek out the Viscount now and confront him. But first she must calm herself. Valentin must be made to speak honestly with her, and this matter of her mother must be settled once and for all.
Sweet Bravado Page 4
