From Courtesan to Convenient Wife

by Marguerite Kaye

  Her eyes lit up. ‘You don’t need to, you know. I can go shopping with Madame Lambert.’

  ‘I am perfectly happy that you do, but I would prefer you to enjoy your first taste of our renowned food markets in my company. You will find it both fascinating and enjoyable.’

  ‘Won’t you find it a chore?’

  ‘How can making you happy ever be considered a chore?’

  Chapter Six

  For the momentous encounter with Mademoiselle de Cressy, Sophia chose a full-length pelisse of navy-blue satin, the bodice cut and fitted in the military style, softened by full sleeves, which were gathered at the wrist with a band of satin ribbon and trimmed with white lace. White braiding and large white buttons maintained the military effect, while the matching poke bonnet had a jaunty white feather. Tan leather boots and gloves completed the outfit.

  She and Jean-Luc were driving to Maxime Sainte-Juste’s office in a town carriage pulled by two horses and manned by two grooms, but Sophia was far too distracted to notice Paris passing outside the window. She had hardly slept, had been unable to eat her breakfast, and by now was quite sick with nerves. This was not a game they were playing, not a play they were enacting. In very different ways, this meeting could be the key to both Jean-Luc’s future and her own. And also, she supposed, that of Mademoiselle de Cressy.

  Beside her, his leg brushing her skirts, Jean-Luc was also carefully dressed. A dark blue double-breasted tailcoat showed off his broad shoulders to perfection. The high, starched collar of his white shirt enhanced his tanned skin. Fawn-coloured knitted pantaloons and glossy, tasselled Hessian boots encased his long, muscular legs. Like hers, his gloves were tan. He held on his lap a simple, black beaver hat with a narrow curved brim.

  ‘There is no need to be nervous,’ he said. When we rehearsed our little romantic fable last night, you were word-perfect.’

  ‘Yes, sitting at home, with no witnesses. Your friend, Maxime, what have you told him of me?’

  ‘Nothing at all. Maxime is on our side, Sophia.’

  On Jean-Luc’s side, more specifically, she thought but did not say. The lawyer, she knew, had been party to Jean-Luc’s signing The Procurer’s contract. He would likely assume she was an actress, and he would probably assume that ‘actress’ meant courtesan, which was, Sophia thought slightly hysterically, a horribly reasonable assumption.

  ‘Ma belle, you must stop worrying. You are my wife, remember.’ Jean-Luc kissed her gloved hand. ‘My beloved wife. Remember that too.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘And most of all remember that you are my much-desired wife,’ he said, his hand fluttering on her cheek, on her jaw. His mouth hovered over hers. ‘Even though we have already made love this morning...’

  ‘Jean-Luc!’

  ‘Sophia.’ His smile had a wicked edge to it that dissolved the butterflies in her tummy and made her blood tingle. ‘I should warn you, Wife, that your husband is about to kiss you.’

  He was not kissing her. He was kissing his wife. And as his wife it was her duty to surrender her lips to his. And to pretend to enjoy his touch. And if she did not have to pretend, it was simply because she was enjoying the novelty of it, and because it was just a kiss, nothing more, and...

  His lips touched hers. Not just a kiss but kisses, gentle soft kisses, making her mouth soften, mould itself to his. Another kiss, a proper kiss now, his tongue barely touching hers. Her hands reached for him, pulling him towards her of their own accord, and their lips clung together and she felt the oddest sensation, of a connection, a yearning for something she didn’t recognise, and when the carriage came to a halt, for a long moment their eyes met and he looked as surprised as she felt.

  ‘Now you look exactly as a newlywed bride should,’ Jean-Luc said, retrieving his hat from the carriage floor. ‘Are you ready?’

  A newlywed bride. She was his wife. He had not been kissing her, but his wife. He could not kiss her, because her own terms forbade it. Sophia straightened her bonnet. She was Madame Bauduin. Confident in her appearance. Confident in her position as the wife of one of France’s richest men. Confident of her husband’s deep affection. ‘Absolument, mon cher.’

  * * *

  ‘It was a coup de foudre, for both of us,’ Jean-Luc said, casting Sophia a yearning look. ‘One glance was enough.’

  ‘It was in Bond Street, wasn’t it, mon cher?’ Sophia returned his look. ‘I was looking to match some ribbons for a new hat.’

  ‘I had business with Berry Brothers, the wine merchants in St James’s Street, and I was walking back to my town house.’

  ‘He ran right into me. I dropped my packages. You picked them up did you not, mon amour?’

  Jean-Luc raised her hand to his mouth. ‘Our eyes met, just like this. And we knew.’

  Sophia smiled beatifically into her husband’s eyes. ‘We knew.’

  ‘I took her to tea,’ Jean-Luc said, returning his gaze to the other two interested parties. ‘And then the next day for a drive in Hyde Park, and we met every day after that, until a week before I was due to return to Paris I realised that I could not live without her.’

  ‘And so he proposed, on the spot.’ Sophia clasped her hands together ecstatically at her breast. ‘And of course I did not hesitate to accept. We were married just two days later by special licence. It was the happiest day of my life.’

  ‘Until we were reunited four days ago, that is,’ Jean-Luc chided her gently. ‘Surely that became our happiest day?’

  Sophia sighed. ‘I think that every day we have together will be happier than the one before.’

  There was a smile lurking in Jean-Luc’s eyes. She dropped her gaze demurely, lest she betrayed herself by bursting into laughter.

  ‘And there you have it,’ Jean-Luc continued. ‘The story of our whirlwind romance.’

  ‘It is certainly a highly romantic story.’ Maxime Sainte-Juste spoke with just sufficient irony to make Jean-Luc cast him a reproving glance.

  The lawyer was not at all the stern, scholarly man Sophia had imagined, but rather boyishly good-looking, with dark brown wavy hair, blue eyes, and a mouth that seemed to smile, even when, as now, he was not doing so. As Sophia had suspected, the man had clearly made his mind up about her before she walked into the office. She treated the lawyer to one of her sweetest smiles. ‘All the more remarkable for being a true story, monsieur.’

  ‘But of course, Madame Bauduin, I did not...’

  ‘You were married in March, you say, Madame Bauduin? Yet you did not arrive in Paris until four days ago,’ Juliette de Cressy interjected.

  As Jean-Luc smoothly launched into the story of Sophia’s mythical companion and the need to settle her in the English countryside, Juliette de Cressy became increasingly agitated, and Sophia struggled not to feel sorry for her. Though only twenty-two years old, the French woman had about her a quiet air of sophistication, a poise and an elegance, combined with a cut-glass accent that lent a great deal of credence to her claim to be the daughter of nobility. She was also very beautiful, with hair which had the same blue-black lustre as Jean-Luc’s, and skin like porcelain. She was tiny, of delicate build, with huge eyes, a retroussé nose, and a full mouth. The perfectly bred wife for a duke, rather ironically, Sophia thought.

  ‘My husband was so kind,’ she said, recognising her cue, ‘as to purchase a little cottage for her, in the village where she grew up and though it was my heart’s desire to be with him in Paris, it was a small sacrifice to make, to remain with her for a few weeks to ensure that she had every comfort.’

  ‘And for me,’ Jean-Luc chimed in, ‘a small sacrifice to make, to ensure that my wife came to me knowing she had done her duty at home. Though I counted off every day on my calendar.’

  ‘And I on mine.’

  ‘And yet, despite your excitement and joy, you shared your happy news with no one,’ Juliette de Cressy said, frowning.


  ‘Maxime knew, for he drew up the settlements, didn’t you, Maxime?’

  ‘As you say.’ The lawyer fidgeted with a brass paperweight, obviously deeply uncomfortable even with this half-lie.

  ‘And the formal announcement was in the press yesterday. You will no doubt have seen it, mademoiselle? Yes, I thought so, though I brought a copy for you, just in case it had escaped your notice.’

  ‘It did not.’ Mademoiselle de Cressy was very pale. ‘You are aware, Madame Bauduin, of my prior claim?’

  ‘I know of the marriage contract to which you claim my husband is a party.’

  ‘Ah. And like your husband, you think that I am a fraud, no? But of course you do. You are his wife, and it is very obvious that you are besotted with him.’

  Which statement should please Sophia very much. Clearly Juliette de Cressy believed their story. Unfortunately, it was equally clear that she believed her own too. ‘No one is accusing you of fraud, mademoiselle,’ she said gently.

  ‘Your husband...’

  ‘My husband,’ Sophia said, putting her hand on Jean-Luc’s to forestall him, ‘most understandably, is extremely unsettled by your various claims. You will admit, will you not, that they are extraordinary?’

  Juliette de Cressy shrugged. ‘To me, no. It is a story Maman and Papa told to me, like many they told, of the days before the Revolution. Of course, I never thought that I would be forced to honour the marriage contract, but then I never thought that I would lose Maman and Papa while I am still so young.’ She dabbed at her eyes with a delicate lace handkerchief. ‘We were very happy in Switzerland. I was their only child, and they loved me very much, Madame Bauduin. Their loss, I feel it still, though it has been almost nine months now, since Papa—excuse me, I find it very difficult to talk about.’

  ‘There is no need to apologise, mademoiselle. When one loses someone close, time has no meaning.’

  ‘That is so true. However...’ The Frenchwoman tilted her chin determinedly at Jean-Luc. ‘We are not here to discuss my loss, but the consequences of it. Though I have no particular desire to be married to a complete stranger, none the less this particular stranger was selected as suitable for me by Papa, and so I must trust that he has, as in all else, my best interests at heart.’

  ‘So close to his heart,’ Jean-Luc said, ‘that he died without making adequate provision for you.’

  ‘Papa did make provision for me,’ Mademoiselle de Cressy exclaimed. ‘He provided me with you!’

  ‘You cannot have me, mademoiselle, because I am already married.’

  ‘But you cannot be, when you were already contracted to wed me!’ Mademoiselle de Cressy wailed. ‘I am very sorry, Madame Bauduin, but I do not see how your marriage can be legal. My marriage contract was made in good faith, and must take precedence. You must have your marriage annulled. Or you must obtain a divorce. Or you must—you must do something—because this man is obliged to marry me.’

  ‘Mademoiselle, you must try to calm yourself. Hysteria will get us nowhere.’

  ‘Calm myself! How can I calm myself? What do you think I will do if I cannot be married? I have nothing, madame, absolutely nothing, save the arrangement my father made for me with his best friend. And, yes,’ she said, turning on Jean-Luc, ‘it is true that he made no attempt to enforce the contract when he was alive, I admit that, but that is because he was loath to let me go. I was sixteen when Maman died. For the last six years, it has been just the two of us, myself and Papa. There was time, we both thought there was plenty of time, for me to find a husband of suitable standing of my own choosing, or for him to contact the one he had already agreed for me.’

  ‘So I was your insurance policy? How romantic,’ Jean-Luc said sardonically.

  ‘I do not mean to sound calculating, but as it turns out I need to cash in my insurance policy after all. I am left alone and quite bereft, with no dowry and therefore no prospect of making a match with any respectable gentleman. All I ask for is what is rightfully mine, the marriage Papa arranged for me. Do you understand?’

  ‘Mademoiselle de Cressy...’

  ‘No, Jean-Luc, let me answer her.’ Sophia got up to take the seat beside Mademoiselle de Cressy. ‘I do understand, I assure you. I know that there are very few options open to gently bred women who find themselves on their own. I can see that you do feel quite desperate.’

  ‘Oui. I do. It is not that I wish to deprive you of your husband, Madame Bauduin, I can see that you love him, and that he loves you, but he has no right to do so.’

  ‘Mademoiselle... Juliette—may I call you Juliette?’ Waiting for her nod, Sophia angled her body to give the illusion that they were alone. ‘Your papa was very proud of your family name, your heritage, I think? Yes, I thought so. He would wish you to marry a man with a heritage he could be proud to be associated with, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘That is why he contracted me to marry the son of the Duc de Montendre.’

  ‘But my husband is not that man.’

  ‘He is.’ Juliette crossed her arms and pursed her lips. ‘I assure you, he is.’

  And Sophia was forced to accept that Juliette truly did believe so. Aware that Jean-Luc and his lawyer were watching intently, she tried a different tack. ‘Surely you would prefer to choose your own husband.’

  ‘As I have already pointed out, despite being the daughter of a comte and of noble birth, I have no dowry whatsoever. That fact renders me unmarriageable in polite society, so choice doesn’t enter into it.’

  Maxime coughed. ‘As to that, Monsieur Bauduin has already offered you a financial settlement which you rejected out of hand. My client has authorised me to table an improved offer comprising a lump sum dowry and an annual income. Which, if I may say so, is a remarkably generous gesture given he is under no obligation to offer you anything. I urge you to accept, so that all parties may move on from this most unfortunate situation.’

  ‘No!’ Juliette jumped to her feet, her eyes blazing with anger. ‘What kind of woman would I be, to accept money to conveniently disappear? I am not some—some trollop to be paid off. If I accepted Monsieur Bauduin’s offer, essentially a bribe to keep me silent, then I would be left quite without a character.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand,’ the lawyer said, ‘why then are you so set on marrying my client?’

  ‘I am not at all interested in marrying Monsieur Bauduin. I want to marry the Duc de Montendre.’ Juliette twisted her lace handkerchief into a tight ball, breathing heavily, clearly trying desperately to regain control of herself. When she spoke again, she was still shaking, but her voice was calm. ‘I cannot accept money, because it would confirm what you think, that I am a charlatan. I am not. My claim on the Duc de Montendre is a valid one, and your client is the Duc de Montendre.’

  ‘Mademoiselle de Cressy, if you would permit me, I would like to consult with Monsieur Bauduin,’ Maxime said hesitantly.

  ‘No, there is no need,’ Jean-Luc said firmly. ‘Here are my terms, Mademoiselle de Cressy. I assume that you are determined to press your claim?’

  ‘I have no option.’

  ‘Very well then, you will remain here in Paris for the time being. Maxime will ensure that you have sufficient funds to keep you in respectable lodgings along with your maidservant. The arrangements will be made in such a way that the proprieties will be observed. I leave that with Maxime to discuss with yourself. I will have no dealings with you other than through Maxime, and I will require your promise that you will speak to no one other than Maxime on this matter.’

  ‘But why should I agree...?’

  ‘I am coming to that, mademoiselle. I sympathise with your predicament. I understand that you are overwrought. I understand that your circumstances are straitened. But you must see that the solution is not for me to abandon the woman I love...’ Jean-Luc paused to press a kiss to Sophia’s hand ‘...for a complete stranger.
’

  ‘In our circle, such marriages are not uncommon. Maman said that she met Papa only twice before they were married, and they were very happy.’

  ‘But your father was not in love with another woman,’ Sophia pointed out.

  ‘Of course not!’ Juliette said indignantly. ‘But...’

  ‘I have not yet finished.’ Jean-Luc spoke with quiet authority. Juliette, who was, Sophia was beginning to suspect, rather too used to getting her own way, stiffened, pouted, but was silenced.

  ‘My wife and I have only just been reunited. We have better things to do than set about trying to disprove your claim, but none the less, that is what we will now do. I do not know how long that will take us, but I can promise you, Mademoiselle de Cressy, that we will succeed, and I will give you my word of honour that when we are done, we will lay all the evidence before you. You will now give me your word of honour that when we do, you will accept the proof and withdraw your claim.’

  ‘The only evidence you will find will prove that I am telling the truth. And then—’

  One look at Jean-Luc’s face, and Juliette broke off.

  ‘I think that Mademoiselle de Cressy understands,’ Maxime Sainte-Juste said, breaking the short silence. ‘Do you not, mademoiselle?’

  Juliette nodded.

  ‘And you are happy to give Monsieur Bauduin your word,’ the lawyer said, encouraging her with a gentle smile, ‘that whatever evidence he uncovers, you will accept the findings?’

  Juliette heaved a sigh. ‘I have no option.’

  ‘That was ungracious, mademoiselle.’

  Juliette turned to the lawyer in surprise, her big eyes wide. ‘I’m sorry. I did not mean...’ She heaved another sigh. ‘You are quite right, it was most ungracious.’ She turned to Jean-Luc. ‘My apologies. You have my word of honour that I will accept your findings and my word that in the meantime, I will say nothing of this to anyone. Since I have no acquaintance in Paris anyway...’