The Rake to Redeem Her
Page 21
The comtesse shrugged. ‘Eh bien, I love him, too. But what do you mean to do now? It was many weeks after you disappeared before he was happy and comfortable. Surely you won’t upset him again, by wrenching him from my care?’
‘It was to safeguard his happiness and well-being, and for that reason alone, that I did not take him with me when I had the opportunity two months ago. But as much as I appreciate your care of him, he is my son and I want him back.’
The comtesse was shaking her head. ‘But you cannot mean to take him now, surely! Give him some time! He is too young to understand all of this. You would only confuse and upset him.’
‘We don’t intend to take him away from you immediately,’ Will inserted. ‘Right now, he thinks of this as home and of you as his maman. What we propose is that my wife be reunited with him, spend time with him, let him become comfortable with her again. Once he is enough at ease with her to agree to it, we will take him to stay with us.’
Tears gathered in the comtesse’s eyes. ‘And then I will never see him again? Ah, madame, if you only knew what it is like to lose your son for ever, you would not be so cruel.’
‘Believe me, I know!’ Elodie retorted. ‘Mine has been lost to me for nearly two years.’
‘He wouldn’t be far away,’ Will said. ‘I was sent to Paris on an economic mission to the French government. If negotiations succeed and we proceed to implement the plans, I could remain in Paris for many months. You would be able to see Philippe daily, if you liked.’
‘I would like him to remain here,’ the comtesse replied wistfully. ‘My own son is dead; never in this life will I hold him again. But your son, madame, is alive. Though in taking him back you cut out my heart, I … I will not prevent you. Only, I beg you, don’t drag him away until he is ready to go willingly.’
‘I would take him no other way.’ Elodie walked over and put a hand on the comtesse’s arm. ‘Thank you. I know how difficult it must be for you to agree to let him go. But as my husband said, we will be in Paris for an extended time. It will be weeks yet, probably, before he is willing to leave you, months after that before we would return to England.’
The comtesse shook her head sadly. ‘There are not enough months in eternity to reconcile me to losing him.’
‘You shall never lose him,’ Elodie reassured her. ‘Not completely. How could you, when you will always hold a special place in his heart? I promise I will never attempt to erase your image there.’
‘Even though I let him forget you?’ the comtesse replied. ‘But surely you see that was different. I thought you were dead! Why should I remind him of a woman who would never return to him?’
‘As long as you both make his welfare your first concern, I don’t see why we can’t all come to a sensible agreement,’ Will said.
‘Can I see him now?’ Elodie asked.
Knowing her so well, Will could hear the longing in her voice. Knowing, too, that negotiating the terms of Philippe’s custody would cause her anxiety—and wanting to make sure, in case the comtesse possessed any of her brother’s perfidy, that the woman understood exactly what Will was prepared to do to enforce the agreement—Will said, ‘Yes, comtesse, would you please have Philippe sent down now? Elodie, my love, you’re too distracted and anxious to think clearly. Why don’t you go out—’ he gestured towards the French doors leading out to a small, formal garden that stretched between the hôtel’s two wings ‘—and take a stroll while we wait for the boy? The comtesse and I can discuss the particulars.’
Gratitude and relief in her eyes, Elodie said, ‘Thank you. I would like that.’
Will kissed her hand. ‘Into the garden with you, then.’
After the doors shut behind his wife, Will turned back to the comtesse. ‘I’m pleased that you are choosing to be reasonable, madame.’
She sighed. ‘I don’t wish to be. I should like to pack Philippe up and run away with him to a place where you would never find us. But … I do know what it is to lose a son. I’m not sure I could live with myself, if I were to deliberately cause another such pain.’
‘I applaud your sentiments. My wife, too, wants only what is best for her son, else I would have snatched the boy for her when we first found him. But I should also warn you, in case your longing to have sole control over the boy should ever triumph over your more noble feelings, that having grown up on the streets of London, I myself possess no tender sensibilities whatsoever. There is nowhere you could run where I would not eventually find you. I’d steal the boy back without a qualm, and he’d be halfway to a Channel port before you even knew he was missing. Once safely with his mother in England, protected by the influence of my family, you truly would never see him again.’
The comtesse gasped. ‘You would do that, monsieur? But that is monstrous!’
‘Perhaps, but there’s not need to do anything “monstrous” as long as you are sensible. Considering that Philippe isn’t truly your son, the arrangement we propose is quite favourable for you.’
‘Favourable or poor, you do not leave me much choice, do you?’
‘That was my intention,’ Will replied. ‘Some day, when he’s older, Philippe must be told the truth, preferably before he works it out on his own. Come now, madame, let us put away our swords. We need not be opponents. Both you and my wife love Philippe. How could he not benefit from having two mothers to love him? The arrangement will work, I promise you.’
The comtesse sighed. ‘It had better. Your wife has you, monsieur. Philippe is all I have left.’
‘Then you will do everything necessary to make sure you keep him in your life. So we’re agreed?’
At the comtesse’s reluctant nod, Will said, ‘Excellent. The boy should be down soon; I’ll go fetch my wife.’
Will went quickly into the garden to find Elodie, who, pale and nervous, was pacing around and around the intricate knot garden.
As always, her distress made his chest ache. ‘Have courage, sweeting!’ he soothed. ‘Philippe will be with you soon and you’ll never lose him again.’
‘Oh, Will, I know you promised me this would work, but are you sure? The comtesse is not just acquiescing to get us to leave, with no intention of honouring the agreement?’
Wrapping an arm around Elodie, he tilted up her chin and gave her a reassuring kiss. ‘Do you really think I would let that happen?’
She gave him a wobbly smile. ‘No. If I’ve learned nothing else since Vienna, I know I can trust you to make happen whatever you promise you will.’
‘Then stop worrying, mon ange. All you desire will soon be yours.’
Taking her hand, he led her back into the salon.
Hardly daring to believe that she was truly going to have her son back again, Elodie fixed her gaze on the hallway door, hungry for her first glimpse of Philippe. When, a few minutes later, he skipped in, a joy of unimaginable sweetness filled her.
‘Are we going visiting, Maman?’ he asked, trotting over to the comtesse. ‘Will there be cakes?’
That lady bent to give him a hug, as if to subtly underscore to Elodie that he still belonged to her. Magnanimous in her happiness, Elodie didn’t even resent the gesture.
With the impatience of a little boy, Philippe wiggled free. ‘Will we leave now, Maman?’
‘No, Philippe. This kind lady is a … family connection. She’s visiting Paris and wanted to become acquainted with you.’
Philippe looked up at Elodie curiously. Recognition flickering in his eyes, he said, ‘I know you. You sold Jean an orange in the park, and you came to the nursery and looked at my soldiers.’
‘That’s right,’ Elodie said with a pang, wishing he could have remembered her as well after Vienna. ‘What a clever boy you are!’
‘This gown is prettier. Why were you selling oranges?’
‘I dressed up to play a game of pretend. You pretend, too, don’t you, when you play with your soldiers?’
He nodded. ‘I am a great general and win many battles. I have a tall black h
orse and a long, curved sword and I am brave and fierce, like my papa.’
Elodie’s eyes misted. ‘I am sure you will be just like your papa. He would be so proud of you.’
‘You said you would take me to see the parrots at the market. You said the birds had red and green and blue feathers. Can we go now? Maman, will you come, too?’
The comtesse wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘I do not wish to visit the bird market, Philippe.’
‘Please, Maman? I do so want to go!’
‘He seems to have a memory like a poacher’s trap now. How unfortunate he didn’t develop the skill earlier,’ Will murmured, echoing Elodie’s thoughts.
‘Please, Maman, let me go now!’ Philippe repeated, focusing with a child’s single-mindedness only on the part of the conversation which interested him.
‘I suppose, if you take Jean and Marie and don’t stay long, you may go,’ the comtesse said.
‘Do let us go, then,’ Elodie said. Longing welling up in her for the touch of him, she held out her hand to the boy.
To her delight, Philippe put his small hand in hers. After closing her eyes briefly to savour the contact, she opened them to see Will smiling at her, love and gladness in his eyes. She mouthed a silent ‘thank you’.
‘What is your name? Can we not hurry? I know I shall like the red parrots best. Can I bring one home?’
Elodie laughed, revelling in the sorely missed sound of her son’s voice. ‘You may call me “Maman Elodie”. Yes, we will hurry. As for the red parrot, you must ask your Maman about that.’
‘Can I have a red parrot, Maman?’
‘Not today, Philippe. Perhaps the next time.’
As they nodded a goodbye to the comtesse, who watched them walk away, her expression sad but resigned, Philippe said, ‘Maman Elodie, would you like a red parrot?’
Elodie looked up at Will, and he groaned. ‘Somehow, I fear by the end of this excursion, I’m going to own a bird.’
Several hours later, having inspected all the colourful flock and narrowly avoided the purchase of the red parrot, they had returned a now-sleepy Philippe and his attendants to the Hôtel de la Rocherie. During the outing, Will had let Elodie take charge, following her indulgently as she wandered through the market hand in hand with Philippe, answering his volley of questions, even purchasing some sweets for him from a market vendor.
In the carriage on the way back to their lodgings, Elodie threw herself into his arms, so euphoric and brimming over with emotion, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or weep.
Hugging her tight, he said, ‘Was it all that you wished for, sweeting?’
‘Oh, my love, it was wonderful! The blessed angels must have been smiling on me the day you climbed up my balcony in Vienna! I still can scarcely believe you convinced the comtesse to agree to our arrangement—and, no, don’t tell me how you managed it. I will sleep better not knowing.’
‘My dear, your suspicions wound me,’ Will replied, grinning. ‘Sheer charm and persuasion, that was all.’
‘The charm of a rogue!’
‘A rogue whom you’ve bewitched completely.’
‘It is I who am bewitched.’ She looked at him wonderingly. ‘You arranged all of this for me, didn’t you? The mission, the railroads. You could have negotiated investments for your friend anywhere. But you chose Paris.’
He shrugged. ‘Paris held the key to your happiness.’
Awed at the magnitude of such selfless love, humbled to be its object, she said, ‘I can almost forgive St Arnaud for embroiling me in his scheme, for otherwise, I should never have met you. I thought it already a gift that you brought me from despair back to life. And now, you have given me back my soul. How can I ever repay you for such treasures?’
‘Hmm, let’s see,’ Will said, drawing her on to his lap. ‘You could give me a son, I suppose. You, Max, Caro, even the comtesse seem to think having one is so wonderful, it would be rather selfish to keep it all to yourself.’
She smiled, it occurring to her that the only thing as marvellous as having Philippe back in her life would be bearing another son—Will’s son.
‘Sharing that blessing with you, sweet Will, my husband, my life, would be my greatest pleasure.’ Framing his face in her hands, she leaned up to give him a kiss full of passion and promise.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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First published in Great Britain 2013
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited.
Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Janet Justiss 2013
eISBN: 978-1-472-00375-1
Table of Contents
Excerpt
About the Author
Title Page
Author Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Copyright