by Jenna Brandt
She let out the air she had been holding in and laughed. “I have to say, Eduard, you have a way with words.”
“That is not the only thing with which I have a way.”
Pierre, obviously overhearing their exchange, interjected, “Monsieur Voclain, I would appreciate you being respectable when you speak to Lady Margaret.”
Eduard shifted his gaze over to Pierre and asked nonchalantly, “What is it of your concern how I talk to her?”
“Let me rephrase. I think it best if you discontinue talking to her altogether. Lady Margaret does not need to be bothered by someone like you.”
Everyone around the table stopped talking and watched the confrontation between the two men.
“You do not even know me, so why would you think you have the right to comment on my character? Besides, Margaret does not seem to be complaining.”
“You imbecile, how dare you address her so informally.”
Shocked, Margaret covered her gaping mouth with her gloved hand. This happened every time a man showed any interest in her. She did not need him getting involved in her interactions all the time.
“Pierre, what has gotten into you? May I please speak with you privately?”
With a frown on his face, Pierre nodded in agreement. He came around to her side of the table, firmly grabbed her by the arm, and escorted her out into the hallway. Once away from prying ears, Margaret scolded, “What were you thinking, Pierre? The way you acted in there, people are going to think something is going on between us.”
Pierre looked at Margaret longingly. “Would that be so bad, Margaret? What if I told you I want there to be something going on between us?”
“But there cannot be. It would not work. We would not work.”
He stepped closer to her and affectionately said, “Why can it not work? I think we could be surprising together.”
She shook her head. “No, Pierre, you need to stop behaving like this. I am not yours.”
Seeming frustrated with her denial of their connection, Pierre pulled her into his arms. “That remains to be seen. In the meantime, I am going to show you there is something going on between us.” And with that, he dipped his head down and placed his lips upon hers.
The kiss was searing and made her quiver. She knew she should not be letting him do it because he was right about one thing—there was something going on between them. She had to stop it before it went any further. She pulled free from the kiss and pushed against his chest, saying resolutely, “That was a mistake.”
“It was not a mistake, Margaret. It was inevitable. We are inevitable.”
“You are wrong. I have to go. I cannot stay here any longer.”
Margaret turned away and hurried out of the café. The rush of cold air blew across her face as she found herself on the street. She realized that Pierre had sent their carriage away and it would be hours before it was back. It did not matter; she could walk to Parintene. She needed the time to clear her head anyway.
Disturbed by their encounter, she knew why they would not work. She needed a Christian husband, and she knew Pierre had no room for God in his life. She had made the mistake of falling for the wrong man before; she was not about to do it again.
Suddenly, she felt someone grab her from around the waist while a hand roughly covered her mouth. Margaret tried to scream, but it was muffled against the gloved hand that was pushed against her delicate skin.
“Be still, girl, and this will all be over quick,” said a gruff voice with a thick Irish accent.
The mugger was pulling her backwards into an alleyway where the darkness would cover all traces of them. Trepidation filled her and her body shuddered with terror. Trying to calm herself so she could find a way out of her perilous predicament, Margaret forced herself to focus on what was going on. What did this man want? She hoped it was only money.
“I am going to take my hand off your mouth, but if you scream, you’re going to regret it. Do you understand, missy?”
She vehemently nodded in agreement.
He removed his hand from her mouth, but before she could ask him what he wanted, he used his free hand to scan her body. She whimpered in protest but did not scream.
“Good girl. You stay still just like that.”
“What do you want?” Margaret asked in a whisper.
“My first inkling was whatever valuables you have, but after what I just felt, I think I may be taking some of your other goods as well.”
“Please, please, sir, my family is wealthy. I can get you whatever you want. Just let me go!”
“Ah, a noble lady. I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure.”
Margaret started to squirm, trying to break free. “I know people, important people who will have your hide if you hurt me.”
“They’re not here now, are they? You’d be smart not to make threats against me. But you can keep on struggling. I kinda like that.”
She froze, not wanting to make matters worse. What was she going to do?
Pray. It was all she could do. Please, God, please help me! I am so scared. I do not know what to do. I need you, Lord. Please, please send someone to help me!
From the edge of the street, she saw an approaching figure rush up to them, yelling, “Get your hands off the lady.”
Thank you, Lord. Thank you for hearing my prayers.
“Monsieur, you best be leaving. This isn’t any of your concern.”
“I think it is you who ought to be leaving before I yell for the police. I saw one just a moment ago.”
A look of fear crossed the mugger’s face before he said in insolence, “I bet you’re bluffing.”
“Am I? I would not take that bet if I were you.”
Margaret felt the hesitation in the man’s body; he waffled and then let her go.
“You’re one lucky girl.” The mugger took off down the alley and was gone within seconds.
She was shaking uncontrollably and leaned against the wall of the nearby building for support. A queasiness had formed in the pit of her stomach, and she felt like she might be sick. She crossed her arms around her body and whispered to the stranger who saved her, “Thank you, sir, for intervening.”
It was still dark where they were standing, and she could not make out any of the stranger’s features. “It was nothing. Anyone would have done the same.”
Margaret shook her head in protest. “No, not everyone. You saved my life.”
“What are you doing all alone out here? This is no place for a lady.”
“I got into a fight with a friend, and I left the dinner party we were attending. I am new to Paris and must have gotten lost. I am afraid I do not know where I am.”
“Can I be of assistance?”
“If you can point me in the right direction, I would greatly appreciate it.”
The cold was setting in and she shuddered. Noticing it, the stranger said, “Here, take my coat. You will catch your death with only that shawl around you.”
He placed the coat over her shoulders and gently guided her towards the street.
“My carriage is just around the corner. I had just finished negotiating some antiques at the store at the corner when I heard something from the alley. At first, I thought it was a rat, but something made me look into it further.”
Margaret knew it had been God. She prayed He would send someone and He did.
“I am grateful you followed your instincts.”
As they approached the streetlight, Margaret looked at the man who had rescued her. From his attire, he appeared to be wealthy, wearing a fitted charcoal grey suit and matching vest. He was pleasant-looking, but not in the traditional sense. His features leaned towards interesting instead of attractive with olive-colored skin, a long angular nose, and a distinct jawline. He wore his dark brown hair parted on the right side, which framed his deep grey eyes and thick eyebrows. Some would even say the gentleman was handsome, in a foreign sort of way.
“This is my carriage. May I take you h
ome?”
She hesitated for a moment, apprehensive of getting into a carriage with a stranger. He reached out his hand to her, but she did not take it.
“How ill-mannered of me. I should introduce myself. I am Lord Michel Robineau, the Marquis de Badour.”
Smiling at him, Margaret accepted his hand. “Under the circumstances, it is not your fault that we have not been properly introduced.”
“You have not given me your name.”
“Lady Margaret Wellesley, Countess of Renwick.”
“I really do think we should be getting you back to your residence. Where did you say you lived?”
But before she could answer the marquis, she heard Jackie say from behind, “There you are, Margaret. What are you doing all the way over here? We were looking everywhere for you. We were so worried.”
Margaret turned around to find Pierre and Jackie looking at them through their carriage window.
Taking in her disheveled appearance, Pierre asked, “What happened?”
“I will explain later. Can you please take me home?”
“Yes, of course, straightaway.”
Both Pierre and Jackie looked at the marquis in puzzlement but said nothing. As Margaret got into the carriage, she said to her rescuer, “Thank you again, my lord.”
“Good night, Lady Margaret."
Chapter 6
Margaret had watched all night as everyone around the marquis, many of whom she had previously met and knew to be titled and wealthy, fawned all over him and waited on his every word. She knew he had to be exceptionally powerful to elicit that type of attention. What surprised her was that he did not seem to be affected by it. It was almost as if he was not aware of his own influence on people. She liked that.
Margaret noted that beyond the obvious effect the marquis had on those around him, due to his prominence, he was also fashionable without being garish, wearing a black suit with a complementing vest and bow tie. But the most impressive part about him was that he did not present as being vain.
Next to him sat a younger man who was much more conspicuous in both dress and appearance. His attire was significantly flashier, and it was clear he wanted to be noticed. It was also obvious he was related to the man next to him, as their physical attributes were similar. The younger man seemed to enjoy the attention that the marquis brought to their opera box. The marquis had one of the best boxes in the theater, affording him and his guests privacy due to the enclosed sides, as well as a spectacular view from the front.
The young man flirted with the many women, married as well as unwed, who came through to introduce themselves. The marquis, on the other hand, although polite to everyone, did not demonstrate an interest in any of the women.
This made Margaret wonder about the availability of the marquis. Was he already spoken for, or did his tastes lie elsewhere? He acutely intrigued her ever since he’d rescued her two nights before. She found her thoughts drifting back to him and how he had made her feel safe when he took care of her during the attempted mugging. He was a curious combination of sincere and steadfast, and for the first time, she found herself contemplating the real possibility of finding a husband in France. The one question that remained was whether or not he was a Christian. She would have to inconspicuously do some digging to find out.
Lost in contemplation, Margaret did not realize that she had been blatantly staring at their box. The younger man looked over and gave a smug smile. Did he mistakenly think she was interested in him? Margaret blushed, embarrassed to be caught watching someone.
She averted her eyes and gathered her possessions. Abruptly, she stood up, ready to make a bolt for the exit.
Jackie looked over at Margaret, startled by her friend’s sudden movements. “What is going on, chéri?”
Glancing coyly at the box next to them, Margaret let out a sigh of relief. Both men were absent, most likely having left to go home since the opera had ended. She sat down and pulled out her fan from her clutch. She was flush from mortification and reflexively flicked her fan back and forth near her face.
Not happy with being ignored, Jackie elbowed the countess and asked again, with clear irritation in her voice, “You are making a scene, which is unlike you. What seems to be the predicament?”
Margaret whispered back, “I will tell you later, but I think it is time to leave, Jackie.”
“Sometimes you are so odd. I honestly do not know why I put up with you.”
Concerned with getting away without bumping into their neighbors, Margaret chose to disregard her friend’s comment. Besides, considering all the antics that Jackie pulled, she figured her breach in etiquette was far less humiliating than what Jackie did on a regular basis.
The two women got up from their seats and started to exit their opera box, but unexpectedly their path was blocked.
Margaret stiffened, holding her breath. Despite trying to mask her shock, her eyes grew round with astonishment. She regrettably recognized the arrogant owner of the smug smile staring back at her.
The young man moved forward into their box, forcing the women to quickly take several steps back.
“May I introduce myself? I am Lord Monte Robineau, brother to the Marquis de Badour.”
Jackie tilted her head to the side and stared at the man with a confused look on her face. Monte glanced from Jackie to Margaret with amusement. “I assumed from your companion’s apparent interest in our box that a proper introduction was in order. To satiate her curiosity, of course.”
Jerking her attention to the side, Jackie gave her friend a perplexed look.
Margaret lifted her chin in bravado. “I have not the faintest idea what you are referring to, sir.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Come now, it was quite clear you were taken with me. I thought the least I could do was come over here and make your imaginings come to life by letting you meet me.”
Narrowing her eyes in annoyance, Margaret said candidly, “I am not interested in you whatsoever.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he raised both eyebrows and nodded in realization. “So, it is the marquis who piqued your interest? Will surprises never cease? I suppose you will be wanting an introduction to him, then. I could make—”
Margaret cut him off. “That will not be necessary. You are mistaken… again.”
Apparently, Monte did not know that she had already made his brother’s acquaintance. Margaret pushed past him without making any eye contact.
She could hear Jackie behind her. “Pardon the countess. She is not feeling herself. We need to be going, but I hope we might have a chance to get better acquainted another time.”
“My, my, I did not see this on the horizon but find myself contemplating the possibilities.”
At Margaret’s quickened pace, she found herself out of hearing within seconds. Deciding she needed a moment to pull herself together, she headed for the powder room. She could not believe that he had the gall to come over and confront her. Although, from what she could make of the man, she could tell he liked keeping people off balance. She did not like that at all.
As she rounded the next corner in a rush, she accidently bumped into someone. Her clutch and fan tumbled from her hands onto the floor. Quickly, she bent down to gather her items, and after a few moments, noticed that there was a second set of hands helping her. She glanced up and froze in place.
This night could not get any worse. Of all the people to crash into, it had to be the Marquis de Badour. She could only hope that his brother had not told him that she had been staring at their box earlier.
“Excuse me, Lady Margaret. I did not see you coming around the corner.”
She tried to maintain an even voice while replying, “No, pardon me, my lord. It was my fault. I was not paying sufficient attention to where I was going.”
As they stood up, he seemed to be studying her. She had no idea what he was thinking, and she found it unnerving. Wanting to quickly get out of his presence, she said, “Thank you for y
our assistance. It was most appreciated.”
She moved past the marquis but stopped in her tracks when she heard him say, “Must you hurry off? I was hoping to elicit a few moments of your time.”
She turned around and stared at the man who had transfixed her thoughts the past couple of days. “What would you like to converse with me regarding, my lord?”
“I have to say, I am glad I elected to come tonight. I had almost decided against it. I think that would have been a mistake.”
Relaxing a bit, Margaret allowed herself to smile, realizing that she was glad he had come as well. “Are you not an admirer of the opera?”
“If I am honest, I am not the most social of people. I find the majority of these events to be most tedious.” He looked intently at her, adding, “Although, at the moment, I find myself becoming more and more an admirer of the opera.”
She returned his look with ease. “I am pleased you came this evening. I wanted to thank you again for the other night. If you had not arrived when you did, I am not sure what would have happened to me.”
“Lady Margaret, let us never speak of it again. The only good to come of it was, at least, I was able to meet you. I was wondering if I would be able to—”
Unexpectedly, Margaret felt a hand grip the bottom of her elbow. She turned her head to find Pierre standing next to her. “There you are, Margaret. I was finally able to get the matter resolved that took me away earlier this evening.”
With all that had happened, Margaret had completely forgotten that Pierre had left in the middle of the opera due to some business concerns.
“Pierre, I am surprised you came back, considering the opera already ended.”
Pointedly he looked at the Marquis. “I wanted to make sure you had an escort home, as I imagined my cousin might end up leaving you on your own.” He looked around and a scowl crossed his face. “It seems I was right to be concerned, as I do not see Jackie anywhere.”