Her face flushed a deep red. Sparks of indignation flickered in her dark eyes. He half-expected her to start disrobing and call his bluff.
Then the fires disappeared and her gaze turned cool.
She suddenly reminded him of her father. There was no reason why the hell that should bother him, but it always had, and he abruptly lost interest in the game he had initiated with her.
“I am twenty years old.”
She did not sound like someone who had just been outflanked. Her tone suggested that she had made some decision.
A tiny spike of caution stabbed him.
“Does Madame Leblanc know your true age?”
“She never asked my age when I came. I was small and unschooled and put with the youngest girls. However, she can count the years.”
“But she never raised the question of your future with me.”
“It was not in her interest to do so. You continued paying the fees. I progressed through the curriculum quicker than most. Three years ago I moved to the front of the schoolroom and began teaching what I had been taught.”
“Very convenient for Madame Leblanc. However, you also never raised the question. In fact, you have lied to me about it before, and just did again.”
“I have seen girls leave at eighteen. I did not think you would let me stay here if you knew I had come of age. So when you asked, I gave you the same age for several years before getting older again.”
She had been very clever, Daniel realized. More clever than one expected of a young girl.
He made the annual trips to this school with dark, soul-churning resentment. They served as sharp announcements of duties delayed and hungers unfed, of time passing and of quests unfulfilled. His responsibility here only reminded him that there would be no peace until he finished what he had started years ago. Even as he talked with her each year in this study, he blocked most of his mind to her.
She had seen his self-absorption as indifference and taken advantage of it.
She blushed prettily at her admission of guilt. “I apologize for the deception, but this is the only home I have known. I have friends here, and a family of sorts.”
Home. Family. A small, wistful smile accompanied those words.
She had been willing to take a whipping to keep what little she had of both those things.
He instantly wished that he had not let curiosity follow its course. Looking at her pretty face, he had forgotten whom he dealt with. For a few moments there he had been a man toying with an attractive woman and enjoying her dismay far too much.
“We will forget this conversation, mam’selle. You can indeed stay. We will say nothing about your true age, and I will continue sending the fees. In time, Madame Leblanc will probably begin compensating you for your duties and you will officially move to the front of the schoolroom.”
She strolled around the chamber, absently touching the glassed bookcase and the velvet prie-dieu. “It is tempting, I will not deny it. But the book . . . Madame Oiseau . . . It cannot be the same now. Sometimes events conspire to force one to do what should be done.” Her ambling brought her back to the desk. “No, it is long past time for me to leave here. I must ask for your help, however. Very little, I promise you. I am a good teacher in the subjects expected of a governess. If you could aid me in securing a position, I would be grateful.”
“I expect that is possible. I know some families in Paris who—”
“I would prefer London.”
She said it quickly and firmly enough that his instincts tightened.
How much did she remember?
“I think that I can get better terms in London,” she said. “They will think that I am French. That should count for something.”
They will think that I am French. Clearly she had remembered the basics.
“Paris would be easier.”
“It must be London. If you will not help me, I will manage on my own.”
He pictured her arriving in London unprotected and unsupervised. She would get into trouble immediately.
And get him into trouble eventually.
“I cannot permit that.”
“What you will permit is not of consequence, m’sieur. I am in this school by your charity, I know that. But I am of an age when I daresay that you have no further obligation to me, nor I to you. If events have forced courage on me, then I shall be courageous. I must find my life, and I intend to go to London.”
I must find my life. His caution sharpened to a sword’s edge.
As often happened, that produced a mental alertness that instantly clarified certain things. His mind neatly transformed an unexpected complication into an opportunity. One that might salve the hunger and finish the quest.
It stood facing him, waiting for his response. Proud. Determined. But not nearly so confident as she posed. Not nearly so brave.
Sometimes events conspire to force one to do what should be done.
How true.
How much did she remember? It would not matter. And if, as he suspected, she hoped to learn all of it, it would be over before she even came close. In the meantime he could keep an eye on her.
He studied her lithe frame and the body vaguely apparent beneath the sack. He pictured her in a pale gown of the latest fashion. Something both alluring and demure. Her hair up and a single, fine jewel at her neck, with those soulful eyes gazing out of her porcelain, unpainted face. Lovely, but young. Fresh and vulnerable, but not a silly schoolgirl.
Yes, she would do. Splendidly, in fact.
“I will speak with Madame Leblanc and explain that you will leave with me today. We will discuss the details of finding you a position when we get to Paris.”
Diane folded her few garments and stacked them in the valise that Monsieur St. John had sent up from his carriage. They were all too childish for a governess to wear. She would have to find some way to rectify that.
From the small drawer of her tiny writing table, she removed an English Bible. It was one of two remnants of her life before this school.
She thrust her hand to the far back of the drawer and grasped a wadded handkerchief. She let it unwrap and its contents fall onto the desk. A gold ring rolled and rolled before stopping, poised upright. A scrap of paper fluttered down beside it.
For several years she had worn the ring on her thumb every night when she went to sleep. Then the day had come when her tenuous hold on childhood memories failed, when they became fractured snippets of images and sensations. The ritual of putting on the ring no longer made sense and she had ceased doing so.
She did not have to read the words on the paper. They were from the Devil Man, the only note he had ever sent her. It had come with this ring one year on the feast of the Nativity, explaining that the ring had been her father’s and that he thought that she might like to have it. She doubted that he even remembered making the gesture.
It had been years ago. The second or third Nativity that she was here, perhaps. She couldn’t remember exactly.
She tucked the ring and note into the valise. She would have to ask Daniel St. John how he came to have it.
And her.
The door to her chamber opened and Madame Leblanc entered. She marched to the window and peered out with critical eyes. “Take your time. Let him wait.”
“If he waits too long he may leave without me.”
“He will not leave without you. Trust this old woman when she says that. I am not ignorant of the world, or of men.” She turned abruptly and pointed to the bed. “Sit.”
Diane sat obediently. Madame paced in front of her, shaking her head.
“Sometimes this happens. One of my orphans leaves to be a governess or to live with a relative, but I know that there is more. I can sense it. Holy Mother forgive me, I do not welcome giving the advice that I am about to impart, but I would fail in my duty to you if I did not.”
“There is no need, madame. Your training has been most thorough.”
“Not in this.” She cross
ed her arms over her substantial chest. “Property and jewels, secured to you. That is what you must demand. Legally secured, so there can be no misunderstanding.”
“He has no reason to be so generous.”
“He will have a reason. He has realized that you are of age . . . and that book. Now he thinks that you are amenable. . . . I should have considered that, but in my disappointment at your sin, I did not.”
“You distress yourself for nothing. He has agreed to help me find a position and I will be safe.”
“He intends to find you a position, Diane, but not the one that you think. He wants you for a mistress.” She looked down severely, but her expression instantly softened. “You look at me so blankly. You do not even know what that means, do you?”
She could believe that she looked blank, for she wasn’t very clear on what that meant, except that it was sinful.
“The book, Diane. The terrible images in the book. Those are the duties of a mistress, and with no benefit of marriage.”
The odd engravings flashed through her mind. She felt her face turn hot. “Surely you misunderstand.”
“I have over fifty years on this earth. I know a man’s sinful interest when I see it. Oh, his cool demeanor hides it better than most, but hear what I say to you now. You must protect your future. Property and jewels. Make him pay dearly for every liberty that you grant him.”
Diane wiped the pictures from her thoughts. Madame might have fifty years, but they had not been very worldly ones, and she always spoke badly of men. “I am sure that you are wrong.”
“He is rich. He will seduce you with luxuries and kindness, and then . . .”
Diane rose. “I thank you for your concern, but my association with Monsieur St. John will be brief.”
Madame helped buckle the valise. “Do not forget to say your prayers. Every night. Perhaps then, when the offer comes . . . Maybe.”
Diane lifted the valise. It wasn’t very heavy. All the same, carrying it out of this chamber would not be easy. Nor would leaving Madame, for all of her strictness.
“I thank you for your care, madame.”
Impulsively, the formidable woman enclosed her in an embrace.
She had never done that before. No one had, for as long as Diane could remember. It evoked ghostly sensations, however, of the security and comfort of other, long-ago embraces.
It took her breath away. The warmth and intimacy astonished her and moved her so much that her eyes teared. The human contact both salved the odd hollow that she carried in her heart and also made it ache.
The little cruelties over the years did not seem very important suddenly. Madame had been the closest thing to a mother.
The moment of tenderness made Diane brave. She turned her head and spoke in the older woman’s ear. “The book. I stole it from Madame Oiseau. She shows it to the girls.”
She broke away and turned to the door quickly, catching only a glimpse of Madame Leblanc’s shocked face.
Madame Oiseau waited for her down below. She slipped an arm around Diane’s waist and guided her to the door.
“I underestimated you.” She smiled slyly, as if they had suddenly become great friends. “Who could have guessed that such a shrewd mind worked beneath that demure manner. Well done, Diane.”
“I think that you overestimate me now.”
“Hardly. But you are too young to appreciate the victory waiting for you. Too ignorant to reap all that you can. You must write to me for advice. We can help each other and grow rich from your cleverness.”
“I do not want your help.”
“Still proud. Too proud for an orphan with no past. Much too proud for the bourgeois merchants and lawyers to whom most of the others have gone.”
They passed out to the portico. A crisp wind fluttered the edges of their muslin caps.
Daniel St. John lounged against the side of the carriage, his eyes fixed on the ground.
Madame cocked her head. “An exciting man. Maybe a dangerous one. Not born to wealth. Beneath his elegant and cool manner there is too much brooding vitality for that. He has managed to be accepted into the best circles, however. The women would permit it, to keep him nearby, and even the men would be intrigued.” Her eyes narrowed. “Make him wait.”
First Madame Leblanc and now Madame Oiseau. “Since I am already out the door, it is too late to try and do that now.”
Madame laughed. It brought those devil eyes up, and on them.
“Perhaps you do not need much advice,” Madame mused. “Your ignorance will deal with him just as well.”
A gesture from Daniel sent a footman over to take the valise. Madame retreated to the door. “Remember what I have said. Write to me.”
The footman opened the coach door. Daniel held out his arm, to usher her in. He did not appear too dangerous. Actually, right now, with the breeze tousling his short, dark locks, he looked rather young, and almost friendly.
Who am I? How did I come to be here? Where is my family?
Down the three stone steps she trod, her heart pounding with trepidation. She walked across the only solid earth she knew, toward a sea of uncertainty.
The Devil Man waited for her to join him there.
chapter 3
The Parisian town house should have surprised her more. That was Diane’s first reaction on seeing its buff stone facade and elegant pilasters, so different from the rough, cold, limestone pile of the school. She should have been overwhelmed. Instead she found it oddly comforting.
Perhaps that was because arriving at its door meant that she no longer had to share a carriage with Daniel St. John.
It had been a long, silent journey. He had initiated very little conversation and she had been too nervous to ask any questions. Most of the time his sharp gaze stared at the passing countryside, his mind clearly working at something.
Several times she looked over to find him watching her in a way that made her wonder if his distraction had to do with her. The carriage would suddenly seem very small during those inspections. Worse, she found it impossible to look away. He probably had thought her bold to observe him as frankly as he did her.
The house nestled between others equally restrained and delicate in their classical style. The whole street was lined with such buildings. The whole district was.
Daniel gathered together some papers he had sporadically perused, and stuffed them back into a portfolio. Her glance caught sight of a familiar, thin red binding beneath the stored sheets.
“You stole it.” Surprise made her blurt the words.
“An accusation of theft is a peculiar way to break your silence. Madame did not warn me that you were impertinent.”
“The silence has not only been on my part. You have said nothing to me since we left the school, either.”
“I have spent most of the journey trying to decide what to do with you.”
“You are going to find me a position as a governess. Remember?”
“Of course. A governess. Now, regarding your accusation, what have I stolen?”
She gestured to the portfolio. “The book. You still have it.”
“Ah, the book. It seems to have left the school with me. A fortuitous oversight, don’t you think? In time, I suspect that it would have disappeared from Madame Leblanc’s locked case and found its way back into that other one’s hands.”
“You did it to protect the other girls, you mean. That was very kind of you. I warned Madame Leblanc about Madame Oiseau, but I do not think that she will believe me.”
“Since Madame Oiseau has her ear now, she probably will not.”
“You should burn it. It has no value or use to anyone.”
“I am grateful for your instruction, but wonder if you have judged its value correctly.”
He slipped the thin volume out of the portfolio.
It appeared that he was going to open it, right in front of her.
“We have stopped, m’sieur. Shouldn’t we get out now?”
“In
a moment. We must decide the disposition of this book first,” he said. “The binding is the best leather. The engraved plates are tipped in. It is well made and not cheap. It is an error to say it has no value, I think.”
“I was not speaking of its binding and such, but the images.”
“It could be that some pages hold maps or poems, instead of erotic engravings. Burning it may be rash.” He opened the cover, to check.
The notion of perusing those pages, here, now, almost knee to knee in this carriage, horrified her. “I assure you that it contains only those images.”
“Really? How do you know that?”
She felt a flush slide over her face.
“To know for certain it only holds images, you would have had to page through every leaf before trying to throw it in the fire.” He looked up at her. “Did you?”
Her face scalded. She had paged every leaf, with a combination of curiosity and shock and appalled fascination.
“Did you?” he repeated.
“Of course not.”
He smiled that private smile. “That is a relief to hear. If you had, I might regret stopping that whipping back at the school.”
That only made her think of that whipping, and what he had seen. She suddenly remembered that one of the images contained a woman in a somewhat similar pose.
She wanted to sink through the floorboards. It did not help that he was watching her reaction with interest.
And that book . . . Now he thinks you are amenable.
Oh, dear.
Just then a footman opened the carriage door. Daniel stepped out and handed her down.
“I did not realize that Paris had such elegant rooming houses,” she said.
“It does, but this is not one of them. This is my home.” He began strolling to the house.
She looked up at the buff facade, and then at the Devil Man, and then to her valise being held by the footman. The suggestive talk about the book of engravings ran through her mind and collided with memories of Madame Leblanc’s warnings.
The Seducer Page 2