pleased if you would stay here in France. The job I have for you would be much more profitable and well within your capabilities.'
Downright panic flashed across Lucy's face. The idea of working for Guy Chabrol day in and day out alarmed her more than anything she could think of. He made her feel strange just by being there. She hardly dared look at him unless he had goaded her into rage.
'I don't like you!' she blurted out immediately in a flare of honesty.
'That is of no importance,' he assured her, his dark eyes narrowed.
'Liking or not liking are unimportant in this job.'
'I wouldn't like being anywhere near you,' she persisted anxiously, ready to take to her heels.
'It would only be necessary for a little while.'
'I—I'm sorry, monsieur. I'm sure you're being kind,' Lucy gulped worriedly. 'Even so, I don't want to work for you, thank you.'
'It is not exactly work, mademoiselle.' He looked at her steadily, his glance moving over her rather frantic face. 'It would assure you a very bright future with no need whatever to be at the beck and call of your aunt, with no need to take any dull job for the rest of your life.'
That seemed to be a happy thought and Lucy looked at him with a mixture of suspicion and uncertainty. Being offered a job was the last thing she had expected, unless he was prepared to pay for the right to goad her?
'How long would it take?' she asked cautiously and he shrugged.
'One year, perhaps eighteen months. It is difficult to say.'
It didn't seem long and she knew almost certainly that her aunt had only brought her to France to be kind. It was charitable but, then again, she didn't like charity. She watched his haughty face for a minute and he seemed quite content to keep silent while she thought about it.
'What sort of work?' she enquired with the same caution, quite ready to say no speedily but a little dismayed when she compared being near this irritating, arrogant man and being back in the dull job she envisaged. She was somehow singingly alive here.
'As I have said, it is not exactly work.' He looked at her steadily. 'I want you to have a child. My child.'
CHAPTER FOUR
FOR a second Lucy was too stunned to react at all and then she felt panic-stricken, shocked and embarrassed all at once. The confusing feelings raced through her and mixed together leaving her speechless and pale, near horror on her face.
'Do not refuse out of hand,' the count rasped as he saw her looks. 'I would of course marry you before this event. Afterwards you would be free to return to England and divorce me. Even so, you would remain the Comtesse de Chauvrais. You would receive an allowance that would make you quite rich and give you independence. Even when you remarried, as the mother of my child the allowance would continue as would the title. I do not intend ever to marry in any serious capacity.'
Lucy didn't answer. She just jumped up and made for the door and safety as quickly as possible. Not quickly enough. He was there before her, his back to the door, his face very implacable.
'Please let me out.' Her voice shook. She was so shocked that she was trembling all over, her heart beating so heavily that she was sure he would actually see it.
'You are behaving in a very wild manner,' he said severely, looking down at her from his great height. 'I have made what I think is a very reasonable suggestion, one that will benefit both of us. The time needed is but a very small part of your life and thereafter you will be completely free. I propose to marry you openly and legitimately for all to see. Only you and 1 will know the true state of affairs. Later you may simply go, wealthy, titled and free for the rest of your life. I will have an heir and will have no need whatever to marry.'
'It's unthinkable!'
'Obviously it is not. I have thought it.'
'Look,' Lucy began carefully, convinced now that she was facing a lunatic, his behaviour explained. 'People don't do things like that.'
'How do you know, mademoiselle?' he asked with cold logic. 'They would not broadcast it about any more than we will.'
'People fall in love, get married and -'
'Fall out of love and get divorced,' he finished drily. 'It is the normal course of events as love does not exist and is merely a respectable word to cover desire. To all intents and purposes we will do exactly the same as others do: fall out of love and get divorced.'
'Look!' Lucy began again, her attempts to placate him fading fast.
'You and I dislike each other, and rightly so!'
'What do you mean, mademoiselle—"rightly so"? What is so right about it? I do not dislike you. I find your strange ways quite fascinating. During the course of this brief marriage I will be constantly amused by your peculiarities. When you are pregnant I will take steps to see to it that you do not either climb walls or fall over.'
'Have you quite finished?' Lucy seethed, realising now that this had been his way of passing a dull afternoon.
'Not exactly,' he murmured. 'When I kissed you before I did not find you repulsive and that convinced me that you would do very well for a temporary wife. You are fresh and innocent and that is also suitable. I would not like a woman well versed in the ways of men to be the mother of my child.'
'You've missed out one small detail,' Lucy snapped, red-faced but now furious. 'I find you repulsive!'
'Let us see,' he mused quietly as he pulled her forward and into his arms.
He was kissing her before she could draw breath and her struggles and panic did nothing to deter him. As she subsided he drew her even closer, his hands expertly coaxing her until she was resting against him with all thought of fight gone, hazy mists and lights swinging through her head, feelings driving away common sense.
'Repulsive?' he enquired wryly as his lips left hers and moved to her neck and her ears. 'With your eyes closed and your lips beneath mine, Lucinda, you forget to be repulsed.'
'I'm not Lucinda,' she managed in a whisper. 'I've always been called Lucy. Only my aunt -'
'It is not a suitable name for a countess,' he whispered back mockingly, his lips close to her ear. 'Think of it! Lucy, Comtesse de Chauvrais. It does not carry enough dignity.'
The quiet sarcasm brought Lucy to her senses rapidly and she struggled free.
'It won't need to! I haven't any dignity either, so obviously the idea is idiotic. Get yourself a dignified woman. What about Madame Gatien? She has the dignity of a cobra!'
'And a matching skin,' he added, grinning down at her, sparks of genuine amusement in his dark eyes. 'I have picked you, Lucinda.
This is no spur of the moment idea. I have been toying with it for some time. When I saw you at the hotel in Paris I chose you; that is one of the reasons why your aunt is allowed here.'
'One of the reasons?' Lucy asked quickly, intrigued by his behaviour as she had no intention of it concerning her. 'What are the other reasons?'
'Agree to have my child and I might very well tell you,' he countered quickly, his lips quirking at her speedy change from rage to suspicion. 'The only other way you will find out may perhaps be somewhat painful.'
'I'll have to risk it,' Lucy snapped. 'And now, if you don't mind, I would like to go.'
'Mais certainement, mademoiselle,' he said mockingly. 'I will speak of this again.'
'Whenever you like,' Lucy agreed as she moved to the now open door. 'Just see to it, though, monsieur, that you don't speak of it to me.'
Once the door was closed behind her she literally fled to her room.
She was now, after several days here, able to find her way to her room with no difficulty, but, in any case, right at this moment she didn't care, just as long as Guy Chabrol couldn't find her.
She sank down at the side of the bed and tried to unscramble her mind. He was mad. He had to be. It must be something about his aristocratic breeding. She would ask her aunt to send her back to England and if necessary she would tell her the whole story.
She gave a shudder when she thought of herself in the count's arms.
He made her forget everything. He had made her forget everything when he had kissed her in the stables. The crackle of the fire drew her attention. It was already alight and blazing cheerfully. Had this been one of his tricks to soften her up? No! He was just amusing himself.
The thought made her feel better. She would not mention a word of this to her aunt. By dinnertime he would have found something else to occupy his mind. Maybe he would shoot one of the servants for amusement. It didn't seem at all unlikely with the great daunting
chateau around her, the long dark passages, the sullen faces of the staff.
She locked the door securely and went to get a bath. If her aunt wanted her she would just have to manage. Nothing would get her down those stairs until dinnertime when the count's stepmother would be there too. She was disapproving, annoyed, and barely civil but at least she wasn't stark raving mad!
Dinner merely proved to be an added embarrassment. Lucy waited and waited in her room until she was late and her arrival in the dining-room was less than elegant; in fact she almost skidded in at the very last moment just as they were about to be seated.
It appeared to cause a great deal of aloof surprise in Veronique Chabrol and even more in the butler and maid who were standing by to serve the meal. Her aunt looked at her in surprise and Lucy dared not even meet the eyes of the count—she knew how he would look and what he would say given the chance.
He surprised her.
'Good. You have arrived. I was about to send someone to fetch you,
mademoiselle.'
He came around and helped her to her seat, smiling down at her with no sign of his caustic humour. Her aunt took over the conversation at once as usual and it only drew more attention to Lucy, a thing she wished to avoid at all costs.
'Where on earth were you this afternoon, Lucinda?' Wanda asked as they all settled down. 'You disappeared for simply hours.'
'Lucinda was with me, madame,' the count interposed smoothly before Lucy could even look up. 'You have perhaps forgotten? I did however ask your permission.'
Wanda looked astonished and the countess blinked rapidly at the sound of Lucy's name on her stepson's lips.
'Oh! Of course I remember, monsieur. I was a little worried, that's all, because you said for a moment only and she was away for a long time. I assumed that Lucinda had disappeared outside. It worries me.'
'She was with me for some considerable time,' Guy Chabrol assured her. 'Also when she is out of doors I am usually with her. There is no need to worry about her safety.'
It gave her aunt pause for thought, apparently, and it also drew further attention to Lucy's red cheeks. And it wasn't true anyway; she wasn't usually with him outside—she deeply regretted that she had ever seen him outside! Everybody seemed to be staring at her and she couldn't manage even a quick glare at him. It turned out to be a very subdued meal with everyone stealing furtive looks at Lucy, and Guy looking at her steadily for the whole time.
After the meal Lucy escaped and Wanda came to her room.
'Just what exactly is going on between you and the count?' she wanted to know as soon as Lucy had let her in. 'It's perfectly dangerous to be meeting a man like that secretly. You've had very little experience of life, Lucinda, and he's a very sophisticated man.
He's not like any of the boys you've known at home.'
'I haven't been meeting the count,' Lucy protested. 'I don't even like him. It's just that -' She didn't get any further. Her aunt's eyes were on the glowing fire.
'He's ordering comforts for you that I haven't got. Do be sensible, Lucinda, dear. My room is like an icebox. He doesn't intend you to freeze, does he? A man like that doesn't do things for nothing. He's softening you up and I should think it's obvious what for.'
'I complained! That's why I've got the fire. He didn't light it himself,'
Lucy said, her cheeks very flushed. If her aunt knew what Guy Chabrol had suggested she would be having hysterics. 'I expect you could have a fire if you said you were cold.'
'I doubt it! In any case, I'm not at all bothered about that. I am bothered about you, though. You could be at some risk with that man. I've seen how he watches you and you're so—so unworldly.
I've been debating whether or not to send you back to England, actually.'
She couldn't have said anything to please Lucy more.
'Oh, I'd like that very much, if you don't need me,' Lucy told her eagerly, seeing a chance of getting away from here. 'When do you want me to go?'
'The sooner the better, I should think. I'll see what I can come up with. I know you've left your job to come with me but you can easily go back to my house. You could earn your keep. I've been thinking of sacking Mrs Brown. You could look after the house and do the cooking. It's quite expensive to pay a daily help and if you did it there would just be your keep and a bit of spending money.
You're a good cook.'
Lucy was suddenly looking at a grey picture of her future life, an unpaid servant to her aunt or a dull as ditchwater job. Guy Chabrol's offer came into her mind and she pulled herself up sharply as she actually found herself considering it. The whole future looked bleak, though.
'I can get a job by myself when I go back,' Lucy warned her aunt firmly.
'For goodness' sake, Lucinda, you're my niece! Whatever do you imagine you could do in any case? You're surely not thinking of going back to that dreary estate agent's? In any case, you have no home now. You know as well as I do that they're pulling the Old Mill down—should have been demolished years ago! No, you can live with me from now on. You can help me, run the house, type up my notes. It's going to be quite cosy. From time to time you can come back to France with me too, but, for now, I've got to get you away from the count!'
Wanda left with a satisfied smile and Lucy felt empty. For years she had managed everything for her mother and father, afraid to leave them in case they made such a muddle of their lives that she would never be able to straighten them out, taking a perfectly miserable job when she would have liked to spread her wings.
If she followed a similar path with her aunt she would end up as a prim old maid. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and hastily looked away. She had never even thought things like that before but now she remembered the excitement that had threatened to submerge her when Guy Chabrol held her and kissed her. She got ready for bed with troubled feelings. She would certainly get some job when she got back to England. She was wasting her life away and she had already wasted enough of it.
She was a trifle grim-faced the next morning, sorting out her aunt's haphazard notes as Wanda left the library muttering that she would not be long. Guy Chabrol walked in almost immediately but she resolutely kept her head down.
'During this day I will need an answer to my suggestion of yesterday,' he said softly, coming to lean against the desk and look
down at her. 'Avoiding my eyes is not going to make me change my mind. I am well aware that you are shy unless you are in a small rage. It is something that I can easily cope with.'
She didn't either answer or look up and he came closer, tilting her face and looking into her wide blue eyes.
'You have been thinking about it,' he murmured astutely, his gaze narrowed on her face. 'What is your decision?'
'No,' Lucy whispered and his lips twisted ruefully.
'Then we will have to come at this the hard way, mademoiselle,' he informed her quietly. 'It is a pity. 1 would have spared you if I could. I do not particularly want the mother of my child to be resentful.' He sighed and stroked one long finger down her flushed cheek and Lucy came to agitated life.
'I'm going back to England. My aunt wants me to leave very quickly.'
'Does she?' He was instantly alert, his eyes scanning her flushed face. 'When did she reach this decision?'
'Last night. I haven't told her about... She just wants me to go back and...' He just went on looking at her and she jumped up in agitation.
'There's nothing you can do...'
&nbs
p; 'We will see,' he mused, looking down at her intently. 'Marry me and I will spare you a lot of grief, a lot of unpleasantness.'
'No!' She was suddenly very scared and it showed on her face but she was also adamant. She wasn't as scared as she would be if she agreed to this unbelievable suggestion, and she was beginning to think he really meant it-
'Very well, Lucinda,' he said softly. 'Just remember later that this could all have been done in a civilised manner.'
'What are you going to do?' She looked up into his determined face.
He smiled mockingly.
'I am not going to carry you off and make up your mind for you if that is what is so worrying,' he assured her. 'I need to be legally married, my child the heir to my estate and title with no possibility of dispute. You may let wild thoughts die, mademoiselle. Our marriage will be legal and dry as dust.'
'It will also be a figment of your imagination,' Lucy informed him, her nerve somewhat restored.
'I intend it to happen. I have chosen you and I am not about to let the chance slip by and have to begin all over again. I am thirty-four. I lead a very busy life and I do not wish to become a father when I am in my dotage.
My son will have to be trained to inherit everything. I must get this duty over with and then I will be able to live my life as I choose, all responsibility ended.'
'You don't think a baby is a responsibility, then?' she enquired sarcastically. It only had his dark eyes narrowing further.
'Not to me, and not to you either if you agree, because you will be gone. You will be rich and titled with no further worries in your life.
My child will have everything in any case,' he added coldly.
'Except love, an emotion you don't believe in,' Lucy cut in. 'Some things can't be bought, monsieur.'
'And you are one of them, as I can see. You will change your mind, Lucinda, because I need you and I intend to settle my life, perhaps this very day.'
Lucy had no time to reply, because her aunt walked in, looking anxious when she saw the count with Lucy.
'Ah, madame. I have been waiting for you,' he announced. 'I need a certain book but I did not want to take it until I knew for sure that you were not using it for your research.'
The Gift of Loving Page 6