“What the?” Reid sputtered.
“Excusez-moi.” Mont Trignon flashed Reid an apologetic smile.
Reid scowled back, forcing Mont Trignon to stifle a laugh. Whatever did Angelina see in the brooding man? But more to the point, what could have happened in her young life to cause her to squirrel away her true affections?
Whatever it might be, had she turned her back on her country as well?
Chapter Thirteen
Alex lifted the heavy brass knocker on the front door of the Montgomery mansion. The dull clank as it fell against the plate jarred her frazzled nerves.
Mont Trignon had sent a cryptic note to the tavern, asking Alex to meet him at eleven o’clock at the mansion. The note had been scribbled in block letters, as though penned in a hurry. She hoped his haste didn’t signify a cause for concern.
Stomach churning, she shoved the preparation for the noon time crowd into Molly’s capable hands, rushed home to throw on her best, if somewhat faded, blue muslin dress, brushed her hair and then refastened it in a knot at the nape of her neck. The church bells proclaimed eleven as she hopped off the last of the steps in the front of her house.
She considered hiring a coach with the bit of money she carried for emergencies, but a brisk walk would have her at the mansion in less time than it would take to find a coach for hire in her impoverished neighborhood.
Resigned to walking, she did it with as much dignity as lack of time would allow, with her handkerchief blotting at the beads of perspiration forming on her face.
By the time she reached the Montgomery mansion, her lungs burned, and she knew she hadn’t been able to avoid the ruddy glow that came with intense exertion.
The butler permitted her entrance with a small sniff of disapproval. Alex wondered if it were her appearance or her presence the man found objectionable. Perhaps both.
As she waited for him to announce her arrival, she smoothed strands of hair blown loose from her chignon. Then, with the sleeve of her dress, she wiped away a drop of sweat tickling her temple.
She must look a fright. Thankfully, it was only Mont Trignon she had come to see and not Mrs. Montgomery. She supposed she should feel just as mortified at having Mont Trignon see her in such disarray, but he had seen her looking far worse at the end of a long day, and she had never glimpsed a hint of disapproval in his eyes.
Speaking of disapproval.
The butler returned to the foyer. “Mrs. Montgomery would have you wait in the parlor.”
His voice implied condemnation, as did his cloudy, close-set eyes. He gave her a dismissive glance before turning to lead the way.
Alex had the childish impulse to stick her tongue out at the curved spine of the retreating butler.
He led Alex to the same room off the spacious entryway where Mrs. Montgomery had held her tea party. It had been intimidating to be in the company of people most would consider her superiors, but with Marie at her side, her anxiety had melted away. Now the opulence of the empty parlor reminded her just how far she had strayed from her world.
Madam Montgomery would have you wait in the parlor. The man’s words sunk in as he closed the door with a purposeful click.
Alex whirled around. “But I am here to see the…” she started to say, but the man had already retreated to wherever butlers go when they are not being insufferable to unwelcome guests.
Alex glanced around, wondering if she should sit. Propriety demanded she stand until invited to sit. Even she knew that. Still, Mrs. Montgomery’s throne-like chair at the far end of the room made a tempting distraction.
She imagined Mrs. Montgomery’s face turning purple when she found a common tavern owner sitting in her chair. Alex held her hand over her mouth as a giggle bubbled up.
Alex shook off temptation and ran a hand along the back of the chair Marie had sat in, thinking of how much she missed her friend. She wished Marie could be by her side today. She could use her strength and her assurances.
Alex glanced up at a portrait of Mrs. Montgomery holding a small brown dog with long hair held back by a silly pink ribbon. Both Mrs. Montgomery and the dog looked down at her with disdain.
Her stomach clenched. Why had she been told to wait for Mrs. Montgomery instead of Mont Trignon? Did Mrs. Montgomery know she had snuck into her home to see him? Perhaps she had even been the one to report it. Or maybe she was angry charges hadn’t been brought. Had she learned of Mont Trignon’s note and decided to confront her first? If so, for what purpose? The questions were still churning when the door behind her opened.
“Ah, Alexandra,” Mrs. Montgomery said, gliding into the room.
Her gracious tone held only a trace of condescension, yet she regarded Alex with hard, speculative eyes. After a moment, she waved her fan at one of the upholstered, high-backed chairs, giving Alex leave to take a seat.
As she turned, Alex glimpsed a small frown settling at the edges of the woman’s thin lips. By the time she looked up again, it had vanished, and Mrs. Montgomery’s frosty smile had returned.
Mrs. Montgomery took her seat on the ornate chair with overstuffed blue velvet cushions and carved mahogany legs and arms. It looked more like a throne than ever, and the way the woman posed herself, one bejeweled hand grasping the clawed end of the armrest while the other wielded her silk fan like a scepter, enhanced the image. Alex swallowed the apprehension threatening to choke her.
“Shall I ring for some tea?” Mrs. Montgomery’s pale, blue-veined hand hovered over the silver bell at the table by her side.
Even though she could use a strong cup of tea, Alex sensed the offer had only been a formality.
“Oh, no thank you.” Alex held up a hand. “I don’t want to be any trouble. The chevalier requested I meet him here at eleven.”
She hoped mentioning her appointment with Mont Trignon would bring Mrs. Montgomery to her point and the interview to an end. An ornate cuckoo clock on the opposite wall showed half past the hour, and as a society matron devoted to proper form, Mrs. Montgomery would consider it rude to keep the man waiting.
Alex smiled to avoid smirking. The old crone had had no compunction about keeping her waiting, however.
Mrs. Montgomery’s frown tugged at the edges of her lips again. This time it stayed.
“Yes, well that is what I wish to speak to you about, my dear, Alexandra. I hope you will forgive me, but the chevalier did not summon you.” She leveled a look devoid of any pretense of polite formality. “I did.”
Alex’s smile froze on her lips.
“I felt it the surest way to be able to speak to you without another moment passing us by,” Mrs. Montgomery added, waving her fan as though she regretted the necessity of the deception.
Alex dug her nails into the palm of her hand, the sharp pain providing an outlet for the anger simmering inside her. She would not lose her composure in front of this viper. But inside, she seethed. How dare this woman impersonate Mont Trignon!
She kept her balled fists in her lap and fought to sound civil. “What did you wish to speak to me about, Mrs. Montgomery?”
“Oh, my dear Alexandra, I do not mean to censure you, but I hope you see the situation for what it is.”
“To what situation are you referring?” Alex asked, wondering by what right Mrs. Montgomery called her My dear, Alexandra. She had only met the woman once.
Mrs. Montgomery held a lace handkerchief to her lips as though the whole business were distasteful.
“I hate to say it, but I really must, for your sake.” She stifled a sob, but her faded blue eyes were bone dry. “Please understand I do not wish to speak ill of your dear parents. I hear they were good people, and I am sure they did their best with you. Still, they died when you were so young, and perhaps there are things they did not have a chance to explain before—” She waved her handkerchief in the air and gave a shuddering sigh.
“Mrs. Montgomery,” Alex said, between gritted teeth, “please tell me what you have to say, and be quick about it. I suspect the su
spense may be worse than the actual hearing.”
Mrs. Montgomery’s mask dropped like a stone, and she looked Alex straight in the eye. “You really must see no more of the chevalier.”
“I’m sorry?” Alex said, not quite sure she had heard right.
She had convinced herself Mrs. Montgomery would take her to task for breaking into her home, dancing around the supposed reason for the rendezvous. Instead, she headed right to the heart of the matter.
“I am sure even you can see you come from two different stations in life. If your mother were alive, I know she would agree with me. Young ladies should stick to…gentlemen for whom they are better suited.”
Alex caught her slight pause before the word gentlemen, as though Mrs. Montgomery doubted the appropriateness of the term for the men of Alex’s world. On behalf of lower born but honest and good men like her brother and the Bandys, Alex noted the insult and added it to the list of the woman’s offenses.
“Are you implying we are unsuitable because he is French and I am American?” Alex asked, feigning ignorance at the woman’s true meaning.
“I mean he is high-born and you are…”
“An American,” Alex finished for her.
“Well, yes, if you must put it that way.”
Alex refrained from pointing out Mrs. Montgomery was an American, too, so perhaps she had no business socializing with Mont Trignon either.
“But I’m afraid I still do not understand the problem, Mrs. Montgomery.” Alex set her arm on the cushioned armrest and tried not to drum her fingers on the mahogany scroll at its end.
“Ah, perhaps it is something you cannot see as easily as someone like myself. Of course, it is no fault of your own. Your upbringing simply didn’t prepare you for situations like this.”
Alex’s jaw ached from gritting her teeth. If this woman insulted her parents one more time, she might decide to beat her about the ears with the silk fan she fluttered in front of her face. Or maybe she would gag her with the lace handkerchief dangling from her sleeve.
“But my dear child, you cannot possibly think there is any future for you with the chevalier. I am certain he has the same passions as any young man,” she said, giving Alex a meaningful look, “but you can’t possibly think your midnight assignation held any significance.”
Alex longed to tell Mrs. Montgomery the chevalier’s passions, even those she imagined, were none of her business. But, unfortunately, the assignation of which she spoke had taken place under her roof, and she had every right to forbid Alex to set foot in her home.
If Alex didn’t mind her tongue, she ran the risk of getting Mont Trignon kicked out of his rooms; although she doubted Mrs. Montgomery would hold him accountable. The contempt in her words and her eyes made it clear she considered Alex responsible for any indiscretions.
“Alexandra!” a familiar voice said, from the entrance to the parlor.
Alex swiveled to the sound, but she had been so engrossed in formulating a cutting but clever reply to Mrs. Montgomery’s brazen insinuations it took her a moment to realize who had spoken.
Marie came forward. “I was just sharing tea and news of my nephew with the chevalier when I thought I heard your voice. Mont Trignon will be as delighted as I am you are here. Other than news of the marquis’s recovery, he has spoken of nothing but you since the moment I arrived.”
Marie drew Alex to her feet then turned toward Mrs. Montgomery. “I trust your interview is finished. I should like Alexandra to join us for tea upstairs if you do not mind.”
Without waiting for the matron’s permission, Marie clasped Alex’s arm in hers and swept her out of the room.
As they reached the bottom of the wide stairs, Alex tugged at Marie’s arm, stopping her in her tracks. Lifting her chin, she turned and regarded Mrs. Montgomery with cool eyes through the parlor door.
“Thank you for your kind advice, Madam. I shall give it the consideration it is due.”
Mrs. Montgomery’s jaw dropped just before she hid her expression behind the agitated flapping of her fan.
“Well played, chérie,” Marie whispered, as they climbed the stairs, arm in arm. “But now come with me. There is something I must show you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Marie drew Alex into Mont Trignon’s empty study and settled her on the misshapen couch. Then she stepped toward a crystal decanter filled with brandy sitting on a sideboard. She overturned a couple of snifters and poured two generous servings.
“Where is Mont Trignon?” Alex asked, glancing about the empty room.
“He will be here shortly, chérie.” Marie handed her a glass of brandy. She smiled her sympathy. “I thought something stronger than tea was in order.”
Alex accepted her glass and took a small sip while Marie seated herself at the desk.
“I believe I may hate that woman,” Alex said, staring into her glass.
She cringed at the uncharitable thought but was glad she had a friend in whom she could confide.
Marie laughed. “I can well believe that.”
“But do you know what I hate most?” Alex asked before taking another sip.
Marie sipped her own brandy, waiting for Alex to continue.
“I hate that she’s right.” Alex looked up. “How much of the conversation did you hear, Marie?”
“I heard her warning you not to settle your affections on the chevalier,” she said. “I take it you agree with her?”
“Of course I do,” Alex muttered, looking at her reflection in her glass. “I have no business with Mont Trignon. She knows it. I know it. And I am certain he knows it. When I received the summons, I believed he meant to talk me out of any expectations I might have.”
Marie set her glass on the desk. “Has he said anything to make you believe he dislikes you?”
Alex shook her head. “No, not at all. He is a gentleman at all times, and he would not cut me so directly.” She took another sip. “But I think, as appealing as I find him, his good manners are just who he is. It doesn’t mean anything.” She frowned. “I’m sure he’s like that with all women, and it’s my misfortune I am not used to it. It’s very easy for someone like me to read more into it than there is.”
“I am certain he finds you special,” Marie said, her voice low.
“Marie, I know you said you were well-acquainted, but I don’t think you know him as well as I do. Or perhaps, dear friend that you are, you believe me to be more than I am.”
Marie drained her glass and then moved to a mirror hanging over a small table against the opposite wall.
“Tell me. When he discovered you here the other night, did anything happen between you?” she asked, peeling a heart-shaped patch from her cheek.
“He told you about that?” Alex’s eyebrows rose in alarm.
“Mmmm,” Marie murmured. “I have heard things.”
“No, nothing happened,” Alex stammered, wincing at the lie and wondering just what kinds of rumors had reached her friend’s ears.
Marie fixed Alex with questioning eyes through the reflection of the mirror.
“I can’t lie to you, can I?” Alex gave a resigned laugh. “Very well then. Here’s the truth.” She swallowed. “I kissed him.”
She had also interrupted his bath, but the kiss was scandalous enough.
Marie turned to her with a crooked grin. “You kissed him?”
“I know it must be truly shocking, but yes I did.” Alex rose to her feet, set her half-empty glass on the desk beside Marie’s, and paced in front of the unlit hearth. “I wouldn’t blame you if you severed all ties to me and threw me back onto the street.”
Marie chuckled as she unpinned her hairpiece.
“Whatever are you doing?” Alex asked, stopping and regarding her friend, her brows knit in confusion.
“Getting comfortable,” Marie answered. Her smile reflected in the mirror. “Did you enjoy the kiss, Alexandra?”
“Do you now hate me?” Alex asked, ignoring Marie’s question, not
ready to admit kissing Mont Trignon had awakened desires she had never known.
Marie arched an eyebrow and ran her long fingers through her hair. “Whatever for?”
“For being so bold as to kiss a man so far above my station in life I ought not even converse with him.” Alex renewed her pacing, her hands clasped in front of her.
Marie pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped at her face. Smudges of dusting powder came away on the fine white linen.
“That is ridiculous.” Her tone sounded angry, but she kept her back to Alex. “Tell me, did he kiss you back?”
“He did,” Alex admitted.
Her toes curled within her boots as she recalled the taste of her tavern’s ale on his tongue and the press of his hard body against her.
“Tell me, do you think he enjoyed it?” Marie asked.
She bowed her head so Alex could no longer see her reflection. Her fingertips resting against the surface of the side table, she awaited Alex’s response.
“I believe he did,” Alex whispered.
At least she thought he did. She recalled his moan as he pulled away.
Doubts crept into her mind as she relived the memory. Perhaps the moan hadn’t been the sound of pleasure but of regret. Did he fear she might expect more from him because of a simple kiss?
Alex strode to the desk, tossed back the last of her brandy, and shuddered. How could she have been such a fool?
Marie removed her shawl and set her nimble fingers to work on the stomacher covering the front of her gown.
“Marie, are you well?” Alex asked, looking up as Marie set the garment on the side table.
Next, Marie shed her fichu and added it to the pile. Then she unpinned her over gown and let it drop from her shoulders into a puddle on the floor so she stood before Alex in nothing more than her stays and petticoats.
Alex dropped the brandy snifter she held in her hand, and it bounced off the edge of the desk, shattering before it hit the thick carpet.
Marie’s chest, flat as a child’s despite the tightness of her lacings, reflected in the mirror. Alex watched in fascinated horror as she undid the laces and let her stays drop. Next she untied her petticoats and let them sink in a cluster about her feet. Then she removed her shift, baring a broad chest covered in golden curls, trailing across a well-muscled stomach until they disappeared in a fine line beneath the waistband of a pair of breeches.
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