I will not draw you again.
Ever.
Ever ever ever.
To scrub him from her vision, consign him to hell, she strode back to her desk and yanked the drawer wider. There lay her other sketch books. There. There were the good ones, the new ones. Visions of Andre.
She opened one, riffled the pages, flipped to the recent pages and grinned. She did have him to rights. Here was heroic Andre. Andre, the gentleman. Andre, the artist. Andre, her lover. Except for a little more hollow to his cheeks, a few more emphatic shadings of his nose—his hawlike Gallic nose. Caught by memory of how he’d regarded her last night, she grabbed a stick of graphite and shaded his jaw the way it ought to be. Corrected the arch of his brow. The admiration shining in his eyes. She sat down on her chaise longue and refined the portrait of the man she’d always thought was perfection in the flesh.
Two hours later, that’s where her maid found her. Dressed in last evening’s attire, sketch pad and graphite in hand, sound asleep in her chair, the drawings of Andre all around her.
“Pardon, Madame,” her maid said, awakening her and dropping a small curtsy. “I did not want to disturb you.”
“No apology is necessary.” She was refreshed, her husband gone as he should be, and would now forever be.
“Would you like a bath, perhaps?”
“Oui, merci beaucoup.” She would make nothing of the woman’s discovery of her in her day dress, from the night before. “And then I’ll dress for breakfast.”
“Were you out late last night, Marianne?” Pierce stood at the sideboard, filling his plate with croissant, bacon and omelet. “You usually eat earlier.”
“Yes, very late.” She was caught off guard by his question, her fork halfway to her lips. Had Uncle Killian mentioned to Pierce her plans to meet Andre? “And you too.”
“As you can see. We weren’t the only ones.”
“Oh?” Her concern for her own reputation evaporated. Unless he referred to his father, she was at a loss.
“Ada came in late.” Pierce was a tall, dark elegant man with all his sire’s devil-may-care looks and ruthless ambition. At twenty-six years of age, he also possessed a keen devotion to his family. “Tipsy, if you ask me.”
Alarm rushed through her. “She was supposed to be with Ezzie Moore and Francine Lang last night.”
“Hmm. Yes, well.” He came round to sit opposite her. “They were at Ezzie’s house last night. Doesn’t mean they can’t get into her daddy’s stash of cognac. I asked Foster to ask the coachman. He confirms that’s where our man drove her and where he went to fetch her at eleven. He waited, however, more than an hour for her to emerge.”
“Not good of her to keep him out on the box like that.”
Pierce met Marianne’s gaze, anger mixed with concern. “I haven’t seen Papa yet this morning but I plan to tell him. I’ve got a meeting or I’d give her what-for myself. But Ada should have more care for those who care for her. Especially our own servants.”
“I agree. I’ll speak with her.”
He tucked back into his eggs. “Where’s Chaumont lately?”
“She’s been ill.”
Pierce shook his head. “Must be a terrible malady. It’s been weeks since we’ve seen her. Don’t you think?”
“I’ve been worried and sent a few notes over to her, but she says she’ll soon be up to par and be ready to join us for our trip to Cherbourg.” Uncle Killian had decided that all of them would adjourn to the seaside resort on the western coast. They’d leave at the end of the week. Most of his business associates were off themselves either to their country chateaux or to catch the breezes off the Atlantic. He thought it best to vacation, too. Conduct business nonetheless.
“Cherbourg,” Pierce sounded like he was mourning. “She’ll come too? I’m not happy about that.”
“Oh?”
He frowned and took a bite of his omelet.
“Why?”
When he rolled his eyes, she had to chuckle.
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me she likes you, Pierce.”
He squinted. “Shall we say, a lot?”
Marianne laughed at his challenge to disenchant the lady. But she pitied the woman. Poor Chaumont, she’d tried to entice Andre with her charms and failed. “She’s a widow.”
“As she is fond of telling me.”
“And she’s lonely.”
He locked his gaze on hers. “How very lonely she is. And so grateful to all of us for giving her a position which is respectable. She wants me to know that her home is always open to me. Day or night.”
Marianne giggled, a napkin to her mouth. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes! She’d like to show me her chateau. A day’s ride, merely that, no less. And a lovely bit of stone, from the eleventh century when a tyrant named Folk Black raided and murdered his rivals. Butchered them, she told me happily.”
Marianne cringed. “Folk Black?”
Pierce feigned amusement. “Oh, you know me. Awful French. That’s what it sounded like.”
“His name—” announced Ada as she waltzed into the breakfast room like a queen, “—was Fulk Nerra. Fulk the Black. And he built fortifications that became lovely chateaux. We should be grateful to him. He unified the nobles of the Loire valley, preserved the chenin blanc grape and founded a few ecole.”
“And what in heaven is an ecole?” Pierce was laughing.
“A school, my dear illiterate brother. A school.” She sat next to Marianne and the footman appeared beside her to pour her tea. She urged him away. “Coffee, please, Maurice. It’s a school, Pierce.”
“I’m impressed with your French, Ada,” Marianne told her cousin.
“I’ve been studying, you’ll be happy to note. I like Ezzie’s tutor better than my own.”
Pierce shot Marianne a look that spoke of danger.
“What’s her name?”
“He is Monsieur Durant. Bernard Durant.” Then Ada sighed, her lashes fluttering. “He’s easy to work with. His pronunciation is…”
“Yes?” prompted Pierce.
“So—I don’t know—understandable. He’s kind and knows Americans speak in different ways.”
Pierce stopped, his knife and fork to his plate, as he stared at his sister. “Handsome, I guess.”
“Ohhh,” Ada gushed. “Blond and tall, refined.”
Pierce pursed his mouth and returned to his eggs.
“Oh! You see! Not a nincompoop like you.” Ada stuck her tongue out at him.
Pierce sighed.
“You must meet him.” This was directed at Marianne. “I want Madame le Comtesse to meet him, too. I know you will like him.”
No one responded to her.
She huffed and pouted. “What’s wrong with you two this morning?”
“Nothing,” Pierce said.
But Marianne perceived there was indeed something amiss. “Why should the Comtesse and I meet Ezzie Moore’s French teacher, Ada?”
She turned to Marianne full on and with her crystal blue eyes brimming with expectation, said, “I want him to become my teacher.”
“I see.” But what Marianne heard was that this tutor had more assets than his refined good looks and unusual ability to influence Ada to learn more French.
“Do you have his card?”
“I—what? Yes, his card. I do.”
“Give it to me after breakfast. I will speak to him today.”
“You will?”
Marianne tried to sound practical. “Why not?”
Ada’s mouth hung open. And try as she might, she couldn’t seem to close it. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Chaumont and I have to meet him, don’t we?”
“Well, yes, you do. But today?”
The way she pronounced the last word put Marianne on guard. “Today is the best day.”
“Action,” Pierce said and sipped his coffee. “Best course.”
“But today I’m to go to Ezzie’s to finalize plans for her excursion t
o Rheims. You remember? We told you. At the cafe? Yesterday?”
Marianne did recall. “You can go to Ezzie’s. You should not be here for my interview of Monsieur Durant.”
“But I want to be.”
“Why?” Marianne put her fork to her plate. “Can he not speak for himself?”
“Yes. Certainly. I only thought that…I could, well,” she stopped to clear her throat, “introduce you.”
“Thank you. If he can arrive before you must leave, do that. But if he must come later, then I will muddle through myself. No matter what time he arrives though, you can go on to Ezzie’s as you planned.”
“But—” Ada was exasperated.
So was Marianne. “I want you to go. I’d think you have a lot of planning to do. The cathedral deserves your attention. I must confess, I’m curious though. Why did Ezzie choose to go there?”
“The Rose Windows. She wanted to see them. And now that I’ve read about them, I know they are absolutely ancient. Don’t you think it amazing that people seven hundred years ago had the ability to construct such large buildings and tinted glass?”
Marianne marveled at Ada’s new interests, the tutor and the trip. She picked up her fork again. “You like the idea of the excursion. That’s a change of heart for you.”
Ada nodded, pleased at the compliment. “I admit, though I’m sure you’ll both gloat, that it’s useful to speak good French and have a sound understanding of French history.”
“Pardon me while I fall off my chair,” Pierce said.
“Oh, pooh, Pierce. You’d never believe I could have half a brain in my head.”
“I’d love to try,” Pierce said. “And you’d benefit. When you return from absorbing all that fine culture, I’d like to hear your assessment of it.”
“Why?” Ada wrinkled her nose. “Do you want to put a new water system under the church?”
“You never know,” he said. “Everyone needs water.”
Ada rolled her eyes. “All you think of is making money.”
Pierce’s expression drained to a stark somberness. “I wish you were right.”
Surprised at his turn of emotion, Ada startled and presently directed her attention to her coffee.
Marianne had not seen much of Pierce these past few weeks since they’d arrived back in Paris. He’d thrown himself into his business ventures, securing funds for his public works ideas. If he still thought of Elanna Ash, who was now the married Countess of Carbury, he did not mention her name. But neither did he seem to take an interest in any of the French beauties who were pushed his way.
Ada sighed. “I wish you’d let me stay to introduce you, Marianne.”
She forced her attention to Ada. “Thank you, my dear. Please get me Monsieur’s card. I will send him a note and we shall see if he can arrive early. If not, do go to your planning for your trip.”
“But if you don’t like him—”
“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t?” she asked her.
“No. He’s perfectly respectable. A gentleman.”
“Well, then. If having a different instructor has brought about your new interest in learning French, I will give him my fullest consideration.” If he looks like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, then in short order, he will be shown the street.
“Monsieur Durant, welcome.” Marianne welcomed the slender young man with a polite smile and indicated the settee opposite her. “You may leave us, Foster,” she told the butler.
“Merci beaucoup, Madame Roland.” Bernard Durant was blond and tall, with bulbous brown eyes and the sinuous movements of an egret, bowing his head and sitting gracefully upon the red damask. “I am honored to be asked to call.”
Call? No. This is no call. “My cousin, Miss Ada Hanniford speaks well of you, Monsieur.”
“I have met her at her friend’s home. She is a lovely girl.”
“Thank you. I understand you met her in your capacity as tutor to Miss Esmerelda Moore.”
“I did.” He folded his long thin fingers together, his knuckles growing white with the pressure of his grip. “They are both excellent students.”
Never had any of Ada’s teachers said she was that. Flighty. Gossipy. Irreverent. Funny. Her most spectacular quality, her loyalty to her friends.
“I’m pleased you think so, Monsieur.” Marianne smiled at him to ease his tension. “Do please describe your credentials, sir.”
He launched into a well-rehearsed list of his schools, all Parisian, most names Marianne had heard of, culminating in the University of Paris. “And your decision to tutor young Americans comes from your love of language?”
“Oui, Madame. My teachers said I had a gift for it. I understand the formation of the tongue and lips, the functions of the muscles.”
“I see. And how is that, sir, that you know this?”
“I have worked with the deformed soldiers who live at the Invalides, Madame. I try to help them talk again. Many have suffered shock. They have a palsy of mind and heart. Two have partial tongues and lips. Bombs can do terrible things to a body. Even bullets can rip open a jaw, take the entire cheek, the muscles beneath are exposed and the question is how to surgically repair—”
She stared at him, her breath gone.
“Oh, forgive me, Madame. You grow pale.”
She clutched her hands together. “No, I am quite well.”
He frowned, unsure.
Such a raw description of the horrors visited upon soldiers she had not expected in this afternoon’s discussion. “That’s very noble work, Monsieur.”
“Madame, think of me differently, I beg you.”
“How do you mean?”
“I teach because I must earn my keep. I enjoy the challenge, but with Mademoiselle Moore, it is no burden. With your cousin, I would predict the same ease.”
“What will Mrs. Moore tell me of your work with her daughter?” Marianne tipped her head, the question quick and necessary.
“I do believe she is very happy with Miss Moore’s progress. She allows her to order for her in French when they go to a cafe.”
That was a point in his favor that Marianne could seek analysis from Ezzie’s mother. “With your work with Miss Moore and the veterans, have you time to teach my cousin?”
“Oui, Madame. I could insert her lessons into my days. No more than an hour each day is required to become expert.”
“I would demand a maid be present.”
“Of course, Madame. I would be happy to do so.”
He did not flinch at the prospect of a chaperone. “Very well. Let us begin in September.”
“Ah. Oui. You go to Cherbourg for the month.”
“We do, Monsieur. I will expect you here the second Monday in September at eleven o’clock. We will have you work with Miss Hanniford for a full four weeks and reassess her progress after that.”
“I would be most happy. Merci beaucoup.”
She stood.
He followed.
“At the end of each week you teach my cousin, please send an invoice for your services. I will give them to my uncle and his manager will promptly send you your fee. If at any point, should I not be pleased, I will terminate the lessons immediately, sir.”
“I agree. You should. Thank you, Madame. I am most pleased.”
So was she. He left her with an easier smile and a more graceful gait. Her instinct said he was no charlatan, no seducer of young women.
Her fears that Ada might be planning some antic dwindled. This man was as he said, a teacher, a technician. Charming too and for Ada, that was inducement to learn from him. All the better. But would he appeal as a lover?
Ada needed a man of discipline and drive. That was certain. She definitely needed a man whose looks arrested her. But she would never find appealing a man who was a scientist. A man devoted to the smallest fact, the finest tuning of a muscle or an engine. Monsieur Durant could teach Ada French, but that, Marianne was assured, was all he would do for her cousin.
“What time
shall I come back, Monsieur le duc?” Andre’s maid pushed grey hair from her forehead, bewildered, that for the second night in a row, he’d given her enough money to take lodging in the best hotel on the Butte.
“Seven, eight? Whatever suits you, Nanette.”
“Sir? I’m not ashamed that you have a mistress. I was kind to your last lady, wasn’t I?”
“Nanette, you were. I send you to the Hotel de Tertre not because you’ve lost your manners but because my visitor wishes no one to see her.”
The maid tipped her head and squinted at him. “She shouldn’t be ashamed of you, sir.”
Andre should have laughed at that. He couldn’t. “That’s not her challenge.”
“If you say so, sir. But I shouldn’t be accepting such gifts from you. You pay me well enough, sir, and I—”
He held up hand. “Merci, Nanette. If anything changes, I will be sure to end your nights with those soft sheets that someone else washes.”
She scoffed. “Your mother would be proud you take such care of your lady.”
My mother is furious that I have not yet married my lady. “Go! Enjoy yourself!”
He waved her off through the back garden gate toward the square, where musical notes from the violinists and guitarists floated down the hill toward him.
The clopping of a matched pair on the street had him racing for the front door. He arrived just in time to open it for her and take her up high in his arms.
She laughed, more joyous tonight and the sound reverberated through him like chimes on a summer breeze. “You got my note!”
“Valmont was happy to retrieve you at an earlier hour.”
“He likes his rest?”
“He likes his snifter of brandy.”
“Ah. Put me down, you brute. Save your strength for your marble.”
“You are a feather, Madame Roland.” To demonstrate he hoisted her high, his hands holding her above him, noting the leather folio in her hand, and then catching her over his shoulder. Like a caveman, he strolled with her along the hall and up the few steps to his atelier.
She giggled, then tickled his backside.
Daring Widow: Those Notorious Americans, Book 2 Page 16