The Price of Innocence (The Legacy Series)

by Vicki Hopkins

  Suzette could tolerate her insolence no longer and started pushing Madame LeBlanc from the parlor. “Get out! Get out!” She sneered at her vehemently. “Get out now and don’t come back.”

  She pushed her out of the parlor, and Suzette followed her to the maid’s quarters. Madame LeBlanc quickly stuffed her belongings into her suitcase.

  “Gladly! I’ll leave gladly,” she muttered in haste.

  Suzette thought that she could kill the woman and tried desperately to calm her beating heart, afraid for her physical wellbeing. Finally, with her last dress crammed into her bag, she escorted Madame LeBlanc out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

  She fell to her knees and wailed uncontrollably, broken and abandoned by everyone until she passed out from exhaustion on the floor. Hours later, she opened her eyes to find herself curled up in a ball upon the rug near the door. Her head pounded, and her swollen eyelids hurt as she opened them. It was night, and the house was dark and quiet.

  Suzette grabbed the hall table and pulled herself to her feet and made her way down the dark hallway to the kitchen. After finding the matches by the stove, she lit an oil lamp on the table.

  A quick glance around the kitchen revealed a mess, and she cursed Madame LeBlanc for her laziness. Dirty dishes were stacked high and spoiled food lay upon china plates. She found the kettle to boil water for tea, and then rummaged around the breadbox until she found a piece of fresh pastry to stuff in her mouth.

  The quietness of her small cottage was deafening. She knew when Robert returned, he had to be told about the baby, but she feared the outcome. He might insist the child be put up for adoption or demand she see a doctor to do the unthinkable.

  She needed help, and there was only one place to turn, though she hesitated to do so. Suzette wandered into the parlor with her brewed cup of tea and sat at her writing desk. She rifled through the letters looking for Philippe’s address and then penned a letter of desperation.

  * * *

  Robert entered the restaurant and recognized the gentleman seated at a table near the window. He halted for a moment and pulled the gloves off his hands. He wondered if his suggested dining location was a bit too expensive for the man’s wallet. Nevertheless, if he wanted to meet, he certainly wasn’t about to lower his standards for a decent meal, while having an unpleasant conversation.

  He strolled up to the table and closely examined the Frenchman. Philippe stood to his feet and greeted him.

  “Lord Holland,” he said, bowing his head and looking up at his rival. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

  Robert looked at him with a contemptuous sigh and responded, “Yes, of course.” He made no deference in return or offers to shake the Frenchman’s hand. Robert merely pulled back a chair and sat down. The waiter arrived at the table, and he gave his order without looking at the menu.

  “I’ll have the roast duck and a cup of black tea.” He handed the menu back to the waiter.

  “Just coffee for me, I’m afraid. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

  Robert raised his brow at his refusal to eat. “Are you sure, man?” he asked curiously.

  “Yes, very sure,” he responded. “Just black coffee.”

  Robert shrugged his shoulders and leaned comfortably back in the chair. “So, you are Lieutenant Philippe Moreau, correct?”

  “Just Philippe Moreau,” he answered coldly. “I’ve resigned my commission.”

  “Ah, I see,” he replied. “And what is it that you wish to speak with me about?” After receiving a dark glare in return, he wasn’t surprised to hear the next words.

  “I wish to know your intentions with regard to Suzette Camille Rousseau.”

  Robert chuckled. “Camille,” he said with a smile. “I didn’t know that was her middle name. Yes, a virgin when I met her.” A look of possession filled Robert’s eyes as he dared the man across the table to lay any claim to what was rightfully his. “And what do you mean by intentions, pray tell?”

  The waiter arrived and placed the ordered tea and coffee before the guests. Robert immediately took a sip of the steaming brew.

  “Well, it’s quite obvious that you have no intentions of marrying her now that you’ve married Lady Spencer.” Philippe glanced at the wedding ring on his finger. “By the way, have you seen Suzette since your return from your honeymoon?”

  Robert shifted in the chair, irritated at the man’s brazenness. “And what is that to you?” he retorted. “That is a private matter.” He put the teacup back on the saucer, and then began his own interrogation.

  “I was under the impression that you and the Mademoiselle were merely old acquaintances, or at least that was what I was led to believe.”

  “Hardly,” Philippe spoke, leaning forward in his chair. “Suzette Camille Rousseau is my fiancée.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “At least she was before meeting you.”

  Robert’s brow rose, and he looked at the man seated across the table with an increased interest of disdain. “Fiancée? Well, that’s interesting.”

  “I want her back,” Philippe demanded. “You cannot make her an honorable woman through matrimony. You only wish to keep her as your mistress.”

  Robert recognized the look of disgust in his eyes, thinking the man a hypocrite himself. “You Frenchmen have your mistresses and brothels. Why are you so appalled that an Englishman wishes to keep one?” Robert took a breath before continuing to assert his rights. “Well, whatever claim you think you have on her, I’m afraid it’s too late, Monsieur. Suzette loves me and intends to stay with me.” His voice turned almost nonchalant in nature.

  “You seem sure of yourself, Lord Holland.”

  “She’s aware of my marriage, if that’s what you are wondering.”

  “Really?” Philippe doubted his response. “And have you discussed your future together?”

  “Her future is my future.”

  “Suzette merely feels indebted to you for saving her from the Chabanais. You seem to have failed to see the obvious, however.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “You’ve made her into your own private whore!” Philippe’s glare bore into his soul. “Let her go.”

  Robert felt as if a knife had been thrust into his heart. His adoration for Suzette was sincere, and he did love her in his own way. Perhaps in her foolishness, she wished for more, but he thought she understood the ways of entitlement. He spoke of it often enough—his family duties and even his father’s wishes for an heir.

  He sat pondering Philippe’s accusatory words. It was true that in his overzealousness to protect and care for her, he justified his actions. He was using her as his personal mistress, and it was abhorrently selfish indeed. He may have taken her virginity, but he had played upon her innocence in many other ways. She was a naïve young woman who trusted him implicitly and without question.

  He turned to Philippe to ask his intentions. “And if I part ways with Suzette, will you assure me as a man who keeps his word that you will not abandon her?”

  “I have no intentions of abandoning her, as I have every intention of marrying her.”

  Robert studied the sincerity of the man’s face, but there was still another matter to consider. “And what if I let her go and she still doesn’t marry you?”

  “I can assure you that will not be the case.”

  Surprised over his confident response, Robert wondered how often the two had been seeing each other during his absence. It was obvious that more was transpiring between them, and he felt slightly betrayed over Suzette not telling him of Philippe’s true identity and connection to her past. It seemed they both were playing a game of deception in order to keep one another. Robert hesitated, struggling over his strong affections for Suzette.

  “I am willing to fight for her honor, Lord Holland, if need be.” Philippe postured himself across the table.

  Robert raised a brow at the Frenchman’s audacity. “There’s no need to load your pistol,” he said,
picking up his cup of tea and taking a sip. “I’m a man of honor, whether you believe it or not. We need not kill each other to bring about the right course of action.”

  Robert slowly relented when he witnessed the look of determination and love in the Philippe’s eyes. The next few words ripped his heart in two.

  “I give you my word, Monsieur, upon my next visit to the Mademoiselle; I will do the honorable thing.”

  “Very well then. I’ll hold you to your word.” Philippe stood from the table, no longer wishing to spend any further time with Lord Holland.

  “I love her, you know.” Robert tenderly spoke the truth he needed to admit to himself. “I’ve grown to love her very much.”

  “Then you have done the right thing by laying down your wishes to give her the kind of life she deserves to live—one as an honorable woman.”

  Philippe turned and left Robert to survey the platter of duck that had arrived at his table. He picked up his fork, cut a small portion of the breast, and lifted the moist meat to his mouth savoring the taste.

  Robert enjoyed the duck, but found it difficult to swallow. His throat had closed from the painful realization over his impending loss of Suzette. Unsure what he would do without her, he shoved the morsel down his throat with a hard gulp. He poked his fork into another piece of meat, but he realized that he had suddenly lost his appetite.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A few days after his luncheon with Lord Holland, Philippe received a post from Suzette requesting that he come and visit her at the cottage. His immediate thought was that Robert had severed their relationship, so he gladly responded and arrived at her home just before noon the following day.

  Upon his arrival, Philippe knocked on the door but received no answer. After repeated knocks, he stepped away from the cottage and examined the windows. The curtains were drawn on the second floor, which Philippe assumed were bedrooms. He walked around the side of the house and noticed a window leading into what appeared to be a parlor. Lace paneled curtains covered the glass, but at least it afforded him partial view into the interior.

  He awkwardly squeezed behind a hedge against the cottage and placed his hands on the window, shading the sun from his vision, while he peered through the lace eyelets. It took a few moments before his vision adjusted to the filtering light. He glanced about the furniture but saw no one in a chair or standing nearby. Then, as he was about to pull away, he spotted Suzette on the floor. She was not moving and looked unconscious.

  He knocked frantically on the window calling out her name. The sound of his hand slapping the glass and his loud voice did nothing to arouse her dormant body. Frantic with fear, he pulled away and ran to the front door and tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

  Philippe glanced about the yard and found a sizeable stone from the walkway and threw it through the side panel window that ran the length of the doorframe. The glass shattered at the first blow, and Philippe carefully pulled the sharp pieces away until he could reach inside and unlatch the door handle.

  As soon as it unlocked, he flung the door open and ran into the parlor. To his shock, Suzette lay pale and lifeless. He turned her over and spotted blood on her skirt. He gathered her into his arms frantically trying to revive her back to life.

  “Suzette! Please . . . Suzette, wake up!”

  No response came. Philippe was beside himself. Her breathing was shallow. He picked up her limp body and carried her to his waiting carriage outside giving orders to the driver to speed into London and the nearest hospital.

  After an hour of pacing back and forth since his arrival, he grew sick with worry. Finally, a physician approached him in the waiting area to give him news of her condition. His face was laced with concerned, but Philippe saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

  “Your wife, I’m afraid, has spotted,” he stated solemnly.

  Philippe, unwilling to correct the doctor’s misconception that he was her husband, let him continue.

  “However, I’m happy to report there is no indication she has aborted the baby. I would recommend, however, that she be given extended bed rest until birth. Otherwise, I’m afraid she may lose the child.”

  “Pardon me?”

  Philippe’s stunned reaction drew a raised brow from the physician. “The baby,” the doctor repeated, not understanding Philippe’s surprise. “You didn’t know she was with child?”

  “No,” he answered, astonished. Philippe was beside himself. Suzette was carrying Lord Holland’s child! Relieved over her wellbeing, he attempted to deal with the shocking news.

  The doctor seemed a bit confused over the situation but continued with his report. “It appears she hasn’t eaten well or been drinking enough liquids. She’s dehydrated, and that is why she fainted.”

  “May I see her?”

  “Of course,” the doctor replied. “Follow me.”

  The physician led Philippe down a long tile corridor leading into a small patient ward. Upon seeing Suzette, he quickly stepped toward her bedside and took her hand into his, kissing it with his lips. It was stone cold.

  The physician gave further instructions. “I suggest that you allow her to rest as much as possible. When we are assured the bleeding has subsided, you may take her home. Make sure she eats and drinks plenty of liquids.”

  He nodded in compliance. Philippe watched the doctor leave the room and then turned to Suzette. “My God, Suzette, I thought I lost you.”

  Suzette turned away from Philippe and faced the wall. Her weak voice replied, “You should have let me die.”

  “Nonsense,” he protested. “Why, because you carry Robert’s child?”

  Suzette’s tears rolled profusely down her pale cheeks, and Philippe’s heart broke over her expression of shame.

  “I’m sorry, Suzette,” he said, stroking her hand gently. “Please don’t worry.”

  Suzette sobbed.

  “I’ll take care of you. Just get better . . . that’s all I ask.”

  “I’m afraid to tell him,” Suzette admitted. “He’ll want to send the baby away, won’t he, Philippe?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “He can’t marry you, Suzette.”

  “I’m well aware,” she said. “I had no idea I was pregnant when he married. If I had known, I would have told him. Perhaps things would be different.”

  Philippe doubted it, but didn’t wish to express his negative thoughts. “Rest now,” he said, stroking her hand. “Rest. Close your eyes and sleep, and when you awaken, we’ll talk. I’ll be here, Suzette. I won’t leave you or forsake you. I promise.”

  He bent near her cheek and dared to kiss her pale skin. Philippe received no complaint from Suzette and was thankful she allowed his lips to linger for a few moments without resistance. He let go of her hand, and then walked into the hallway. After finding a side door that led outdoors to the alleyway, he retreated into seclusion and wept.

  * * *

  Suzette regained her strength quickly and was sent home under the watchful care of her pseudo-husband. Philippe quickly procured a new housekeeper to watch and care for Suzette during his absence. Suzette approved of the middle-aged English woman, and they seemed to like each other far better than her former arrangement.

  On the third day after her return from the hospital, Robert made his final visit. Suzette had spent the past days mentally preparing for their meeting, as she had something to tell him that he needed to know.

  Upon his arrival, her housekeeper brought him into the parlor. Her eyes lifted to his tall stature standing in the doorway, and her heart broke at the sight of him.

  “Hello, Robert,” she said, greeting him warmly. “I’ve missed you.”

  Her words seemed to soften his stoic countenance, and he smiled in return. Surprised over the new housekeeper, he inquired. “What happened to Madame LeBlanc?”

  Suzette hesitated but told him the truth. “I fired her. The woman was incorrigible.”

  Robert didn’t argue the point. “You look
well, Suzette,” he said, drawing close to her. He stood for a moment looking fondly into her eyes. Then nearly choking over his words, he spoke. “We need to talk.”

  Suzette immediately interrupted him while he drew a breath. There was something to talk about, but it wasn’t his marriage, because that deed had already been done.

  “It’s fine, Robert. I’m happy that you are married, and I wish you all the happiness in the world. I’m sure that Lady Spencer is a fine match for you.”

  Robert was stunned at her admission. He found the words hard to believe.

  “Now, there is something I need to tell you.” Her eyes looked into the blue pools that she loved so dearly, and with a smile, she informed him of her recent decision. “You see, I have a confession to make. I’ve been a bit naughty while you were away for so long. I spent quite a bit of time with Philippe Moreau, and I . . . well, I have discovered that I still love him.” Suzette blushed at the boldface lie.

  “I’m leaving with Philippe for France at the end of the week.” Her voice resonated with certainty. “Philippe has asked me to marry him, and I’ve consented.” Suzette boldly kept her gaze upon Robert’s face, searching for any remorse over the news.

  “Oh? Is he going to marry you?” he said, acting surprised over her announcement.

  “Yes, he is.” Suzette inhaled deeply, attempting to sound convincing. “You see, Robert, I didn’t realize how much I still loved him until our paths crossed again. I was engaged to him, you know, before we met. When my father died, I had no way of telling him about my misfortune because he was away.”

  “I see.”

  “He relentlessly pursued me during your absence, and I couldn’t resist his charms.”

  Robert had surmised as much, and he felt his heart bleed within his chest. He had wanted to give Suzette the respectability she deserved now that he was married, but it was harder than he imagined. Her desire to leave him sliced him to the core. He inhaled a deep breath suppressing every ounce of emotion, trying to keep the proverbial English stiff upper lip mentality.