"A Detective Inspector Johnson left just a short time ago. Apparently the caped man is calling himself Jeremy Wyatt. I don't know if they'll find him but they're certainly looking."
"My goodness," Flora said with a heavy sigh. "I wish I could stay and take care of you. Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes, you can be extra vigilant. I don't know who this chap is or the story behind it all, but clearly he's dangerous."
"You don't have to worry. I'll be very careful, but I wish I could do something to help you feel better."
"You already have," he said with a warm smile. "Seeing you has done wonders, and I can't believe you sensed I'd been hurt."
"I suppose we must have a special connection," she said softly, feeling herself melt as she stared into his mesmerizing brown eyes. "It's the only explanation."
"I think we should leave Zane alone now so he can get some rest," Anne suggested, breaking the spell between them. "He looks like he could use it."
"I probably should lie down, but I'm very happy to see you. Thank you, Anne, for listening to Flora and bringing her here, and thank you again for what you did earlier. I'm in your debt."
"May I stop in and see you tomorrow?" Flora asked hopefully.
"The doctor has ordered me to bed for the day, but you mustn't worry. I'll be fine and I'll see you at the ball. That I promise."
"I'll be thinking about you. Please take care of yourself."
"I will, and you too."
"Bye, then."
"Goodbye Flora, goodbye Anne, and thank you again."
"My pleasure, and do what Flora said. Take care of yourself."
As the door closed behind them, he laid his head back and closed his eyes. Flora had sensed he was in trouble. It was remarkable, and seeing her had truly lifted his spirits. He felt far better than before she'd swept into the room with worry in her eyes and her feelings pouring out of her.
His gaze moved across to the flaming fire, and as he surrendered to its hypnotic effect the last of his doubts about the two of them dissolved. They belonged together.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Forty-Eight Hours Later
It was the night of the ball, and even with Bancroft's cautious help Zane had difficulties dressing, but the graze on his cheek was the only evidence of his attack. Beneath his clothes angry purple bruises covered his stomach, and the bump on the back of his head was tender to the touch, but the pain medication the doctor had left helped significantly.
"Are you ready to leave, my lord?" Bancroft asked. "Do you require more of the pain reliever?"
"I believe I've had enough to get me through the evening, and yes, I'm quite ready. I assume the carriage is waiting?"
"Yes, my lord, but may I say sir, Mrs. Davis and I are concerned. Are you sure you're quite well enough?"
"If I start to find myself growing tired or too uncomfortable I'll return home, but this is an important night, one that cannot be missed. At least the weather is cooperating. There's a chill in the air, but no wind and no rain or snow."
"Fortunate indeed, my lord. The Stewart's annual winter ball is rarely without bad weather. They'll be very pleased."
As he walked from his bedroom Zane could feel the pressure of his cummerbund, but it was more of a dull ache than a sharp pain. Bancroft was striding ahead but Zane was in no hurry. He needed to move with care.
Though the assault had been a dreadful experience it had forced him to do very little for two days, and the respite had given him much needed time to reflect on his decadent lifestyle. Flora had stolen his heart, and when he'd thought about returning to Paris, and the ladies with whom he'd been sharing his bed, he'd felt no desire to do so. He'd also realized the term 'lover' wasn't appropriate for the women in his past. He may have cared about them but he hadn't loved them. As to the notion of exclusivity, it had always seemed impossible, but now he had no wish to be with anyone but Flora, and the thought of spending every day with her was filling him with an unfamiliar euphoria.
As he slowly descended the stairs his goal for the evening was clear. Meet Flora's family and win them over so he could formally court her in coming days.
"I hope you have an excellent evening, my lord," Bancroft said as he helped him on with his coat, "and I trust there won't be too much dancing."
"Quite right. I'm not up to that."
Bancroft opened the door, and as Zane stepped outside he inhaled the chilly night air. It was refreshing, and climbing into his coach he smiled. He would soon be seeing Flora and he couldn't wait.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As Zane's carriage was pulling away, Flora and George and their parents were arriving at the magnificent home of Lord Stewart, the Duke of Westbury. The Stewarts were cousins, and though Flora and George had spent little time with their relatives, William Stewart had close business ties with Walter, and William's wife Victoria was friendly with Margaret.
"Remember you promised to give this French chap a chance," Walter reminded Flora as the elegant coach rolled to a stop. "I know I'm not supposed to push, but I do want to see you settled."
"I will. I swear I will," she replied with a happy smile.
"Elizabeth and Estelle couldn't say enough about him," Margaret offered. "You'll have to be at your charming best to outshine the other girls."
"Forgive me for saying so, mother, but all Flora has to do is be herself," George piped up. "I happen to think my sister is special enough to catch the eye of any man if she sets her mind to it."
"That's the key, setting her mind to it," Walter said firmly.
"You're so keen on this fellow, yet you can't recall his name," Flora remarked. "I do find that odd."
"Didn't I tell you?" Margaret said as the carriage door was opened.
"No, mother, you didn't."
"Out you get," Walter interrupted. "It's blasted cold. We need to get inside. She can tell you then."
Frustrated, Flora rolled her eyes as she climbed out, and the small group walked quickly up the steps and into the mansion. They were formally announced, and Margaret was delighted there were plenty of people already there. Walking into a sparsely populated ballroom made her uncomfortable.
"His name?" Flora asked as they moved forward. "Please, mother, tell me his name."
"Zavier, I believe. Look, there's Louise Parker. I must say hello. George, take care of your sister."
"Zavier? That can't be right," Flora muttered as her mother walked away. "She has to be mistaken."
"Zavier isn't far off from Zane, she could be," George offered. "She does tend to get things muddled at times."
"Where did father go?" Flora asked searching the room. "How can he disappear so quickly?"
"I think he's looking for William, but Flora, I take it nothing has changed in the few days I've been gone? You're still stuck on this Zane De'Ville character?"
"Like glue. So much has happened between us and I'm really pleased you're back, even if it is just for the weekend."
"You know father would have my head if I didn't attend this ball. I'm supposed to be meeting some influential men tonight. He's determined that I should be in finance."
"Do what you want George, don't let him bully you. Can you see Zane anywhere? He must not be here yet."
"Are you sure? There are a lot of people in this room."
"Believe me, if he was here you'd know it."
"Let me guess," George said raising his eyebrows. "He'd be surrounded by women?"
"Exactly, he really is the handsomest man."
"That doesn't bother you?"
"Why should it?"
"I admire your self-confidence," George said with a grin, "and it's warranted."
"Thanks, big brother."
"Speaking of missing guests, do you see Millicent? She's the real reason I'm here."
"Now there's a surprise."
"Cheeky girl," George winked. "There's father at least, and who's that he's with?"
"I have no idea. I've never seen him before."
"I have a
feeling that could be Zavier."
"Nooo, why?"
"He's about the right age, he's sort of attractive, and our father is grinning from ear-to-ear."
"Sort of attractive? George, look at his eyebrows. They're like giant caterpillars. This is a disaster!"
"Don't worry, Zane will show up," George said in a hushed whisper, "and if he's as charming as you say he'll outshine that joker walking towards us."
"Flora, my dear, this is Zavier Moreau. Zavier, this is my daughter, Flora."
"My absolute pleasure," the swarthy man declared taking Flora's hand and bowing his head. "You are even more beautiful than your father proclaimed."
Flora instantly disliked him. His accent was thick, almost affected, and he had an ugly scar down the side of his cheek.
"Shall we take a moment for the chat," he suggested, "or perhaps you would like some champagne? You know our crops have had a very bad few years. So sad, my poor vines, the pests you know."
"No, I didn't," she replied, "what a shame."
"I take it you own vineyards, Mr. Moreau," George said trying to distract Zavier from his sister who looked as if she'd been told someone had just died.
"Oui, I have a little acreage in the north."
"You needn't be modest, Zavier," Walter exclaimed. "His family have vineyards as far as the eye can see, or so I've been told."
"That is because they are on a hill so you can't see very far," Zavier chuckled. "Perhaps, Flora, you will join me on the terrace? They have small fires out there, and it is such a beautiful night. There is no rain, no wind, and the moon…it is glowing full in the sky."
"Go with him, Flora, tell him what we have to offer here in London," her father said briskly.
"Very well, father, and George, if that, uh, friend of ours shows up please come and find me. You know I'm looking forward to seeing him."
"Of course I will," George promised. "I'm sure he's looking forward to seeing you as well."
"If you will excuse us, Lord Braithwaite," Zavier said with a slight bow of his head. "I am humbled and honored that you would allow me to spend time with your lovely daughter."
As they walked away George glanced at the entrance to the ballroom. Now he had two people he needed to watch for. Millicent and Zane De'Ville, and though he was eager to see Millicent he hoped Zane would arrive first. Zavier had made him feel uncomfortable, and he wasn't very happy that Flora was alone with him.
"I can only imagine how you're feeling, sister dear," he muttered, then looking up at his father he asked, "Exactly who is this Zavier fellow?"
"Closely related to the former ruler, my boy, otherwise known as the King of the French."
"Really? He doesn't carry himself like a European aristocrat, and that accent, it's bizarre."
"I don't give a hoot about his accent. He's not English, so does it matter?"
"That's an interesting question," George said thoughtfully. "I'll have to think about that. I say, what's going on? Why is everyone staring towards the entry?"
"It appears our host is walking in with some dignitary or other."
"Walter, what's happening?" Margaret asked as she quickly approached. "Tongues are wagging about some extremely important person arriving."
"I don't know, my dear, but I suspect that must be him."
"Oh, my goodness," Margaret said in a hushed whisper, "what a striking figure. Who is he?"
"I have no clue, my dear, but we're about to find out."
The duke's butler stepped into the room and banged his stick on the hard marble floor three times, then waited for the crowd to fall quiet before he began to speak.
"His Royal Highness, the Prince of the French, Zane Francois Leopold De'Ville."
"My heavens, he's so handsome!" Margaret exclaimed. "Walter, why didn't you know about this? We must introduce Flora at once. He's here alone, and look at him. What a fine figure he is."
"You've already said that, but you're quite right. I shall have words with William about this. He should have told me."
"George, why are you just standing there?" Margaret asked brusquely. "Go and find your sister at once."
"I will, mother, but I think I should have a word with the Prince first."
"A word with him? What on earth are you talking about?"
"I'll be back in a moment, then I'll search her out," George promised, and before either of his astonished parents could question him further he had turned away and was walking directly towards Zane.
"Good evening, George," William said as he approached. "Your Highness, may I introduce George Braithwaite. Our families are related. His father is the Earl of Whittenham."
George saw Zane's eyes light up.
"I see, George Braithwaite, yes, I'm delighted to meet you, and please call me Zane, I despise formality," Zane said warmly. "William promised he wouldn't announce me in such a manner but I should have known better. He does love such moments."
"Just because the French saw fit to strip their noble families of their titles doesn't mean I have to abide by their foolishness here in England," William declared. "You're a royal, and if your country hadn't been caught up in such turmoil you'd be ruling the blasted place now. Tell me, would you have used the title, King of the French, or the King of France."
"I haven't given it any thought," Zane said with a wry grin, "and it matters not. I am now a simple businessman. Tell me, George, are you attending University?"
"I am, Oxford," George replied playing along, knowing Flora would have told Zane all about him.
"I'd like to ask you something about Oxford but it's a personal matter and it is rather important. I wonder if we might speak privately?"
"It might be a bit difficult," George remarked eyeing the crowd. "I see several people on their way to meet you."
"William, might I bother you for a private room for just a moment? Then I promise I shall reappear and socialize with your many friends."
"Of course, follow me, Your Highness."
"You really don't have to call me that."
"I know, but I enjoy it," William said with a grin as he led him to a door off the busy foyer. "Here you are. Take as long as you wish. Your short vanishing act will only add to your appeal."
As they walked into the luxurious salon, William left them alone and closed the door, and George stared at Zane shaking his head.
"This is quite a lot to take in. The Prince of France? I assume you never told Flora who you are."
"My goodness, no, it would have been nothing but a burden for her, and she would have viewed me differently. She is here I trust?"
"Yes, she is, but please forgive me, I'm very confused. The Zane De'Ville I've heard about is an absolute rogue. You seem so—not—if you'll excuse me for saying it that way."
"Ah, yes, well, I must confess my reputation is warranted. I wasn't terribly concerned about it following me over from Paris, and quite frankly I was looking forward to some of those debauched country weekends I've heard about, but then I met Flora. It's one of the reasons my dear friend William chose to introduce me to London society the way he just did. He claimed it would cause my wayward past to become part of my mystique, "
"And he'd be right. Everyone cares about titles over here."
"But I must explain to Flora. Can you find her for me? I'm sure she'll be overwhelmed with the news, and I'll be deluged with people the moment I walk into the ballroom."
"She may not have heard William's declaration. There's another Frenchman here that father wanted her to spend some time with, though now you've arrived on the scene I suspect he'd much prefer your company for Flora than this other chap."
"I'm happy to hear that. I really am very serious about her."
"Are you? I'm glad to hear it."
"Who is this other Frenchman?"
"His name is Zavier Moreau."
"Zavier is here? But that's impossible."
"You know him?"
"Absolutely," Zane replied with a deep frown "We're cousins. We don
't see much of each other these days, but I know he's extremely busy with his vineyards at the moment. He's had a terrible time with his vines recently."
"Yes, yes, I've heard, and he said the same thing. He's definitely here. He and Flora took a walk out on to the terrace, though I'm surprised to hear he's your cousin."
"Why is that?"
"Forgive me, Zane, I shouldn't have said anything. I'm afraid I have a habit of letting things spill out of me without thinking sometimes."
"It's perfectly all right, and I'm curious. Please tell me your observations."
"Zavier was a bit, shall we say, affected. Certainly nothing like you."
"That's odd, Zavier is reserved, and very much a gentleman."
"Maybe he's coming out of his shell. How did he get the scar?"
"Scar?
"The one that runs along the side of his cheek. Nasty looking. I say, are you all right?"
"This is terrible news. That man is an imposter. He's after your sister and he means to do her harm."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Flora was becoming annoyed. She and Zavier were outside on the terrace and he continued to place his hand on her back trying to guide her away from the other guests, and a couple of times she'd caught him glancing at her with an odd look in his eye. Not only was it disconcerting, she was anxious to return to the ballroom to see if Zane had arrived, and in spite of the warm fur shawl around her shoulders she was feeling chilled.
"I think I'd like to go back now," she said politely, then glancing around the wide patio she added, "and it seems others had the same idea. I wonder if something is happening inside."
"Let them go ma chérie," he cooed. "The night, it is so beautiful, the moon is so silver and round, and the air is so fresh and clean. It is a night for lovers, no?"
"Perhaps, but not for me, and forgive me, but I am not your ma chérie!"
"Not yet, but the night, it is young."
"The night may be young but I'm not, and I can see where you want this to go so let me make this clear. My heart is spoken for."
As they'd been talking he had slowly moved down the terrace and across to the balustrade, leading her further away from the few remaining guests.
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