Xavier shook his head. ‘Angelique? No. I didn’t even know she knew.’ He scowled. ‘Are you saying Angelique could have gone after Max but that she chose not to?’
Leoni shrugged. ‘I have no idea. You’d have to ask her.’
Xavier frowned. ‘I don’t have time.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I have to go or I’ll be late for my flight to Paris. I seem to be living out of a suitcase at the moment. I hope Ashton doesn’t mind me crashing at his place – I must call him on the way.’
Leoni’s eyes flickered for a moment.
Xavier watched her. ‘Any message for Ashton, by the way?’
‘No, thank you.’ Leoni didn’t even know how she was going to face him at the launch. Her heart ached at the thought of losing Ashton’s friendship forever but she didn’t know how she was going to get past what he’d done. ‘Actually . . . ask him how he got the building,’ she said.
Xavier looked bemused. ‘How he got the building? Er, all right. I’ll ask him. Would you like me to tell you what he says?’
Leoni looked away. ‘No. I don’t think there’s anything he can say that will make me think differently of him.’
‘Right.’ Xavier had no idea what was going on. Maybe Ashton would be able to enlighten him when he arrived.
Bewildered, Xavier stepped out on to the gravel driveway. He was beginning to think they’d all done far too much in the name of the family recently. They all deserved to be happy so it was about time they started living and doing what they wanted, not what they felt they should do.
Grimly, Xavier strode to the car waiting for him in the driveway and got in. As the car pulled away, he turned and took a glance at La Fleurie. He had a feeling things were going to be very different for everyone after Paris.
‘Please be all right,’ Madeleine pleaded as she swept Max’s dark hair back from the bandage wrapped round his head. He was asleep and in spite of the fact that she was neglecting her studies, she hadn’t left his side once since she’d heard the news about his accident.
Madeleine sighed. That wasn’t completely truthful; she’d been forced to sit outside on a number of a occasions as a stream of visitors had filed in and out, including Seraphina, Guy and Delphine. Seraphina had been practically inconsolable in the beginning and she had only calmed down when she had been fully assured that Max was going to be fine, with no lasting damage. Finally convinced her twin was in safe hands, she had left him to heal, popping in each morning and then going back to La Fleurie to look after Cat, who was also battered but thankfully not hospital-bound.
Guy had been equally distressed and when Max had come round, they had spent hours talking to one another. Madeleine had kept her distance, hovering outside the door with her hands clasped round a cup of coffee. She knew the discussions taking place were serious and it was only when she saw Max crumple and Guy hold him tightly that she knew everything was all right between them. Leoni had also made an appearance, bringing Max’s favourite chocolates as well as some rude magazines Xavier had sent on inside some other, more innocuous-looking journals. Leoni had scolded Max like a child, before giving him a warm hug that showed just how pleased she was that he had survived the terrible accident.
Enjoying a rare moment of solitude with Max again before any visitors were due, Madeleine gently stroked his face. Neither Vero nor the boys had been to visit Max, which summed up how little they cared about him. They knew about the accident because Madeleine, unsure of the best thing to do, had sent them a text to let them know. She needn’t have bothered; the boys hadn’t responded and Vero had sent a jaunty text back to say she might visit when she’d finished partying in Marseilles.
Madeleine felt tears approaching as she examined Max’s injuries. A large bruise stained Max’s left cheek where his perfect cheekbone had been shattered and his lip was torn. His head was tightly covered in a bandage with a large, padded section over the gash he’d received from the jagged rock he’d fallen on. The doctors, delighted to have someone as glamorous as Max Ducasse in their wards, claimed he had nearly died and would have done if the ambulance services hadn’t reached him as quickly as they had.
Madeleine didn’t know what to believe but the thought that Max might have died was too much for her so she chose to think the doctors were being dramatic. She did know he was covered in bruises and that he had stitches on almost every limb but Madeleine wasn’t prone to dwelling on the negatives; she’d rather think he was over the worst. She sat up as Max’s eyelashes flickered and whipped her hand back. She had no idea if Max was slipping in and out of consciousness or if he was just sleeping and she felt self-conscious at the thought of him hearing her banging on about how worried she’d been.
‘Madeleine,’ he murmured, his eyes fixed on hers.
Madeleine thought he sounded pleased to see her but she wasn’t sure. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like shit,’ he responded, pushing himself up on one elbow. ‘I could murder a coffee.’
‘I’ll get you one.’ Madeleine started to get to her feet.
‘Stay,’ Max said, grabbing her hand. She sat down again. ‘Have you been here every day?’ he asked, reaching out to touch her soft brown hair. Wearing a white peasant blouse dotted with red cherries and cut-off denim shorts, she was a sight for sore eyes. ‘Remind me if I forget – I need to ask you about Paris.’
Madeleine blushed. ‘Er, yes, I have been here every day. I know that makes me look like a stalker but I wanted to make sure you were all right.’ She took out her phone. ‘I sent a text to Vero and the boys but they . . .’ Just then Vero poked her head round the door. Wearing black leather from head to toe and flipping her long, black hair out as she removed her motorcycle helmet, she cut a vampy figure.
Madeleine stood up, feeling redundant. How could she, the epitome of the girl next door, compete with Vero?
‘I heard you had an accident,’ Vero mentioned coyly as she came into the room. ‘Thought you might like some company.’
‘I would, actually,’ Max said.
Madeleine stepped back, crushed.
‘I meant Madeleine’s, not yours,’ Max told Vero coldly, enjoying her startled expression. ‘You only want to hang out with me when I’m doing something stupid, which makes me think you don’t exactly have my best interests at heart.’
Vero flushed.
‘I thought so. Go away, please. I’m busy.’
He held his hand out to Madeleine. As Vero flounced out of the room, Madeleine took his hand, her heart beating frantically. She felt euphoric that Max had chosen her over Vero.
‘What were you saying about Paris?’
‘Oh yes.’ He nodded then thought better of it. His head hurt like hell. ‘When I was lying here with nothing to do but let the doctors sew me back up, all I could think about was you.’ He smiled at her in the most heartbreaking manner, stopping as his split lip hurt. ‘Ouch! I realised you were the one who’d stood by me all through the idiotic stuff I did at college and being there when no one else was. That means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.’
Madeleine melted. However mean he’d been to her in the past, none of it mattered. Not now.
Staring at her, Max realised she had very pretty eyes. ‘How do you fancy coming to Paris with me? To the launch, I mean.’
‘Oh, just try and stop me.’ Madeleine laughed, squeezing his hand.
Guy went in search of Delphine and found her in her quarters. Outwardly, she seemed composed but when she turned to face him, Guy was troubled by her appearance. For the first time, he realised she was old, something he hadn’t really thought about before. She was in her early seventies, hardly a spring chicken, but she had always seemed so sprightly before. There was a pile of unopened post in front of her, which was most unlike Delphine; she was efficiency personified. It was another detail that jarred.
He was worried about her. He couldn’t help thinking she might be heading for a stroke or something. He couldn’t possibly say such a thing to her; Delphine was known for
being openly dismissive about illness which, rather like displays of emotion, she saw as a deplorable weakness. Taking the seat opposite her by the window she seemed reluctant to leave, Guy was shaken at the thought of something happening to his mother.
‘I’m going to see a grief counsellor,’ he blurted out, anxious to divert attention away from his concerns for her. He’d promised Max and Seraphina he would get some help and he was going ahead with it, regardless of what his mother had to say. ‘I’m sure you’ll think I’ve lost my mind and that the group will be full of weak-willed losers who should stop banging on about their emotions and just get on with it but I promised the twins. Or rather, I promised myself I would do this for them.’
Delphine inclined her snowy-white head but said nothing.
‘What, no cutting comments?’ Guy regarded her, feeling unnerved. As much as he detested his mother’s coldness, there was a familiarity about it, a predictability that let him know he was in the critical but nonetheless close-knit bosom of his family. Without it, he felt rather like a raft abandoned by its mother ship: adrift, with no direction and no security. Guy had craved her affection pretty much all his life but he had always found reassurance in her sang-froid and practicality.
Delphine cleared her throat and sat up. ‘You know how I feel about counselling, Guy.’ Her querulous tone gave Guy a stab of encouragement. ‘But if you feel it will help you, who am I to object?’
Guy shook his head in bemusement. ‘Who are you to object? Mother, you haven’t once, in all of my life, felt the need not to comment or object about anything. What’s changed?’
Delphine glanced out of the window again. ‘So many things have happened . . . so many terrible things,’ she murmured, seeming distracted. ‘Olivier’s death was the catalyst but things have spiralled from there.’ She laced her finely veined hands together. ‘And I am to blame for much of it.’
Guy frowned. He wasn’t used to hearing his mother take the blame for any of her actions and even though it was the right thing for her to do, again he felt unnerved by the change in her.
‘I was the one who invited Yves here,’ Delphine said, visibly shaking at the memory of what the man had nearly done to Seraphina. ‘And what about Angelique?’ Her eyes were bitter. ‘I was so wrong. I thought Xavier would be pleased, that he wanted her back here. I thought he and Cat were getting too close and I wanted to put a stop to it. Why would I do such a thing, Guy? Why would I assume that I know better than my own grandson about his love life?’
Quick to reassure her, Guy did his best to sound reasonable. ‘Well, we all make mistakes. Look at me. Which is why I’m trying to do something about it.’
Delphine lifted her delicate white eyebrows. ‘And what shall I do about my sins, Guy? What can I do to atone for the mess I’ve made? Xavier is barely speaking to me. I know he returned from Morocco but he hasn’t been to see me, not even for five minutes.’
‘He’s busy working on the fragrance,’ Guy protested. ‘I only saw him briefly myself. He said he had some business to deal with in Paris . . .’
Delphine waved a hand. ‘Don’t bother, Guy. I only hope he’ll forgive me for inviting Angelique here. And who is that brute of a manager of hers? Mason something-or-other. He looks like a mafia boss.’ She shuddered.
Guy laughed. ‘I know. He says he detests Angelique but I have a feeling he’s protesting too much.’ His expression became more sober. ‘I have a confession to make, actually.’
Delphine raised her eyebrows.
‘The legal papers that would have severed all ties with Cat?’ Guy’s mouth twisted uneasily. ‘The ones that disappeared? I . . . I shredded them.’
Expecting his mother to fire a tirade of abuse at him, he was astonished when she blinked at him before bursting into peals of laughter. She laughed so hard, she started crying and all Guy could do was sit and stare at her. He hadn’t seen her laugh like this for years and even though he didn’t know the reason for her mirth, he found himself joining in.
‘Oh, Guy, you have no idea how funny that is.’ Delphine wiped her eyes. ‘You are literally the last person I would have suspected of doing that. But it all makes sense.’ Her expression softened. ‘She reminds you of Elizabeth?’
Guy swallowed. ‘Yes, but not in the way you might think. She’s beautiful, yes, but I have no feelings for her in that way. It’s . . . it’s more complicated than that.’ He tried to put it into words. ‘There’s something about her, something special, and I know you don’t agree but I really feel that she’s changed our family for the better, that she’s saved us, if that doesn’t sound silly. The twins adore her and even Leoni is now her biggest fan.’
‘And Xavier?’
Guy looked concerned. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s in love with her but I don’t know if he’s figured that out yet. What with Angelique wafting around all over the place and no doubt enticing him into bed . . .’
‘Don’t.’ Delphine looked crestfallen. ‘What an error of judgement. I liked her so much the first time round; I thought she was a wonderful example of womanhood because she seemed so ambitious but so family oriented at the same time.’ She made an impatient sound. ‘Angelique reminded me of myself at her age – how egotistical! Now I realise she was simply putting on a front, playing up to my sense of family loyalty. I forgot what a talented actress she was.’
‘As I said, we all make mistakes.’ Guy looked sympathetic. ‘I just hope it’s not too late for Xavier and that he realises how amazing Cat is.’
Delphine nodded.
Guy became wistful. ‘As for me, Cat was the only one who recognised I was grieving for Elizabeth, the only one, Mother. No one else noticed . . . because we’re all too caught up in our own problems to be the intensely loyal, committed family we should be. The family we mistakenly thought we were.’
Delphine nodded sagely. ‘I agree with you.’ She saw Guy’s eyes snap up in surprise. ‘Oh yes, Guy, I admit I haven’t been the best judge of character of late but even I have been . . . charmed by Cat and what she’s done for the family.’ A mischievous smile played at her lips. ‘Pascal drew up a third set of papers, you know.’
‘He did? Well, if they’ve gone missing, it wasn’t me.’
Delphine smiled. ‘Well, not missing exactly.’ Delphine reached into the drawer of her desk and pulled out the stiff set of documents. ‘I told Cat the papers hadn’t arrived yet . . . I lied.’
She went pink. Hiding the legal papers hadn’t been her only crime; Delphine hadn’t told anyone she had taken Cat’s passport for a while to bide some time. The fact that the replacement was taking so long to materialise was simply a stroke of luck, but Delphine was keeping quiet for now. ‘Needs must, Guy. At least she’s still here. We just need to make sure Xavier doesn’t do anything silly and choose Angelique instead.’ She frowned at Guy. ‘He won’t do that, will he?’
Guy considered. ‘I don’t know. Angelique is beautiful but she’s so self-absorbed. I can’t imagine why Xavier was attracted to her in the first place. Perhaps he really did love her once, though – which is unfortunate because it can create a very strong bond, can’t it? Even years later.’ Disconcertingly, Marianne Peroux flashed into his mind. Did he and Marianne have a bond? Perhaps they did. Not that it mattered; their paths were unlikely to cross now.
Delphine looked uncomfortable again. ‘I wish I knew what went on between Xavier and Angelique, what secret they are hiding. I don’t suppose I would have meddled if I’d known more.’
Guy swallowed, knowing he had probably pushed Xavier away when he had tried to talk about what had happened. ‘I really need to go and get my head sorted out,’ he sighed.
‘Yes, well.’ Delphine’s tone became brisk and bossy once more. ‘I have plenty of things to be getting on with before the Paris launch.’ She flapped her hands at Guy. ‘Go and do your little grief counselling thing.’
Feeling at least that some semblance of normality had been restored, Guy did as he was told and finally plucked up the c
ourage to call a counsellor.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A few weeks later Angelique fumed as she reclined on a sun lounger. Xavier had returned from Morocco, locked himself in his lab to add the final stages to his precious fragrance and now he was off again to Paris. The launch wasn’t for another few days, so what was the hurry? Angelique considered her next move as she rubbed factor fifty into her body with vigorous strokes. She never allowed herself to tan but sunbathing allowed her to flaunt her flawless body so she indulged every so often. And the June sunshine was too glorious to resist. Wearing a tiny red bikini with her blonde hair pinned up in a seemingly careless bun that Celine had spent an hour teasing into place, Angelique knew she appeared serene on the outside. On the inside, however, her mind was whirring. She had to pull off what she had set out to achieve. She had bided her time for long enough, as well as turning down many good opportunities; falling at this final hurdle just wasn’t an option.
Running a hand idly down her jasmine-scented thigh, Angelique bit her full bottom lip so hard it hurt. What was Xavier playing at? Why hadn’t he spoken to her when he returned from Morocco. Surely he wasn’t interested in that English girl? Cat, or whatever her absurd name was, was his cousin’s widow, hardly the most suitable girlfriend. Turning as she sensed someone behind her, she tutted when she saw that it was Mason. Wearing a striped brown suit despite the sweltering weather, with one of the loudest ties she’d ever seen, he looked incongruous in the grounds of La Fleurie; hot, uncomfortable and ridiculously American. Recoiling as she noticed the beads of sweat sliding off his big nose, Angelique glowered at him. His shoulders blocked out the sun.
‘I could get one of those restraining orders out against you,’ she snapped in English, thrusting her sunglasses up on to her nose, mostly to dim the brightness of his horrible tie. God, it was ugly! Just like Mason, she thought to herself uncharitably. He was a brute of a man and his orange and brown tie summed him up perfectly.
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