by Maggie Dove
“I don’t care. Let them hear. I cannot wait to be rid of that insolent girl. To England, she’ll go, if it’s the last thing I ever do. And this time not even Bertrand will be able to help her—well, now—” Victoria paused. “It’s about time. Do not try to sneak up to your bedroom, Angelique. I saw you. I know you’re there. Get yourself in here!”
To her chagrin, Angelique heard the shrill female voice as she whisked by the open drawing room doors. Cursing to herself, she stopped in mid-stance. Her encounter with Kent in the stables had left her in a state of total agitation. Her body still tingled at the memory of his embrace. The last thing she needed was a confrontation with Victoria.
“Angelique, come join us,” Jean-Claude called out from inside the room.
“Can’t it wait?” Angelique replied warily from the hallway. “I’m in desperate need of a bath. I was on my way up to my room.” She took two cautious steps toward the staircase, but Victoria’s screech stopped her in her tracks.
“Can it wait, she asks?” Victoria mimicked sarcastically. “The foolish girl actually thinks she can make us wait some more. Come in here at once! “
With an exasperated shrug, Angelique retraced her steps and entered the room.
“Where have you been?” Victoria demanded.
“In the stables with Lord Kent,” Angelique answered with a half-truth. Then Kent’s crooked smile appeared before her and she blushed, recalling the viscount’s strong, warm embrace. Marcus was right. Her stepmother was furious. However, try as she must, Angelique could not keep her mind on Victoria. At the moment, all she could think of was the man with the laughing blue eyes.
“Insolent hussy!” snapped Victoria. “Don’t you pretend with me. You were not in the stables all morning. I know you were with Bertrand. That worthless bastard has caused me nothing but trouble. He has ruined my every attempt to secure a profitable match for you. If you’ve been with him instead of attending to the viscount …”
“Maman, let me handle this,” Jean-Claude insisted as he turned to Angelique. “Chérie, you mustn’t disappear again. Your fiancé actually had to ask if you ate and slept in this house.”
“Oh, did he now?” Angelique asked, trying to hold her temper. “Just because I am being forced to marry the man, it does not mean that I have to account to him for all of my time. Isn’t it enough that I am to become his wife?”
Pierre smiled. “Hush, ma petite soeur. Now do not keep us in the dark and tell us what you think of him. He is not what we expected. He’s very clever. Tell her, Maman. Just this morning …”
“Enough!” Victoria hissed, still furious with the viscount over the fiasco at breakfast. She had spent half the morning removing all traces of sticky orange marmalade from her hair, and she would not be further humiliated by allowing the young girl knowledge of the incident. She continued furiously, “Frankly, I don’t care much for him or his high and mighty ways. But, I need him now. So you will behave yourself, Angelique, and remember your manners until you are married. After that, you can make each other miserable.”
Angelique felt like throwing something at Victoria. Instead, she heeded Henri’s instructions to remain patient and pretend to go along. “I never thought I’d say this, but maybe you’re right, Pierre. Kent is pleasing to the eyes. I should not have judged him without so much as an introduction. Maybe I can grow to care for him some day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going upstairs.”
“That’s our girl!” Pierre declared, full of enthusiasm. “Never mind our Maman, chérie. I knew that once you met the viscount, you would change your mind about him.”
Quickly exiting the room, Angelique rushed up the stairs and straight into her bedroom. Locking the door behind her, she fell back against its wooden moldings and let out a sigh of relief. She had played her part in making the family believe she would marry the English viscount in less than a month. Henri would be proud of her, she thought as she flopped on the bed. She should feel pleased, but instead she was filled with self-reproach. How long could she keep up the pretense? How long, she wondered, before they realized the truth?
* * * *
A few minutes later, Angelique raised her head from the pillow at the knock at the door. “Who is it now?” she called out. “Go away.”
“It is I, Tantie. Hurry, chérie, open the door.”
Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Angelique got up from the bed. “Not you too, Tante Mattie,” she grumbled under her breath as she let her aunt in. “I don’t want to listen to any more lectures. I’ve already promised my brothers that I shall be on my best behavior and account to the viscount for every waking moment of my life.”
Tante Mattie brushed past her, turning her head from side to side and clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth in recrimination. “Don’t be sarcastic. It’s not like you,” she admonished as she plopped herself down on the ivory-colored velvet chaise longue near the bed. “I’m not here to give you a lecture. I’m simply curious,” she declared with a bit of a struggle as she lifted her two portly, varicosed legs on to the chaise and stretched them before her.
“I don’t want to talk about him,” Angelique warned.
Tante Mattie paid no heed. After adjusting a fluffy cushion behind her back, she folded her lardaceous, creamy arms behind her head and prodded with an impish grin, “So, tell me.”
“Tell you what? That he is much too presumptuous for his own good? I was in his arms not one whole minute when I had to put him in his place.”
“Hush, chérie. He’ll hear you.”
“He cannot hear me. He’s gone riding.”
“Close that door, and come and sit down,” Tante Mattie insisted. “You did not insult the man, did you?” she asked, horrified. “He still wants to marry you, does he not?”
“Of course he does. And no, I did not insult him. He insulted me,” Angelique replied. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she recalled how Kent’s large hands had pressed her against his hard body. And, to her mortification, she also recalled that she had not been repulsed by it!
Tante Mattie raised herself from the chaise in a huff. “You look guilty, Angelique. I can see it in your face. Something happened in those stables. What did you do to the poor man?”
Angelique sneered. “The poor man? Ha! He deserved much more than a mere tongue-lashing. He held me very close, too close,” she spat out angrily.
“Be quiet, child,” Tante Mattie interrupted. “If his looks are any indication, I’m afraid the women in his past have not given him much resistance. Maybe he is just not accustomed to being turned down or being forced to hold back. You mustn’t judge him too harshly. Maybe his boldness was all in your mind?”
Knowing that she had not put up much resistance either, Angelique cringed at the recollection. “All in my mind?” she cried out. “It’s true I’ve had only one beau. But I can assure you, this was not in my mind. Henri has never held me in such a manner. Tante Mattie, I am afraid what we feared is true. Kent really is a rake, and I so much as told him so. I warned him, in no uncertain terms, that he had better not try anything like that again.”
“Try anything like what? He is your fiancé, chérie. What is so terrible that he should want to hold you close? I have raised you well, but I’m afraid that in your innocence you have mistaken a kindly gesture for a ...”
“Kindly gesture! He shall take no more liberties with me.” Feeling a bit remorseful at the look of distress on the elderly woman’s face, Angelique added for appeasement, “That is until after the wedding, of course.”
Tante Mattie seemed to calm. She took Angelique in her arms and kissed her cheek. “Chérie, I do not want anything to spoil your chance at happiness. You were right to stop his advances. Oui, you may not be like the women in his past, but he is just like a man,” Tante Mattie speculated, raising her eyebrow and tightening her lips in disapproval. “They’re all the same, Angelique. Canailles. Every last one of them.” Her eyes narrowed. “Most want to marry a mademoiselle w
ho is chaste, who is not known to other men. But before placing a ring on the poor mademoiselle’s finger, they will tempt her to give up her chastity every step of the way. It’s a wonder there’s a virgin left to wear white on her wedding day.”
“Tante Mattie!” Angelique burst out.
“I’m quite serious. If indeed our Lord Kent took liberties, you did right to stop him. But do not think ill of him. The poor man cannot help himself. It is in his nature to be a beast. They are all the same.”
“Henri is not a canaille. He has never tried to tempt me like that,” Angelique corrected.
“Never mind that ingénue, Henri. There is nothing tempting about him,” declared Tante Mattie. “Now take that scowl off your face, chérie, and promise me you’ll be more patient with your viscount. Try to hold that temper of yours while he is holding you. Sacré Coeur!” Tante Mattie threw her hands up in the air. “You shouldn’t have kept me. I have much to do and you look tired. There are many things you do not know about men, Angelique. Many things I must tell you before the wedding,” she admitted as she bustled out of the room without another word.
After Tante Mattie left, Angelique was certain she was having the worst day of her life. She needed Henri. How could she endure an entire month of this horrible, fallacious game without his guidance? She quickly undressed and got under the covers. “I shall dream of my new life in America and wake in better spirits,” she mumbled, as she drifted into sleep.
Hours later, she opened her eyes to dusk and, for a moment, she was completely disoriented. Then it suddenly hit her. It was evening and she had slept away most of the day. She had kept the viscount waiting once more. Victoria would, no doubt, be furious. Trying to avoid another quarrel with her stepmother, she hopped out of the bed and summoned the chambermaid to draw her bath.
After a quick soak, she toweled off before the armoire. Choosing between several of her best outfits, she decided on a white satin blouse with expanding balloon sleeves and a high neck adorned with lace. She dismissed the maid, after struggling with the much-hated corset and donned a long, sweeping black skirt over her new lace petticoat. Afterwards, she sat before the mirror and took extra care brushing her long golden curls and, after a few attempts, painfully piled them up high upon her head.
Before exiting her chambers, she walked past the full-length oval mirror and caught her reflection. She stood there for a moment, scrutinizing every detail of her attire. Her eyes slowly traveled from her head to her shiny black shoes and back up again, making certain everything was in place. She turned sideways and glanced over her shoulders to inspect her backside. Pressing her hands over her hip and buttocks, she smoothed away some last minute wrinkles and, again, turned back to face the mirror.
Finally, pleased with the results, Angelique spoke to her image, “You are only following Henri’s instructions. Oui, that is all. Kent will never tempt you again.” With a mixture of unexplained excitement and complete trepidation at having to see the viscount again, she gave herself a final inspection and curtsied before the gilded mirror as if she were bowing before a king. “My dear Lord Kent, I am now ready to go downstairs and continue with this most deceitful ruse.”
Suddenly, as if a cold chill had entered the room, she shuddered, realizing that she was priming herself for the biggest performance of her life.
Chapter Four
Angelique braced herself before the library doors. Expecting disapproval from her family for her tardiness, she was relieved to find the library empty. As she turned to go, a faint sound coming from the corner of the room made her glance in that direction.
Her pulse quickened at the sight of Kent sitting in a large wing chair, his attention fixed on an old family journal. The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement as he scanned the old manuscript. Impeccably dressed in black trousers with an informal black dinner jacket and bow tie, the stiff white shirt he wore only served to contrast his tanned, rugged features.
Mon Dieu, but he was a handsome man. It’s almost indecent, thought Angelique as she stood suspended in bold perusal of his person. There was a certain untamed aura about Kent that made him appear different from the gentle, more civilized man she knew and loved. Where Henri calmed her, this stranger unnerved her. He seemed as if he belonged in a more robust setting and not in this decorative castle. The man exuded strength and power. And yet he looked perfectly presentable, elegant, in fact. Try as she must, she could not find a single flaw in his appearance. She liked the way his large, manly hands held the timeworn journal, the way his long fingers slowly turned the pages, the way his jaw was cleft and firmly set, the way he …
“Mademoiselle Beauvisage, tell me, is my tie on crooked?”
“Monsieur?” Angelique hemmed, caught completely unawares.
“Don’t be coy, Angelique. It’s a trait I don’t particularly admire in a woman. May I ask what you find so offensive that you must look at me with such distaste?”
“Coy …I? Frankly, monsieur, I don’t particularly care what traits you find admirable in a woman. After all, you …”
Angelique stopped in mid-sentence when she noticed the sarcastic grin upon his face. She recognized the gleam of bedevilment that lightened his eyes. He was taunting her! Again, as in the stables, the man was teasing her into acting the ninny. If anything about his appearance displeased her tonight, it was only her reaction to it—to him.
She would not give Kent the satisfaction of watching her blush like a schoolgirl.
“No, monsieur. You are not offensive to me. But I’m sure you know this already. I’m certain many women have said these very words to you before. You are a roué, known for having your share of paramours.”
“You little minx, could you be questioning my past?” Kent asked with a surprised grin, as he stood from the chair and went toward her, journal in hand.
Mon Dieu, what could she have been thinking? Masculine indiscretion was a forbidden topic when it came to polite drawing rooms, especially when ladies were present. A man’s peccadilloes were his own, never to be spoken of between a young, single maid and her beau. She would have slapped his face if he had been the one to bring up the unsavory subject.
Too ashamed to face him, Angelique looked down and gazed fixedly at the Aubusson carpet beneath her. “Pardonnez-moi, monsieur. I was much too bold. I should not have called you a roué. You are a gentleman.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Angelique. I’m no gentleman.”
“This is true,” Angelique blurted before she could stop herself.
Kent’s throaty laughter filled the room. “You, mademoiselle, are the most impudent woman I’ve ever met. What the devil am I going to do with you?”
His deep, velvety voice melted her like fire, and once again, she felt the odd, giddy sensation she had felt earlier in the stables.
“Indeed, what the devil am I going to do with you?” he repeated under his breath as he took her arm and guided her to sit beside him on the settee. “Answer that for me.”
Folding her hands on her lap, Angelique looked down at them, aware that his penetrating eyes were scrutinizing every inch of her, making her feel quite naked. Her face warmed, her breathing became raspy as Nicholas raised her chin with his finger and their eyes met.
“Enough about my past. Tell me now,” he prodded. “Certainly you must have had many men pining for your affections. Maybe even one or two in love with you.”
“This is not so, monsieur. I have not been acquainted with many men. My stepmother has seen to that.”
“Poor darling, having been brought up in the most sheltered of ways, rigorously disciplined,” he teased.
“You mock me, monsieur? I can assure you it is true. My stepmother has never allowed gentlemen callers of my choosing,” Angelique uttered, knowing that she was, indeed, speaking the truth.
Her friendship and meetings with Henri had always been clandestine and hidden from the awful woman. Apart from Kent, and a few other undesirable prospects, only one other had been allow
ed to come to the château and visit her. And those visits she would rather forget. The melodic, orchestral sounds of D’Amaury’s opera still rang bitter in her ear.
“I won’t like it very much, but I must know. Tell me, angel, not one man before me has had the pleasure of courting you?”
His closeness unnerved her, allowing her to forget herself. “Only one,” she whispered.
Kent’s gaze suddenly turned dark and serious. “Angelique, I’m only going to ask you once.”
“Ask me what, monsieur?”
“Is there someone else you would rather marry instead of me? If there is someone else, I’d figure out a way to make a success of the venture without having to sacrifice you in the process.”
His words jolted something inside Angelique. She realized that he was no longer teasing her. Mon Dieu, she had almost let it slip about Henri! What was this Englishman doing to her? She could not keep this up for a month, she thought frantically. She did not want to be courted by this Nicholas Kent. It was dangerous, much too dangerous.