by Maggie Dove
Trying to compose herself, she attempted to reassure him, “There is no one else I would rather marry. There has only been one other man before you. But do not worry, monsieur,” she added, “that was a very long time ago.”
“Oh?” Kent regarded her icily. “Do you mind telling me his name? Your brothers mentioned a Monsieur D’Amaury. Is that the one?”
“Of course not,” Angelique snapped, insulted. “That man is old enough to be my father. Why, he has a daughter my age. I assure you, monsieur, D’Amaury was no beau of mine. Victoria wanted to force the marriage, but we … I did not let her.”
“Then who the devil is this beau you once loved?” Kent demanded.
“Does it matter, monsieur?”
“It matters.”
“Mon Dieu, but you are a jealous man. You have no right to be angry with me. I told you, this happened many years ago. It was nothing,” she insisted. “Anyway, I never said that I loved him, monsieur. He was in love with me.” She smiled indulgently. “That is very different.”
Kent did not return her smile. “What’s his name?”
“Gerald Mustelier.” Angelique thought quickly, borrowing the name of a hero in a novel she had read long ago. “Oui, that’s it, Gerald Mustelier.”
“Tell me about him, Angelique. Will he be attending our wedding?”
“Attending our … certainly not!”
“Why not?”
Mon Dieu, the man was relentless! Remembering the story in the novel, Angelique took a lace handkerchief out of her skirt pocket and pretended to dry a tear.
“I’ll tell you why he cannot attend, monsieur. He is no longer around to attend. You see, m’lord,” she said, feigning a sniff, “my young man is dead.”
Trying her best to look mournful, she lowered her eyes and continued solemnly, “He belongs to the past. I cannot bear to speak of him.”
“You cannot bear to speak of him, mademoiselle? I thought you did not love him.”
Angelique lifted her head to his. “Oui, but I did not want him to die. As I said before, I was lonely and Mustelier was quite attentive.”
“His death must have been dreadful for you,” Kent remarked. “I’m somewhat curious, though. Can you answer something for me?”
“Of course, monsieur. What is it you want to know?”
“What did this poor unfortunate fellow die from at such an inopportune time in his life?”
“What did he die from?” Angelique reiterated in sudden panic. Try as she must, she could not recall how Mustelier died in the novel. Was it murder, suicide—a duel? No, none of these!
“Well?” he insisted.
“I did not ask how he died. I did not want to know. I just could not bear it.”
Kent’s brow furrowed. “You could not be bothered to ask about this man’s death?” he asked, incredulously. “You could not muster a little curiosity on how he died? You owed him that much. Even a dog deserves better.”
“Do not judge me, monsieur,” Angelique snapped at him, actually more annoyed with herself for having spun this absurd web of deception in the first place.
“Mustelier, I mean Gerald was a dear man and I grieved for him, regardless of how he died. Now, I’m afraid, you have brought it all back to me.”
Again, she lifted her handkerchief to dry another nonexistent tear from her eye and glanced sideways at him. She was pleased to see what appeared to be remorse on his handsome face.
Gratified, Angelique sniffled twice. “Lord Kent, I kindly ask that you … oui! I remember now, oui!” she burst out, suddenly recalling how the story went.
“Mustelier fell from a cliff, Lord Kent. He fell from a cliff!” she declared proudly.
“Bloody hell, woman, what an awful death!”
As he was looking so splendidly noble, Angelique could not help but forgive him.
She was actually feeling quite smug when she noticed him frown in confusion and heard him say, “I find it puzzling how here in this valley, a place clear of hills and mountains, Mustelier could have possibly fallen from a cliff.”
Just then, Victoria entered the room. “My lord, how terribly silly of us! We were in the drawing room waiting and you’ve been in the library with Angelique all along. Come with me, dinner is served,” she announced to Angelique’s great relief.
The Montclair brothers and Tante Mattie were already sitting at the table when Victoria led the couple inside.
“So there you are, you two. Now sit down before we starve to death,” teased Jean-Claude.
“Hush, my boy. I’m certain they have been getting acquainted with one another,” affirmed Tante Mattie, highly flushed and fortified with more than her share of the wine. After they took their places at the table, Tante Mattie directed her gaze toward Nicholas. “Lord Kent, do not take what Angelique said in the stables seriously. She has a bad temper and shouts when excited. It has always been like that.”
Nicholas’s lips twitched devilishly. “She sounds promising.”
“Monsieur, you are most assuredly a rascal!” Tante Mattie declared, her plump features scorched scarlet due to the alcohol and the intimacy implied by his words.
“Tantie, please stop,” Angelique pleaded, mortified, not daring to look at Nicholas.
“Pourquoi stop?” Tante Mattie shrugged, turning to Angelique. “If you are to be taken from me to live in England, who better than this blue-eyed devil of a man to sweep you off your feet?”
Victoria’s eyes widened in outrage. “Comport yourself at once, Matilde! I’m sorry, Lord Kent. I do not know what has gotten into her.”
Tante Mattie giggled, stifling a hiccup. “You must forgive me, my lord,” she apologized to Nicholas. “It’s my age, you know. Sometimes my words hold no meaning, not even to me. But you will take good care of my niece, won’t you?”
“Don’t worry, Matilde.” Taking Angelique’s hand in his, and giving Tante Mattie a meaningful look, Nicholas vowed, “I’ll take care of her. Unlike that chap, Mustelier, who left her in his prime. Imagine that ill-fated fellow actually falling from a cliff in these lovely parts. One has to be extremely unlucky, don’t you think? Did they ever find the body? Are you all right, love?” he asked innocuously when Angelique proceeded to choke on a gulp of wine, sputtering most of it over her new satin blouse.
Drenched in vintage burgundy, Angelique leaped from the table, and to everyone’s surprise, cried out with dismay before running from the room, “You’ll have to excuse me!”
“I’ll see to her,” Nicholas volunteered as he rose from the table, leaving the bewildered Montclair family staring after him, their brows furrowed in collective confusion.
* * * *
The next morning, Victoria marched into the study, throwing her hands up in the air at the sight of her stepdaughter sitting at the windowsill. “Where is Lord Kent?” she demanded. “You were supposed to take him on your morning ride. This is a courtship, you foolish girl. Why are you not spending time with him?”
Looking away from the window, Angelique remained unperturbed. “He did not join me this morning. He left with my brothers—hunting or fishing, I guess. I didn’t have a chance to invite him last night.”
“I should say, what on earth possessed you—running off from the dinner table like that?” Victoria huffed, calling to mind the fiasco of the night before. I don’t blame the man for preferring my sons’ company to yours. He probably thinks you’re insane,” she hissed. “Now listen to me, you little ingrate. If you ever disappear like that again or do anything whatsoever to ruin my plans, you will regret it. I have given you the biggest opportunity of your life. I have made a good match for you. Not only is the viscount rich and handsome, he will carry the title of earl one day. In the future, you will thank me for making you a countess.”
“You have only done these things because my marriage will prove lucrative for you. Do not insult my intelligence by pretending that you have done all this for my sake,” Angelique dared to correct her.
Victoria s
talked to the window to tower above Angelique. “Watch that tongue of yours, Angelique,” she warned. “I’m not your father. You do not have me wrapped around your little finger. I’ll not hesitate to give you a good lesson.”
“What is it you want?” Angelique asked flatly.
Waving her forefinger in Angelique’s face, Victoria summoned, “You’d best be cordial to the man and show some interest. I’ll not warn you again,” she threatened, enjoying the angry blush on the girl’s cheeks. “I’m not fooled for a minute, chérie. I know you too well. You’re just like your mother.”
“Must you always mention my mother? What has she to do with this? I will not do battle with you today, Victoria. I refuse to be baited.”
“She had your face, you know. Ah, the oh—so—enticing Lorraine Dussac,” Victoria muttered with disdain. “Hah! The filthy slut who slept with half the Loire behind your father’s back. Dear Julian, what a naïve fool you were.”
Angelique stood from the sill, her eyes wide with sudden outrage. “Throw insults at me, Victoria, but never again speak of my parents that way. I won’t allow it.”
“You won’t allow it?” Victoria mimicked in disbelief. Holding back from shaking the life out of the impudent girl, she replied matter-of-factly, “Now, you know better than to shout orders at me, Angelique. You’ll suffer the consequences. Don’t look so angry, chérie. Such are the facts—your mother was a whore, your father a fool.”
“They are gone, Victoria. Let them rest in peace,” Angelique demanded. “You have no right to malign their memory.”
“I have every right to malign them. Because of your parents, I was left with no other choice but to wed Guillaume Montclair. Such an ordinary man!”
Victoria chortled suddenly, mocking her late husband’s memory. “Guillaume was so different from my beautiful Julian. Oh Julian, my dear, departed Julian. Indeed, what a twisted paradox we lived! And to think you were extremely proud of your choice of stepmother. Why your very last words to me, spoken on your deathbed, were of gratitude.”
Victoria’s mind raged with the memory. “You thanked me for taking such good care of your dear little angel. You never mentioned the fact that I had been a devoted and faithful wife. That, my dear husband, was never important to you.”
“So now, mon amour,” she chuckled sarcastically, dropping her gaze to look pointedly at Angelique, “I have no choice but to retaliate for your lack of love and affection. Your Angelique will never have the one she truly loves. She will be forced to wed another. Love will elude her as it did me. Bertrand will be lost to her … as you were to me!”
“I knew it!” Angelique flashed Victoria a look of disdain. “You have planned this for years. It has nothing to do with making a good match for me. You just want me to be miserable. It is not for the merger, but for revenge that I must marry Kent. You’re even crueler than I thought,” she countered icily, as she turned her back to Victoria and started to walk away from the window. “Why must you hate me so?”
Victoria stared at the exquisite girl who glared back at her with eyes the color of blazing emeralds and knew it was true. She loathed Angelique Beauvisage like no other. She recalled her once beautiful brown eyes, which were now plagued with crow’s-feet and failing vision. Her body, once shapely and robust, was now bent and unattractive, while Angelique’s curvaceous figure burst with the firmness of youth. And, unlike Angelique’s beautiful, thick golden locks, her own shiny black mane was thinning and peppered with the gray strands of age.
Victoria seethed as she reflected on her wasted youth and remembered how, rather than the ardent lover she had so desperately longed for, she had ultimately acquired a detached and unresponsive partner in Julian. Instead of nights full of passionate lovemaking, she had received courtesy and dull gestures of friendship. And it was all the girl’s fault. The brat had come to resemble her mother more and more with each passing day. Victoria had tried to make Julian fall in love with her, yet his daughter had increasingly reminded him of the one woman he could never forget.
“Stop right there!” Victoria lashed out, grabbing her stepdaughter by the sleeve and yanking her back. “Not this time … you will not disappear this time. You are the most exasperating, brainless, foolish girl I have ever known. I hope you will learn to be more responsible when you are married.”
Angelique, her eyes bordered with angry tears, her lips trembling, pulled herself loose from Victoria’s grasp and turned to face her. “Maybe once I’m married I shall not be forced to seek refuge from your hostility or ill humor. Maybe then I shall not have to disappear.”
Victoria chuckled nastily. “Maybe you will not be so obstinate and self-willed when the viscount puts you in your place. I can tell you right now, Kent is not going to put up with your pigheaded, willful ways.”
“My willful ways, you say?” Angelique spat out in reckless anger. “Ah yes, Kent will definitely have his way with me. He will definitely put me in my place—in his bed—a place my father never put you.”
Both women gasped at once. The girl looked shocked, maybe even ashamed at the words she had just spoken, but this did not ebb Victoria’s fury in the least.
“Why you insolent little brat … you brazen, terrible girl! May you burn in hell for all eternity. You will pay for these shameful words you have dared to utter. You belong to the devil, you most wicked, horrible girl,” Victoria shouted. Incensed, she raised her hand and was about to bring it down hard on Angelique’s face.
“Madame, don’t even think it,” a deep voice called out.
Victoria whirled around to find Nicholas standing in the doorway. There was a touch of untamed fierceness in him. He resembled something wild, his body rigid with fury. His lips were tense, and the blue of his eyes had shaded to a dark, harrowing gray. “Do not touch her, madame.” His words were barely audible, but they were clear … deadly clear.
“Lord Kent!” Victoria tried to smile, as she slowly brought her hand down to her side. “How long have you been standing there? Things are not as they appear. Surely you have misunderstood.”
“I misunderstood nothing, madame. Consider this your first and last warning.”
“My lord, do not threaten me. I am your father’s business associate, and he shall hear of this.”
“This is not a threat, madame,” Nicholas retaliated with a dark look that chilled her to the bone. “I will not permit anyone, not even you, to strike or hurt what is mine.” He continued with precision; his cutting words delivered without emotion. “It’s you who do not threaten me. The venture can go to the devil, along with your sorry self.”
“Well, I never!” Victoria gasped. “Be advised, Lord Nicholas, the earl will certainly …”
Nicholas did not let her finish. “Leave us!”
Victoria did not need to hear more. Clenching her teeth, she gathered her skirts and brushed past him, quickly leaving the room.
Turning his gaze back to Angelique, Nicholas seemed to check his anger. “Did she hurt you in any way?”
“I—I’m fine,” Angelique answered softly. She walked across the room to stand before him. “Victoria did not touch me.”
His thunderous expression softened. “Come closer.”
His eyes swept over her face as he caressed her cheek with the knuckle of his forehand. “I did not see her slap you, but your cheeks look burning hot. Answer something for me, Angelique,” he ordered gruffly. “Has that woman ever hit you before?”
Angelique drank in the comfort of his nearness. His touch was soft and soothing. “Never,” she lied. “Victoria has never slapped me or hurt me. My lord, it was really my fault. I provoked her.”
He definitely will have his way with me and my place will be in his bed!
Mon Dieu! A guttural sound escaped her lips when she recalled her own words. She was not certain whether she was more distressed at having thrown those awful words at her stepmother or the dreadful possibility that Nicholas had actually overheard them.
Attempting t
o sound nonchalant, she stammered Victoria’s original question to him, “H-how long had you been standing there, monsieur? Did you hear anything?” she asked in a faint whisper, her voice cracking with embarrassment.
“Hear what, my love?” he asked innocuously.
“Monsieur, how long had you been standing there?” she repeated with mounting dread. Then gazing at him, she suddenly wished she had not asked. His dark blue eyes sparkled with complete understanding as he stood casually against the doorjamb, strong arms folded across his chest, a devil of a smile beginning to form on his face.
“How long, monsieur? How much did you …”
Nicholas did not wait for her to finish. Without another word, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard on the lips. Then, just as suddenly, he let go of her, allowing her to fall back against the doorpost.