At ten minutes past ten Joseph Crawley arrived with his second and a surgeon. Nodding curtly to the silent group, he eyed his tall, slim adversary. In a few minutes this arrogant Ardsmore would feel the steel of his blade. That would wipe the imperious smile off his face. Crawley’s lips curved in a cruel smirk.
“Well, sir,” Valentine taunted his formidable enemy, “Shall we get this affair over quickly? I have better things to do with my time.”
“It will be my pleasure, Ardsmore. I can hardly wait for the joy of running you through.”
“Gentlemen,” Danforth called, “this is a duel of honor. Let us hold to the rules. It is my duty to ask each of you to settle this matter peacefully according to…”
“Save your breath, Danforth. I have no intention of drawing off even if Crawley were to bég my forgiveness,” the Viscount added scornfully.
Turning a fiery red, his lordship shouted, “Insolent dog! I will beg your forgiveness when hell freezes over.”
There was a clash of swords as the two men swept into sudden action. Time after time their blades hissed against each others’ as they parried backward and forward over the crunching snow. Their blades flashing in the moonlight, each antagonist sought an opening or an advantage. Murderously Crawley drove his point against the Viscount’s only to find it artfully blocked. Each time he thrust, Valentin skillfully outmaneuvered Crawley’s bold strokes.
The Viscount’s eyes danced with delight as he parried still another of Crawley viciously aimed assaults. Crawley fought with furious intent, desire for Ardsmore’s death driving him almost to recklessness. Valentin, on the other hand, fought dispassionately. Knowing his own mastery of the weapon, he deftly controlled the execution of each stroke. He did not wish to inflict a mortal wound. His aim was a disabling strike to his enemy’s right arm, rendering it useless and thereby guaranteeing Perry’s safety.
Finally, the Viscount’s chance came. Feinting a thrust, he forced his adversary off balance. With a swift, darting movement the point of his sword drove into Crawley’s upper arm. Valentin stepped back breathing hard as the Crawley’s sword sagged but steadied within seconds. Disbelief flickered in Crawley’s eyes momentarily as Ards-more saluted him. The recovering man lashed out driving Valentin into temporary retreat. Valentin widened the distance between them, allowing his infuriated opponent to chase him halfway across the courtyard. Then the Viscount halted as his panting adversary closed the gap between them. Now he waited somewhat impatiently for his next opening. He was certain it would come soon enough. The Viscount leapt aside and chuckled mischievously as Crawley lunged forward once more. Valentin gave him no time to recover before his blade made straight for Crawley’s heart, stopping short of piercing the flesh. Crawley gasped audibly as he envisioned death at the hands of his deadly enemy, whose cold blue eyes glittered with contempt. Next he felt a cold draft as his shirt was ripped open and Ardsmore mockingly stepped aside. Enraged by this humiliation, Crawley lashed out wildly. Passing below his opponent’s hacking weapon, Valentin struck once more squarely through the right wrist. Crawley’s blade dropped as blood flowed freely over his hand. His second immediately hustled him off to the waiting surgeon.
Danforth smiled wanly and went to Valentin’s side. “There is no need to worry now, Val. Lord Crawley won’t use that arm for quite some time. Perry is safe.”
“Yes, until he opens his mouth again. Thank God it all turned out right.” A brief smile lighted his weary face.
One of Crawley’s men approached. “The surgeon has informed his lordship he will not be able to use his right arm for several weeks.”
“You may inform Lord Crawley that the Harcourt honor is satisfied on both accounts, and if he wishes to with draw from tomorrow morning’s duel of pistols, the incident will be forgotten.”
“That is most generous of you, my lord. Undoubtedly his lordship will accept your proposal.”
“Undoubtedly,” Valentin nodded. “But reluctantly,” he added to Danforth. He shrugged into his greatcoat. “Let’s find Perry and ease his mind.”
The grandfather clock had just finished chiming the half hour. Twelve thirty and still no word. The women huddled deeper into their shawls as dying embers spurted fitfully on the hearth. Madame Lafitte’s voice droned on, a murmur floating against their tired brains. They struggled to maintain an air of dignity and calm against the increasingly gloomy thoughts swirling about in their minds. At last the sound of a horse clattering across the cobblestones of the courtyard aroused them from their lethargy. With a start they were on their feet, but an imperious wave of Lady Eleanore’s hand kept them from bounding into the corridor.
“We will receive whatever news with dignity,” she managed to say steadily just before a shout of “Mama!” greeted their ears and the door swung open.
“Good Lord!” Valentin exclaimed with some consternation as he surveyed the distraught expressions on the faces before him. They continued to stare at his ruffled hair and sparkling eyes.
“It is only me.” He began to chuckle. “You look as if you have seen a ghost. Weren’t you expecting me? Pierre’s message said you were.”
“Don’t you laugh, sir, or I shall box your ears. How could you be so reckless and risk a duel so close to your wedding day?” Lady Eleanore’s relief turned into anger.
“A duel? Who told you anything about a duel?” His eyes narrowed and sought out Nicole.
“Never you mind. Just tell us what happened.”
He grinned once more. “Lord Crawley is at this moment nursing a wounded arm.”
“And you?”
“As you can see, I am all in one piece, and extremely pleased with the results of tonight’s work.” He crossed the room to kiss his mother’s cheek.
Somewhat soothed, she said, “I never doubted your skill for a moment, my son.”
“My ability with the sword is seldom questioned, ma’am. I wish the same could be said of my authority.” Once again his eyes swept Nicole.
He suspects me of informing on him, she thought incredulously. The fool! As if I would tell his mother even if I did know what he was planning. She threw back her head defiantly and met the challenge in those piercing blue eyes. I should tell him it was his mistress who flouted all convention by coming here.
Lady Eleanore, intercepting the clash of eyes, placed herself between them and announced, “This affair has upset us all and kept us up unnecessarily late, so bid the ladies goodnight, Ardsmore, and be on your way.”
“Might I have a word alone with my fiancée?” he asked.
“No, no, the girl is exhausted. Besides, you are promised to us for the weekend. There will be plenty of time to chat then. Come, I will see you to the door.”
“There is no need, ma’am.”
“There is every need,” she informed him emphatically.
Noting the determined tilt of her head, Valentin acquiesced, saying, “Well, ladies, it seems I am dismissed. Until tomorrow, goodnight.” He saluted smartly and escorted his mother from the room.
It was sometime later before Lady Eleanore returned to usher them all to bed. As Madame Lafitte helped Nicole prepare for bed, she listened to the girl’s vehement outburst against the morals of the Viscount. Sighing heavily, madame cajoled persuasively, “Ma chérie, it would not be wise to reproach him for the faux pas committed by that… woman.” She waved aside Nicole’s protest and continued, “She has much gall, that one, but remember you are not his wife yet. You would only anger his pride and jeopardize your chances for winning his heart.”
“But, Fifi, it was his mistress who dared come here, insulting all of us.”
“And do you think to gain his love by storming at him of insults? No, chérie, a jealous rage now would only force him to defend his position. And the wedding only a few days away. Wait. Bide your time. Once you have his love you will not suffer the burden of such women. So promise me, little one, to say nothing of this Von Hoffman woman.”
Nicole flounced upon the bed and pu
rsed her lips. “Fifi, he thinks I informed on him. I saw the accusation in his eyes. How can I just ignore it?”
“Be assured Lady Eleanore has already straightened him out on that matter. Why do you think she accompanied him to the door? The Viscount does not lack for sense, I think. The Von Hoffman woman will not intrude here again. Unless I am sadly mistaken, she will be so informed shortly.”
Madame Lafitte could not have been more correct, for at that very moment the Viscount was mounting the stairs two at a time to Tessa Von Hoffman’s boudoir. Without knocking he flung open the door and strode into the room. A startled cry sprang from the flimsily clad woman reclining on the settee. She rose to a sitting position, clutching the diaphanous garment about her.
“Valentin, thank God! I thought you might be dead.”
“Damn you, Tessa,” he lashed out at her and crossed the room.
“What?” Her head flew back to meet the angry blue eyes. “I am frantic with worry for you, mein Herz, and you come storming in here to‘damn’ me!”
“How dare you go to my mother?” he roared.
“How dare I?” She rose from the settee, allowing her dark tresses to fall over her silken shoulders. “Do you think I am some common tart from the streets that you speak to me so? You insult me!” She turned her back to him.
Reaching out and grasping one of those tawny shoulders, he swung her around to face him. Annoyance was still visible in his set features. “My future wife resides there.”
“You led me to believe I would be the future Viscountess,” she snapped.
“Never!” he denied emphatically. “You knew from the beginning what our relationship would be. You never wanted or expected anything more.”
“I could kill you for such indifference,” she stormed. What he claimed was once true, but no longer. She wanted him for her own.
He chuckled softly. “Could you, love? Well, I could have almost killed you for upsetting my family tonight.” Encircling her slender throat, he added half in jest, “Don’t ever put me in a spot like that again.”
Catching his change of mood, she playfully simpered, “Created something of a stir, did I?”
“Heed my warning, you minx,” he said ominously, but laughter was in his eyes.
“And if I don’t?” she taunted.
“Don’t tempt me too far.”
She moved closer to him, pressing her body against his and smiling temptingly up at him. The heat of her flesh aroused his own sensual appetites. Crushing his lips to hers, he groaned, “You witch, it’s too bad I still want you.”
“Ah, Ardsmore, we both know what we want. You want my body, but I… I want all of you.”
“Liar,” he said softly and refused to listen -to any further protests as he carried her to the bed.
Much later, as Tessa casually stroked his muscular chest, she asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone, “This girl, the one you are to marry, what is she like?”
Sitting up abruptly, he answered curtly, “She is what she ought to be.” He rose from the bed and began to don his clothes.
“That could mean many” things. I wish to meet her,” she stated flatly.
Before she realized what was happening, he was towering over her clasping one of her thin wrists cruelly.
“I wasn’t joking when I told you earlier to stay away from my family… especially her,” he threatened.
“Darling,” she cajoled, “you know I only wish to please you.”
“Let’s keep it that way.” He increased the pressure on her wrist.
“Valentin, you hurt me,” she cried.
His fingers relaxed. “Sorry, my pet, but let that be a reminder to you that I mean business.”
“You are terribly ferocious about this one, mein Schatz. Why? What does she have, I wonder?”
“Just leave her out of our discussion.”
“Ah, you are cruel. I fear this girl already has some hold on you. Perhaps she is the one to capture that elusive heart of yours, eh?” There was a melancholy note in her voice, as if she were becoming aware of the fleeting hold she had on his affections.
“No woman will ever own that,” he joked. “But enough of this. I must be on my way.”
She clung to him. Liebchen, do not go yet.”
“But I must.” He removed her clinging arms from about his neck. “Now be a good girl,” he murmured.
“Will I see you soon?” she asked, sadly realizing their relationship was nearing its end.
He hesitated, then spoke rather sharply. “I doubt it. Certainly not before Vienna. The wedding is in a matter of days, as you know.” Grasping his discarded coat, he bent quickly and kissed her cheek. For a moment he paused and regarded her fondly, but the next second he straightened and, crossed to the door. He turned to look at her and said quietly, “Take care, Tessa, my love.” And he was gone.
Sleep did not come easily to Nicole that night. Thoughts of her impending marriage harried her remorselessly. Could she honestly convince herself that she would be able to overcome the odds pointing to the failure of this union? Wasn’t it foolhardy believing it would all work out the way she wanted it to? Throwing back the bedcovers, she got up and crossed to the window to stare at the glow of moonlight on silvery snow. It was so peaceful and calm as a few flakes floated gently earthward. Would she ever achieve such harmony in her life? Especially marrying a Harcourt? But whatever Valentin brought her, she knew she wanted him with all her heart.
Chapter VI
Having left Tessa shortly before dawn, it seemed to Valentin that he had just fallen asleep when his valet was waking him. Disgruntled, he crawled from bed and prepared himself for the day. Disquieting thoughts pursued him all the way to his mother’s home. Damn, he couldn’t help it if he had thought. Nicole guilty of revealing his whereabouts to his mother. She was the logical choice. Hadn’t she questioned him yesterday morning about what he was going to do? But that was not what was really bothering him, and he finally admitted it to himself just as he reached the house. It was Tessa! The way his mother had taken him over the coals for Tessa’s scandalous behavior still made him shudder. He should have foreseen the problem and set Tessa straight, yet what had he done after being in her company for less than ten minutes! He had succumbed to her blandishments as usual.
Hell, wasn’t a man entitled to some relief, especially after the night he had put in? Nevertheless, it was Nicole’s knowledge of Tessa that he could not accept. Most men had mistresses, but the wise man didn’t flaunt them before his family. He would not repeat his father’s error.
A very defensive Viscount presented himself to the ladies a few moments later. He surveyed the trio before him with appreciation. His mother was splendid in her morning dress of plum silk, and Cecily was charming in a blue frock, but it was Nicole, appearing almost angelic in a soft pink, muslin, that caused the catch in his throat. Every time I see her, he thought, she is more beautiful. Tessa had asked him what Nicole had. Wouldn’t she have laughed if he had replied, “Innocence.” But God, it was there—that purity and womanliness at the same time. He felt his brow grow damp and cursed himself for a fool.
“You see, madame, you said ten o’clock, and I am here,” he announced.
“Then we can be off. We do not want to keep your Uncle Maurice waiting. He has planned this weekend at his chateau for some time. Here is Perry now. We are all ready.”
Escorting them to the waiting coach, Valentin decided to repair the damage done to his relationship with Nicole, and holding her back, he took her arm solicitously, remarking, “I hope the ride will not prove tedious for you. The chateau is not too far from Versailles and well worth visiting.” He turned on one of his most engaging smiles and immediately Nicole found herself forgiving him.
“I am looking forward to the weekend very much.”
“I hope one of the reasons is the time we will be able to share there together.”
Flustered, she answered faintly, “Of course, my lord.”
�
��Nicole,” he chided softly, “I thought we had agreed to first names.”
“Yes, yes, certainly… Val,” she blushed prettily.
“Come on you two,” Perry called. “There’ll be time for that later.”
Valentin assisted Nicole into the coach, then mounted his horse and turned to Perry beside him. “Clod! Will you never learn to keep that mouth of yours closed?”
“What did I do now, Val?”
“Never mind,” his brother sighed in exasperation. “Just learn when to speak, will you?” and the Viscount spurred his horse on its way.
Upon their arrival the Marquis escorted them into his resplendent state dining room. It was reminiscent of the now untenanted palace of Versailles. Ornate golden paper decorated the walls and tawny satin draperies covered the long narrow window embrasures which flanked one side of the room. The opposite wall was dominated by a magnificent sculptured fireplace containing a blazing fire. On the ceiling paintings of nymphs and cherubs floating among clouds of muted pinks and golds created an airy impression of heavenly realms.
Awestruck, Nicole sat back in a velvet chair and pondered the fate of the king and queen who had dined some twenty-three years ago at this very table so elegantly set with its embossed china and deep-cut crystal. Poor Marie and Louis! Poor Marquis! So much of his world had been swept away and only some of the outer trappings remained. Strange that Valentin’s next comment should echo her own thoughts.
“We have been transported to the past, Monsieur le Marquis. It is quite an honor to be wined and dined as if we were royalty.”
“Good food and drink are a few of the pleasures that I can enjoy these days. At least when my gout is not acting up. Besides, I wish to treat this lovely young lady to the joys of the ancien régime before it passes away with me.”
“Oh, Uncle Maurice,” Nicole protested as he took her hand and kissed it.
“We did not dine in the white salon, mignonne, because it is much more intimate, so I wanted to save that pleasure for you and this young rascal to enjoy on your honeymoon.”
Sweet Bravado Page 6