Sweet Bravado

by Alicia Meadowes

  The sound of Valentin leaving by the front door brought her out of her reverie. She got up from the table, went to the window and pushed the curtain aside in time to see him leap onto his horse. Valentin’s eyes scanned the windows and rested on her for a moment, and then another. Finally, he wrenched his eyes away and rode off, leaving Nicole to stare into an empty courtyard.

  Threats and reproaches. That was all he had for her! Well, if that’s the way he wanted it, tonight she was going to Zarelle’s with Joseph Crawley whether he approved or not.

  Wellington’s headquarters on the Rué Royale were a short distance from the Rue d’Anglais, but the Viscount chose to ride, taking a brief canter about the park to clear his mind and collect his thoughts. He reached headquarters in a state of depression, the ride having accomplished little.

  Most of the men who formed the Duke’s personal staff in Vienna were with him in Brussels, and their lively youth and good humor were as much in evidence as ever. Nevertheless, the look on Lord Ardsmore’s face as he entered acted as sufficient warning and his fellow officers gave him a clear berth. He stood at a window staring moodily at the passing throng in the streets, neither seeing or hearing what took place—his thoughts filled with Nicole. Desire, anger, longing, and chagrin were tangled together in a skein of bewildering emotions. Damn the wench! She was destroying his peace! He had longed for a reconciliation. At least some sign of contrition on her part… but no, instead he found her as defiant as ever and—

  “Colonel”—his thoughts were interrupted. “Lord Ards-more, someone to see you.”

  He swung around. “Danforth! by jove, it is good to see you. How the hell are you?”

  “Fine and yourself?” Gordon Danforth said clasping Valentin’s hand.

  “As well as can be expected,” he grinned. Then added, “I thought you were in Ghent?”

  “I was until yesterday, but the Duke’s arrival has brought me here. I am to be a liaison officer between the court at Ghent and Brussels.”

  “Good, then we shall be seeing something of you.”

  “Yes. I heard your wife was in Brussels. How… how is she?”

  “You shall see for yourself. You will dine with us tonight, of course?”

  “I would like that.”

  “Good. And then you can tell me about the mysterious Parisian beauty who captured your heart.” A look of pain crossed his friend’s face. Quickly Valentin added, “And I will regale you with tales of Vienna.”

  “Yes,” Danforth recovered, “but now I must file my report.”

  “Until tonight then.” Valentin escorted Danforth from the office and returned to tackle a pile of papers on his desk, stopping momentarily to wonder what had happened to his old friend and this girl Perry had written about. Perplexed still, Valentin resumed his work.

  Nicole had arranged earlier in the week to have dinner with Lord Crawley at Zarelle’s, a dance hall of considerable notoriety. Everyone who attended the infamous establishment disguised their appearance by wearing masks and dominos. Nicole had been half-tempted to cancel the invitation knowing of Zarelle’s dubious reputation, but her curiosity, coupled with Valentin’s ultimatum, spurred her on.

  So, despite her husband’s warning, Nicole enlisted the aid of the unsuspecting Helen Bramwell. After sending a note to Crawley advising him to meet her at the Bram well’s, Nicole concealed her domino and mask under her cloak and made her way to their home.

  She was not prepared for Helen’s vehemently negative reaction when she was informed of Nicole’s destination. Helen remonstrated with Nicole, but to no avail for it only made her more determined to go through with the evening as previously planned.

  “I do not think you should do this, Nicole,” Helen pleaded as she followed her into the entrance hall.

  “You make too much of it, Helen. Good heavens, you know as well as I that everyone goes to Zarelle’s. I only wish to see what all the fuss is about. Now be a good friend and do not fret. I must rush. Crawley’s chaise is already waiting.”

  And without another word, she swept from the house leaving the distressed girl behind.

  The note for Captain Bramwell arrived at headquarters just as he and Lord Ardsmore were about to leave. Quickly perusing the scrawled message from his wife, the Captain raised his head abruptly and scowled at his companion.

  Noticing the frown, Valentin commented, “I hope it is not bad news, Harry.”

  Hesitantly he held out the note to Valentin. “I… I think you’d better read this, Val.”

  The last remnants of a smile faded from Valentin’s lips as he read the note. Muttering an oath, he crumpled the paper in his hand and raced from the building leaving Bramwell wondering what he should do.

  Nicole’s senses throbbed with the excitement of Za-relle’s. The dance floor was sparsely lighted by hanging lanterns and much of the room was in semi-darkness. Tiers of private booths draped in black and red helped to create a mysterious atmosphere. Unable to follow the strange steps being performed by the costumed figures who crammed the dance floor, Nicole removed herself from Crawley’s grasping arms and asked him to seek refreshments while she returned to their box.

  It was cooler in the small corridor, and Nicole’s agitation subsided once she was out of the crush. She was sure she had glimpsed several other socialites behind those masks and dominos; nevertheless, she could not relax. Try as she may to blame it on Helen Bramwell’s forebodings, she could not shake off her uneasiness. There was a disturbing change in Crawley’s demeanor tonight. He had always treated her with deference in the past, but here at Zarelle’s he was behaving aggressively, and it frightened her.

  Entering the box and removing her mask, Nicole breathed a sigh of relief. She had come to a decision. As soon as Crawley returned, she would ask him to take her home. She admitted to herself that it had been a mistake to come here.

  “Ah, there you are, ma chère” Crawley exclaimed as he entered and placed their refreshments on a table. “May I offer you a glass of champagne?”

  “Joseph,” Nicole began nervously. “I wonder if you would think it too bad of me if I asked you to take me home…”

  “Take you home?” He sat down beside her and clasped her hand. “But we have just arrived. The evening is young.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I seem to have developed a splitting headache.”

  “No, no, my dove, you do not escape me so easily.” He began to press Nicole back among the sprawling pillows.

  “Joseph!” she exclaimed indignantly, resisting him.

  “Yes, my love?”

  “Do not call me that!”

  “And why not, my love?” He imprisoned her in his arms.

  “Stop it!” she demanded.

  “Why do you thrust me away from you?”

  “Why? Need you ask?” Her voice was full of reproach.

  “Do not tell me you are going to remind me that you are a married woman?” He laughed mirthlessly. “That farce!”

  “How dare you!”

  His hold tightened as he sought her lips.

  “No, you must not,” she cried against his lips.

  “Why mustn’t I? You and I are kindred spirits. After all, we are after the same thing.”

  “What do you think I am after?”

  “What else—the ruination of Ardsmore!”

  “Oh no, you are wrong,” she wailed. “Ruin my husband! Why… why do you hate Valentin so much?”

  “I hate him for more than one reason. Ever since our days at school and later during our regiment days. Always the leader—the hero! And calling me out as a cheat over cards. But it is much more than that. Much more. Our families have detested one another ever since your husband’s father killed mine in a duel.” He was breathing heavily, and there was rage in his eyes.

  “Killed your father?” Nicole whispered.

  “Yes, killed him over a woman… my mother. Harrison Harcourt thought he could carry on the affair with impunity, but my father sought to a
venge his honor. Didn’t you know?”

  Nicole shook her head numbly.

  “My mother committed suicide leaving only me to redress the wrongs done my family by those damnable Har-courts. And finally I will have my revenge.” He leaned toward her.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You, my lovely, will bring us full circle. Viscount Ardsmore’s wife my mistress.” He threw back his head and laughed. What had she done? Why had she not listened to the warnings of so many? Bent on showing Valentin her independence, she had placed herself, the family, and her husband right in the middle of a new scandal. She must get out of here!

  “And now my sweet, it is pay-up time.” He pulled her back into his arms.

  “Joseph, you are my friend.” She tried to reason with him.

  “Never! I am no friend of any Harcourt! I planned this right from the beginning when I first met you. Why do you think I introduced you to the maestro and encouraged you to dance? I knew your history. It is unfortunate that it had to be you. I could have cared for you. But you must be ruined along with your husband.”

  She struggled against him. “No, oh please, no.” Gathering her last remnants of strength, she wrenched herself free and fled the box.

  “So there you are!” It was Valentin who was mounting the stairs in an angry fury.

  “Val!” she cried breathlessly and flung herself into his arms collapsing against his chest. “Please, take me home,” she whimpered.

  Instinctively his arms tightened about her, and she felt the security of that embrace, but the moment was shattered by the emergence of Crawley from the lounge.

  “Ardsmore!” he snarled, dark color suffusing his face.

  A man and woman about to enter their box stopped to watch the spectacle taking place.

  “So, Ardsmore, the triangle is at last complete.”

  “I should have finished you the last time we met,” Valentin seethed. He attempted to step forward, but Nicole clung to him.

  “No, Val! He is mad! Nothing happened!” she pleaded. Her fear was more for Valentin than herself. “Please believe me.”

  “You expect him to believe that?” Crawley laughed.

  Valentin’s eyes narrowed dangerously and thrusting Nicole aside, he smashed his fist into Crawley’s jaw sending him sprawling. “I will be back,” he rasped icily, and grasping Nicole firmly about the waist, he forced their way through the gaping onlookers. He was not finished with Crawley, but this was not the place to settle the issue. First he must get his wife off the premises. Then he would take care of that menace, Crawley, once and for all. Either he or Crawley would walk away from their next encounter—but not both of them.

  Valentin was not surprised to see Danforth and Bram-well hurrying toward them. Harry must have gone to Gordon. There was sure to be gossip. Helen Bramwell could not be expected to remain silent for very long, and who could blame her? Nicole’s behavior had laid them both open to further speculation by the ton. How could she stomach Crawley? It was hard to believe Nicole despised him so much that she would make up to his most dangerous enemy. But she had! That was what was so galling!

  Valentin was dragging Nicole down a side street to a waiting curricle, but she did not complain. The violent expression on his face kept her silent although she desperately wanted to explain.

  Nodding curtly to the sheepish greetings of his two friends, the Viscount turned abruptly to Nicole and commanded, “Get in.”

  “Are you coming with me?” she asked in a whisper.

  “I have unfinished business!”

  “No, Val, I beg of you…” She clutched his arm, but he thrust her off and jeered, “You—begging? Who are you trying to save by this untimely intervention?”

  There was an audible cough from Danforth which brought an end to their bitter exchange.

  “I will meet you inside, Gordon,” Bramwell cut in as he left them.

  Watching him go, Nicole cried, “Let me explain, Val.”

  “Isn’t it a little late for explanations?”

  “I have been wrong…”

  “You certainly have,” he claimed in a barely controlled voice. Then he continued in clipped tones, “Gordon, will you see my wife home?”

  “Think of the scandal!” she wailed.

  “Nicole is right. Val, you cannot afford the scandal. Use your head,” Danforth pleaded. “You would be playing right into Crawley’s hands.”

  Before Valentin could reply, Nicole cried out and pointed behind him. Crawley had followed them from Zarelle’s. All reason had collapsed once Crawley saw his ultimate goal failing and he was driven by only one thought—Ardsmore must die! Extracting a pistol from his vest, he leveled it at the Viscount.

  Whirling about, Valentin stepped aside and lunged for Crawley’s pistol hand, jerking it up and wrenching the weapon from his grasp. Not easily overpowered, he flung himself at the Viscount, forcing him to stagger backwards. Recovering quickly, Valentin drove into the Baron throwing a blow to his mid-section, doubling him up. Crawley gasped loudly as he was seized by the lapels and a swift sharp right, then left, landed on his chin. Crawley slipped to the ground at their feet, apparently senseless.

  Quickly surveying the situation, Danforth grabbed Valentin and began pushing him toward the stricken Nicole. “You two get out of here! There will be a crowd in a few seconds. I will handle this,” he spoke urgently.

  “Val, look out!” Bramwell shouted, but it was too late. As Valentin turned, the Baron fired, hitting him in the shoulder. He staggered, and Nicole reached out for him.

  Rushing forward, Bramwell kicked the pistol irqm Crawley who still knelt on the ground. “You bloody coward!” Bramwell shouted as he leveled his own gun at him. “I knew he was up to no good as soon as I saw him coming this way.”

  “It’s lucky for me that you did,” Valentin winced as he straightened and moved out of his wife’s embrace.

  Danforth assisted Nicole into the curricle and came to Valentin saying, “We can handle this. You must see to that shoulder immediately.”

  The Viscount nodded, but before joining Nicole, he instructed Danforth to make arrangements for him to meet Crawley.

  “I will see to it. Now get going.”

  The curricle moved forward with its unhappy passengers.

  “Let me see to this…”

  Valentin shrugged loose of Nicole’s hold on his injured arm. “It’s all right!” he growled.

  “But you are bleeding!”

  “I’ve had worse.”

  “If only you would let me…”

  He cut her off. “I’ll live! In spite of your wishes. Now just leave me alone!”

  Nicole’s lips quivered, but she kept back the threatening tears.

  Upon reaching the house on the Rue d’Anglais, Valentin managed to stumble from the curricle and steady himself beside it. Without a word Nicole offered her arm and reluctantly he accepted it.

  The startled butler was told that the Viscount had sustained an injury requiring immediate attention, and that Madame Lafitte should join them in the Viscount’s room. Anxiously, Nicole followed him upstairs and paused at the door wondering whether to enter his room. As if anticipating her thoughts, he said, “You had best come in and help me off with my jacket since my valet is not here.” Breathing deeply, he sat down wearily and let Nicole remove his jacket. He winced, and she mumbled an apology for hurting him, but he ignored her.

  “I will have to rip the shirt.” Nicole waited for him to confirm her statement, but when none came forth, she repeated herself.

  Vehemently he replied, “Just get on with it, will you!”

  Annoyed by his curt demand, Nicole ripped the shirt carelessly. At his intake of breath, she looked down into his pain-filled eyes and was immediately penitent. How she wished to comfort him, but he wanted none of her sympathy. Unsteadily she proceeded to pour water into a basin and began to sponge the wound. Nicole suggested a doctor be called, but he insisted it was only a scratch.

  “Quel
dommage! What has happened?” Madame La-fitte scurried into the room.

  “An accident, madame. Can you bind it for me?” he asked, pushing Nicole’s shaking hands away.

  As the Viscount turned from his wife, Madame Lafitte observed the crushed look on Nicole’s face and the grim determination on the man’s. Both were very pale.

  “Nicole, ma chère, get his lordship a brandy and one for yourself. You both look faint.”

  Nicole did as she was bidden and handed the glass of brandy to him. His. eyes held Nicole’s for a second; then he quickly closed them and gulped down the brandy.

  “Drink yours, too, mon enfant,” Madame Lafitte insisted as she took the bottle from Nicole’s numb fingers. “And give me the bottle.”

  “I hope you do not intend to drink from the bottle, madame,” Valentin joked feebly.

  “You are too bad, mon Colonel,” she smiled. “This brandy will sting. Perhaps you would like to hold your wife’s hand, eh?”

  Hard blue eyes scorched one, then the other woman as he replied curtly, “Just do it quickly.”

  Nicole held her breath as he endured in silence. Madame Lafitte moved quickly and soon the wound was bound. “Ah, fini,” she concluded with satisfaction.

  “Thank you, madame.” He rose and, purposefully focusing his attention on Lafitte and ignoring his wife, he said, “I can manage the rest.”

  “But, non, your valet… he is not here, n-est-ce pas?” She was undaunted by his steely blue eyes. “So your wife will help you, yes?” And she swept from the room closing the door behind her.

  Unsteadily he took a step forward. Nicole, who had remained unobtrusively in the background, came quickly to his aid placing her arm about him. He stared bleakly down at her upturned troubled face. Then his eyes glazed over and he shook free of her saying, “I’m all right. I said I can manage.”

  “Will you not let me help you?”

  “I don’t understand this concern you are showing. The wildcat suits you better. Don’t change character in midstream, I won’t know how to deal with you.”