It was becoming clear to Andre, though, that Dr. Jolie had other ideas. “Tell you what…” The doctor stood. That had to be a bad sign. Didn’t standing mean he was about to show them out? “Let’s just let nature take its course. If Tasha isn’t with child by the time Christmas rolls around, then we’ll discuss fertility options.”
Christmas? Seriously? The fertility doctor wanted Tasha to wait six months before implementing some sort of a treatment plan?
Tasha let Andre lead her, pretty much in a daze, to the limo waiting outside the building’s main entrance. He helped her into the car and then climbed in himself.
“Can you close the partition, please?” she whispered to Andre.
“Sure thing.” He reached for the button and pressed it. The window immediately and effectively cut them off from the driver. Andre slipped her hand in his and squeezed. “Look, I know this wasn’t the news you wanted to hear, but if there’s nothing wrong with either of us then the odds are in our favor, right?”
Tasha appreciated Andre’s pep talk, but optimism wasn’t a part of Tasha’s skill set right now. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Maybe Tasha was destined to be the aunt who spoiled her nieces and nephews rotten, to the dismay of their parents.
“You know, I’ve been thinking…” And she had. Not very long, only since the doctor’s words had filled her mind, but once Tasha got an idea in her head, it didn’t take much for it to take hold. “Maybe we should just forget about this fertility business.” She looked at Andre for direction. “Maybe we should quit trying and just let nature take its course. I can’t keep living like this. Wondering every month if we’ve succeeded, and then feeling the deflation when we don’t. If it happens, wonderful. If it doesn’t, we need to be able to move on and just enjoy our lives.”
“I agree. Let’s give nature a chance.” He pulled her to him and kissed her cheek. “But are you sure you’re okay with leaving it up to fate?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Besides…I’m having a lot of fun driving Julian up the wall. He thinks I’m obsessed with Juliana.” Tasha giggled. “I do enjoy the little tyke, but I also enjoy freaking out Julian.”
After returning to Pacifique de Lumière, Andre settled Tasha in for a nap and then went out to the gardens. He knew Tasha was just being brave. That she wasn’t as compliant with the doctor’s advice as she’d claimed. Trouble was, Andre wasn’t sure how to make this right.
In the garden, Andre turned sideways and squeezed through the hedges. The Roman Goddess statue, the protector of the garden, and the benches perched against all four walls of shrubs might have been weathered with time, and the trees and shrubs might have grown considerably, but every time Andre came into the grove he was transported back to a time when he was no more than two. He had flashes of memories about playing here. He knew his mother used to bring him and Julian inside the grove, but even so, Andre hadn’t a single memory of his mother even though he well remembered playing in here with Julian. There was a part of Andre’s heart that felt cheated because he hadn’t any memories of his mother. If only he could’ve managed to save just one.
He took the handkerchief from his pocket and brushed dust from the goddess statue’s face. “Mama, where did I go wrong?” Andre asked, barely above a whisper. His gaze moved to the memorial stone beside the goddess. It and the new bench at the foot of the statues were the newest things in the garden. Andre’s eyes traveled over the words on the memorial stone.
We thought of you with love today,
but that is nothing new.
We thought about you yesterday
and days before that too.
Your memory is our keepsake,
with which we’ll never part.
God has you in His keeping,
We have you in our hearts.
In loving memory of our little Angel.
We cherish the few precious weeks
your mother carried you in her womb.
“Is this punishment for not telling Tasha about the stipulations of the will in the first place?” A chill shuddered over him. “Did our only child die because of me?”
The hedges rustled behind him. Andre looked over his shoulder just in time to see Julian squeezing through.
“What are you doing here?” Andre asked.
“Looking for you.”
“Why?”
“I saw you come out here. And you only come out here when something’s troubling you.”
Andre had to give Julian credit. When he was right, he was right. Even so, that didn’t mean Andre was going to tell Julian what was troubling him. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said, shaking his head.
Julian stopped beside Andre and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “Try me.”
Andre shook his head. “I just can’t help wondering if this mess isn’t a product of my own doing.”
“I’m not following you.”
“I told you that you wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m sure I could if you’d just help me to understand what you think you’ve done that’s so awful.”
“I should’ve been forthcoming with Tasha. I should’ve told her from the beginning what was really going on.”
“So tell her now.”
“It’s far too late for that.” Andre stared at the ground. “I should’ve told her from the beginning.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Because she was pregnant. I was afraid she would think I was only marrying her to get the inheritance. I didn’t want her to say no.” Andre shook his head and lifted his gaze back up to the memorial stone. “Because of my selfishness, we lost our baby.”
“Wait…” Julian’s voice leaped up an octave. “Are you telling me that you think Tasha’s miscarriage was a direct result of you not being forthcoming with her? That it was karma?”
“Precisely.”
“Andre, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Julian’s tone was short. “It seems to me that you feel you’ve misled your wife, and now you want to come clean and tell her about the terms for you to inherit the Renault fortune, but you’re afraid she’ll still leave you.” Julian looked at Andre and laughed.
“Do you doubt that she won’t?”
“No.” Julian shook his head and laughed. “My money’s on her dumping you.”
American idioms. Camille and Tasha were wearing off on Julian.
In the garden, Cecily held her breath while listening to Julian give Andre a pep talk. She didn’t dare breathe for fear that they’d discover her on the other side of the hedges.
Based on what Cecily was hearing, this was the evidence she’d been waiting for. This was her proof that Andre had indeed kept his wife in the dark. Dealing with a bought wife probably would’ve been easier. Valid marriages could be hard to break up—unless one party was hiding something from the other. Something like marrying them to inherit a large fortune. Tasha de Laurent wasn’t going to take this lightly. And if Cecily played her cards right, she would convince the woman that her marriage was a farce.
The hedges began to ruffle, and Cecily rushed to the closest wall and rounded the corner to hide. Standing with her back against the shrubbery, she didn’t dare peek around the corner for fear of being discovered.
She couldn’t be found out now, not when she finally had the advantage. Cecily had some planning to do. It might take her a couple of weeks to figure out exactly what to say to Tasha, but once she did, Cecily knew it would be the first step to claiming the Renault fortune as her own.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BEFORE CECILY HAD ACCEPTED THE JOB as Julian and Camille’s nanny, her initial plan had simply been to break up Andre’s marriage. But now that she’d been living among them for a few months, she thought better of it. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Andre, or cared about his or his wife’s feelings. It’s just that she’d decided he was more likely to give up one thing in exchange for another, rather than being forced to lose both. Today was the day Andre de Laurent wo
uld have to make a choice.
Cecily canvassed the hallways of Pacifique de Lumière, searching for him. Thunder roared overhead. It didn’t surprise her. When she’d come up to the main house in the golf cart this morning, the cloud cover overhead was suggestive of an impending storm. Fitting, she thought, since she was about to rain on Andre de Laurent’s parade.
On the ground floor, she found him. “Oh, Mr. Andre,” she called to him as he was about to head into the stairwell that led to the garage. “Might I have a word?”
Andre glanced over his shoulder. “Miss…” he said, and then waited for her name.
Why would he know her name? She was just a servant in his eyes. “Cecily. Please call me Cecily.”
“What can I do for you?”
She pointed to the small salon on the right. “May we speak in private?”
“Sure.” Andre opened the door and gestured for her to go inside.
He followed her into the salon, but didn’t close the door. She looked at it and waited for him to close it. She didn’t need any busybodies listening in. Finally, he got the message and shut the door.
Cecily glanced at the three large windows evenly spaced along the western wall. Outside, the sky had darkened.
Andre crossed his arms and looked at her. “All right. Why all the privacy? What can I do for you?”
“Well…” She hesitated and then met his eyes. “You and I need to come to an understanding.”
A flash of lightning lit up the darkness outside.
“Is that right?” He all but laughed. “And just what do we need to understand?”
Thunder rattled the old house.
“Well, it’s kind of complicated.” From out of nowhere, a bout of nerves hit her full blast. Breathe deep, Cecily, she told herself. She had the advantage. There was no way Andre could win, considering what she knew about his marriage.
“I’m sure you can find those well-practiced words somewhere inside the scheme you’ve concocted.”
The first patters of rain pelted the windows.
Smug bastard. “Yes.” She lifted her chin. Those damned de Laurents had always been witless and cruel. “Yes, I can.” She nodded to give herself time to corral the insulted feeling coursing through her. “What it all comes to, is this…” She cleared her throat. “You are going to give up your claim on Edouard Renault’s fortune.”
Lightning flashed and thunder roared overhead. The sky opened up and poured bucketfuls of rain against the windows.
Amusement danced across Andre’s eyes. Nothing happening outside bothered him. Not the lightning. Not the thunder. Not the rain. “What is this? Some kind of joke?”
“Not hardly.” She hoped she held her face straight enough to hide the jitters rolling around inside her stomach. Maybe it was the weather. She certainly wasn’t afraid of Andre de Laurent. “In two weeks’ time…” She sucked in a breath and went on with her plan. “You will relinquish your claim on the inheritance and turn it over to the heirs next in line.”
“And I’m guessing that you know that’s not my brother or sister.”
Another intense glare through the window preceded a stunning roll of thunder. She nodded.
“So you want me to walk away from not only my inheritance—” Andre shook his head. “—but my brother and sister’s, too?” Andre tossed his head back and laughed.
The rain continued to fall, steady and ceaseless.
“You’ll do it.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“If you want to keep that wife of yours, you will.”
“Just leave my wife out of this.” He drew his elbows in and held them tightly against his sides.
“I would…” Cecily gave him a wide grin. “Except that your inheritance depends upon her position in your life.”
“Why don’t we get to the point?” Andre suggested.
“All right.” Cecily squared her shoulders. “If you do not relinquish your claim to the Renault fortune within two weeks time, I will share your secret with your wife.”
Diffused lightning heralded the distant roar of the storm. The weather outside might be clearing, but the one inside was far from over.
“And what secret is that?” Andre’s tone remained calm, even as the beads of perspiration peppered his brow line. Did she know something or was it just a bluff?
“That you didn’t tell her about the conditions under which you’d inherit your late uncle’s fortune when you married her.”
Shit. Would she really tell Tasha? And if so, why? What good would it do her if he stepped aside? “Why is it so important to you that I relinquish my claim?” Then it hit him. Cecily. Cecily was also the name of his distant cousin who would inherit if he did not meet the terms of the will. Andre glanced at the windows, rain splatters and fog on them made it hard to see outside. He looked back at the woman who’d just tried to blackmail him. “You’re Cecily Garceau.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“You’re a bright one,” she said pointedly. “Since yours is not an arranged marriage, I believe you’ll want to keep your wife over the inheritance.”
“Well, Cecily…” He stepped toward her and reached for her arm. “You’re right.” He latched onto her elbow, tightly, and guided her toward the door. “At least about the part about me wanting to keep my wife.”
Andre directed her into the hallway and stopped. Still holding onto Cecily, he fished his cell out of his pocket and hit number two on the speed dial. Simon had been relegated to number two after Andre met Tasha, before that he was number one.
Simon answered immediately. “Yes, sir.”
“Simon, I’m on the first floor, heading to the garage. Come at once, and bring George and William with you,” he instructed. “And speak of this to no one.” Andre looked at the phone and said, “hurry,” before disconnecting the call.
“What are you doing?” Cecily tried to twist out of Andre’s hold. He tightened his grip. She ordered, “Let go of me.”
“Not a chance.” He shook his head.
“I demand that you release me.”
“You will be released once you’re outside the gates of Pacifique de Lumière.” Now that he knew who she was, it gave Andre great pleasure to remove her from the estate. How dare she try to blackmail him?
“Now?” Fear darkened her cold gray eyes. “You’re evicting me now?”
“You catch on fast.” He threw her own line back at her.
“But I live in the caretaker’s cottage.”
“You did.”
“What about my things?”
“Leave an address with Simon. Your belongings will be delivered to you within the week.”
“What about my husband?”
“Please, take him with you.”
“But he’s at work. He won’t be home until the evening.”
“Then you’d better call him.” Andre nodded. “If either of you come to the gates of Pacifique de Lumière, you will be arrested.”
“For what?”
“Don’t worry.” He winked. “We’ll think of something.”
Simon, George and William rounded the corner. Andre handed Cecily off to his valet. “Remove her from the premises. Take her to Marseilles and drop her off at a local hotel. If she has no prospects, put her in one of our properties. The main thing…” Andre perched his finger in the air. “Neither she nor her husband are ever to set foot on the grounds of Pacifique de Lumière again.”
The rain had stopped and the storm had moved on, but the evidence was still there. Everything outside was wet and a few ominous clouds still hung in the sky. Andre took it as a sign to proceed with caution where Cecily was concerned. One word from her and his whole world could collapse.
He put off his trip into Marseilles, opting instead to go into the east salon and have a drink to calm himself. He needed to find Julian or Camille right away and let them know that he’d fired their nanny.
Once on the second floor he found the salon empty. Good. He
charged to the bar on the other side of the room. The nerve of that woman. He latched onto a bottle of scotch and yanked off the stopper. He poured himself a generous three fingers and reattached the bottle’s plug.
He’d have to find a way to make sure Cecily didn’t get to Tasha. Perhaps they should take a trip, leave Marseilles for a while. He kicked back the scotch. The liquid warmed him all the way to his gut.
“Andre…” Camille’s voice came up behind him. He peered over his shoulder, setting down the glass. When their eyes met, she said, “Have you seen Cecily?”
Andre swallowed around the knot budding in his throat. Firing Julian and Camille’s nanny was one thing, gaining their approval for it was another. He pointed to the bar, “You’d better have a drink.”
“Uh oh.” She cut him a sideways glance and reached for the door. “I have a feeling I’m not going to like this.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to hate it.”
Camille closed the door. “Maybe you’d better tell me what you know,” she said, moving toward him.
Andre killed time by pouring her a drink. He offered the glass and she took it, but didn’t take even a sip. She just stood there waiting for him to tell her what was going on.
He poured himself another drink and downed it. The glass made a clicking sound when he set it down on the bar. He looked at her. “I fired your nanny.”
Camille’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“It had to be done.”
“What do you mean it had to be done?” She’d found her voice again, and it was demanding answers.
“Her name is Cecily Garceau Mason.”
Andre could practically see the wheels turning inside Camille’s head. She was trying to figure out where she’d heard that name.
“She was at Edouard Renault’s funeral.” He nodded. “She and her brother will inherit the entire Renault fortune if I fail to meet the terms of the will.”
Billionaire Games Boxed Set (The Marriage Bargain, The Marriage Caper, The Marriage Fix) Page 31