‘Not by me!’ Lisette insisted exasperatedly. ‘I am French. I am proud to be French. And I will not deny my birthplace to suit English société.’
‘But my dear—’
‘Do not “my dear” me!’ Lisette all but stamped her foot in her increasing frustration with this situation. ‘A very short time ago I believed you would put me in chains and lock me away, simply because I am Helene Rousseau’s daughter—’
‘Are you responsible for telling her such a thing, Christian?’ Maystone frowned at him.
‘He did not need to do so,’ Lisette continued impatiently. ‘It was to be expected, when I am the daughter of a known conspirator against your English Crown. Except now I am expected to believe that you will not lock me in chains after all, because you are mon père.’ She gave a shake of her head. ‘I cannot so easily adjust to all these sudden changes in my life.’
‘Nor should you be expected to do so.’ Christian decided it was time—past time—that he intervened on Lisette’s behalf. ‘Madame Rousseau, Lord Maystone, I suggest for the moment that Lisette remains here at Sutherland House with me. That she be given time in which to...to come to terms with these sudden changes in her circumstances so that she might then make an educated judgement as to which life suits her best, England or France.’
‘Impossible!’
‘Impossible!’
At last the older couple seemed to agree on something. Even if it was Christian’s suggestion that Lisette should remain here with him.
It was an impossible solution; he had known that before making it. Wanting something did not make it so.
Just as he knew his reasons for making it were totally selfish ones.
He simply could not bear the thought of losing Lisette, of the two of them becoming polite strangers to each other.
‘Madame Rousseau.’ He turned to look at her between narrowed lids. ‘You knew Lisette had come to my home that night in Paris, so why did you not do more to prevent her from travelling to England with me?’
‘I followed on the next available ship—’
‘Why did you wait at all, when the two of you had argued— I do not appreciate the fact that you struck Lisette, by the way,’ he added darkly.
‘It was a mistake—an impulse— She is so headstrong, I could not make her see reason,’ Helene admitted heavily. ‘I deeply regret ever striking you, Lisette. I only wanted to save you from...from making a fool of yourself, as I did over your father.’ She shot Maystone a scathing glance.
Christian did not wish to begin that particular argument all over again. ‘That still does not explain why you allowed Lisette to come to England with me and then followed her.’
Helene’s chin rose. ‘I came here to take her back with me, of course.’
‘Why?’
‘Pourquoi?’ she repeated. ‘I do not understand...’
Christian sighed. ‘You do not even acknowledge Lisette as being your daughter, so why would you even bother following her and trying to take her back to Paris with you? Why did you abduct her? In order to bring Maystone to you? So that you might kill him?’ Christian continued determinedly. ‘Or was it for another reason entirely?’
Helene’s eyes narrowed on Maystone. ‘He deserves to die. He made love to me then returned to his wife without giving me a second thought, and left me with child!’
Christian’s mouth twisted wryly as he glanced at Lisette. ‘You really are your mother’s daughter.’
Lisette felt the colour heat her cheeks at the memory of the insults she’d thrown at Christian just yesterday.
It seemed so much longer than just a single day had passed since she verbally vented her anger at Christian at the inn in Portsmouth.
So much had happened in the past thirty-six hours that she really did feel at a loss to comprehend it, to take it all in, let alone make a life-changing decision.
Quite what Christian made of it all she did not like to hazard a guess.
He now gave a shake of his head. ‘There must have been any number of opportunities for you to...dispose of Maystone these past twenty years, madame. Why should you feel such a need to make him suffer now? To exact your revenge? To think of killing him? Or was it for another reason entirely that you wished to introduce Lord Maystone to his daughter?’
‘I do not— He is not— Bah!’ Helene threw up her hands in disgust.
Christian gave a rueful grimace. ‘Can it be that, in your own way, you do love your daughter? That you wish only the best for her? Even if you have now realised that best is not with you in a tavern in Paris?’
Lisette looked sharply at the woman who had given birth to her; she still could not think of her as her mother. Helene continued to look at Christian, eyes glittering.
‘I remember the night we all met at your tavern in Paris, madame,’ Christian continued softly. ‘Your threat to shoot me—a habit you really should think of breaking!—if I should even think of laying so much as a hand upon Lisette.’
Colour darkened Helene’s cheeks. ‘You— I— You are an English spy!’
‘At that moment I was only a man looking at your daughter with lustful eyes.’ He shrugged as Lisette gave a shocked gasp. ‘I’m first and foremost a man, Lisette,’ he excused drily. ‘And that night you stood out as pure as a rose amongst lesser, bruised blooms.’
‘Helene...?’ Maystone prompted softly.
‘I do not— I am—’ She broke off, her mouth thinning stubbornly.
‘I believe, despite everything, Madame Rousseau, that you are a mother who wants what is best for her daughter,’ Christian continued softly. ‘You were young when she was born, and no doubt it seemed the best thing for all if she was placed with foster parents. But, from the little Lisette has told me, you went immediately to claim her the moment you realised those foster parents had both died. That is not the behaviour of a woman who did not care for her child.’
Lisette had never thought of Helene’s actions in quite that way before...
She saw now that Christian was right.
She had no knowledge of Helene until that day she came to the farm for her, no awareness that the Duprées were not her real parents. Helene could so easily have ignored Lisette’s existence, and merely thought herself fortunate in no longer having the burden of paying for her child’s upkeep.
Instead Helene had taken her to live with her in Paris. Not an ideal situation, for either of them, but she could see now that Helene had perhaps done her best in the circumstances.
‘You love me...?’ she prompted tentatively.
Helene looked first irritated and then exasperated. ‘Of course I love you, you stupid child! Perhaps I do not have the necessary skills to be votre mère, but I tried as best I could to protect you. You were the one who constantly threw yourself in the path of danger, first with Le Duc and now here again in London.’
‘A habit I have also tried—and failed—to curb, madame,’ Christian drawled.
Lisette gave him a quelling glance before turning back to Helene. ‘You believed that following me to England, arranging for me to be kidnapped and then threatening to kill mon père in front of my eyes, having just discovered who he was, to be an effective way of protecting me?’
‘She would never have shot him, Lisette,’ Christian chided gently. ‘That was not your intention at all, was it, madame?’
‘He—’
‘I am not interested in what he did or did not do twenty years ago.’ Christian spoke firmly. ‘It is here and now that is important.’
Helene seemed to fight a battle within herself for some seconds before her shoulders slumped. ‘I have tried, these past months, to be a mother to Lisette, but I simply do not— The tavern is not—’ She gave a shake of her head. ‘She is not happy there, and I am not happy for her to be there either. Not for the r
eason you suppose, Lisette,’ she added softly as she flinched. ‘You do not belong in such a place; I knew that from the start. I became convinced of it when the Comte took such an interest in you.’
Lisette frowned. ‘If that is true, why did you not simply contact mon père and ask him to take me, rather than go through this elaborate charade to achieve your aim?’
‘Pride,’ Lord Maystone put in gently. ‘I believe, my dear Lisette, that when judging your mother you should also consider my own part in all of this. As far as Helene was concerned, I had abandoned her. She is a proud woman. A strong and independent woman. To have asked me for help now would have been—’ He looked at Helene. ‘It simply could not have been borne.’
‘How can you defend her when she arranged for the kidnapping of your grandson?’ Lisette frowned.
He smiled sadly. ‘I am not defending, only understanding.’
Lisette looked at him with the beginning of a grudging affection; Aubrey Maystone might not have been in love with Helene all those years ago, but he had certainly known her—the woman that she had been and still was.
And Lisette...she could understand Helene’s need, not only for revenge but also for the assistance of the man who had fathered her child twenty years ago.
She understood it, even if she could never have behaved in such a way herself.
‘Helene—’ Lord Maystone spoke again ‘—I promise you I would never have abandoned you, or our daughter, if you had once told me of her existence. I will not abandon you now. Either of you,’ he added firmly before turning to Christian. ‘There will be questions for Helene to answer to the English Crown, but I believe I have enough favours to draw upon to make those questions less...probing than they might otherwise have been. Your brother André was the main conspirator, was he not?’ he prompted Helene.
‘I tried as best I could to continue his work after he was killed,’ Helene stated flatly.
‘Did any of your actions succeed?’ he mused.
She sighed. ‘You know they did not.’
‘You arranged for Christian to be shot!’ Lisette reminded exasperatedly.
‘It was never meant to be a killing shot, Lisette,’ Christian said with certainty. ‘Am I right, madame? You wished only to disable me enough that I must return to England, in the hope I would take Lisette with me?’
Lisette looked round-eyed at her mother. ‘Is this true?’
‘He is far too intelligent, that one,’ Helene muttered.
‘That he is.’ Maystone nodded with satisfaction. ‘I will take it upon myself to explain all to my son and daughter-in-law in regard to the reason Michael was chosen for abduction. After which, I see no reason why Helene should not be allowed to return to Paris. For you to come back to England to visit Lisette occasionally, if that is what you wish. As long as you first make a promise to cease this war against the English Crown,’ he added sternly. ‘And your personal vendetta against me, of course,’ he said with a grimace.
‘And Lisette?’ Helene prompted huskily.
Lord Aubrey Maystone, the man Lisette now knew to be her father, turned to look at her. ‘I believe that must now be for Lisette to decide...’
Lisette looked at the three other people in the room.
Helene, who loved her but was totally incapable of showing that love.
Lord Maystone, who had learned only hours ago that he was her father but already showed a surprising protectiveness towards her, to the extent he had offered himself up to be shot this evening if Helene would only release her.
And Christian.
Christian, of the wicked lavender-coloured eyes.
Christian, of the wicked hands and lips that reduced her to a limp and satiated puddle every time he took her in his arms.
Christian...
A man—the only person here—Lisette knew she could trust completely.
The one she could not bear to be parted from.
A fact she had realised during the hours she had been tied and kept prisoner, when she’d had nothing else to entertain her but her own thoughts. A time when she had realised her heart was breaking at the thought she might never look upon Christian’s handsome face and those wicked lavender-coloured eyes again.
Because she had fallen in love with him.
Was so much in love with him that she had even offered to become his mistress, if he would have her.
An offer he had refused.
But perhaps if she were to become Lord Maystone’s daughter, this English Miss he wished to make of her, then she might still see Christian occasionally?
She did not wish to leave France, but she no longer had a real home there. Only Helene. But Lord Maystone had said he would arrange it so that Helene and she might see each other sometimes and perhaps, over time, the two of them might come to feel some sort of affection and understanding for each other.
Lisette had no wish to become an English Miss either.
Except...
Except this was where Christian was.
Lisette raised her chin, her decision made.
Chapter Fifteen
One month later
‘I hate to say it, old chap, but you have been like a bear with a sore head these past few weeks!’ Marcus murmured conversationally as the two men stood at the edge of the dance floor in Maystone’s full-to-overflowing ballroom.
Christian’s scowl did not lessen in the slightest as he glowered at the young buck twirling past with a glowing Lisette in his arms.
A transformed Lisette, with her fashionably styled red curls and equally fashionable sky-blue silk gown, with matching slippers upon her dainty feet as she danced lightly, and perfectly, by.
She now looked and sounded—he had spoken to her briefly, politely, as she stood at her father’s side receiving their guests—every inch the young English society Miss, with not a trace of a French accent to her softly spoken voice, her manner one of perfect politeness.
Tonight was the occasion of Lisette’s formal introduction into society, Maystone having decided that, in these unusual circumstances, the ‘Little Season’ would suit for an introductory ball far better than waiting until next February or March, when the main London Season would begin.
Maystone had organised everything as he had intended, of course. Helene Rousseau had returned to France a few weeks ago, with the blessing of both her daughter and the English Crown. Maystone had resigned his position, and he now spent his time escorting and introducing his young daughter to England and English society.
There had been much talk and speculation these past weeks in regard to the sudden appearance in London of Lord Aubrey Maystone’s daughter, and many society families had returned to London for a week or two for the sole purpose of attending this ball, and the opportunity to meet and speak with her.
That the evening was a success could not be doubted, no expense having been spared in Lisette’s dress and the beautiful pearls that adorned her ears and her throat, or the champagne and refreshments being served to the guests. Exalted guests, considering there were six Dukes in the room at least; Maystone had invited and made it clear he expected all of the Dangerous Dukes and their wives to attend.
There were also dozens of single young gentlemen literally queuing up to dance with Lisette, or to gather about her when the dancing paused or refreshments were served.
Christian wanted to strangle them all. One by one. Slowly. Thoroughly. Until there was only himself and Lisette left in the room. Perhaps then she might actually say something to him other than, ‘Good evening, Your Grace. I am pleased you were able to attend this evening’, in that very precise and totally un-Lisette-like English voice.
It had been a little over four weeks—four weeks, three days and two hours, to be precise—since Lisette had made her choice to remain in London and reside at
the home of her newly discovered father.
Over four long and tedious weeks—Christian having spent the first frustrating week recovering fully from the wound to his thigh, the following three having been just as frustrating, but in a different way. He had not so much as been able to see or speak a single word alone with Lisette.
Oh, he had called at Maystone House many times once he was fully recovered.
The first time had been in the late morning, and he had been politely shown into the drawing room. Only to then find himself in a room with a genial Maystone and many young and hopeful beaus awaiting the appearance of their young hostess, after having met her the previous evening when she had attended a musical soirée with her father. Lisette had finally arrived, only to ignore his very presence as she sat quietly beside an obviously paternally proud Maystone.
The second time Christian had called it had been in the afternoon, only to learn that Lisette was out at her dressmaker’s and not expected back for some time.
The third time had been in the early evening; a time when he had been sure that Lisette must be at home.
He had been wrong.
Miss Maystone, he had been informed by the butler, had gone to the country with her father, to spend the weekend with their family.
That had not been the last of Christian’s visits; he had called every two or three days after that, but was always informed that Miss Maystone was either not available or was out.
Leaving Christian to conclude, from the number of times he was fobbed off with one excuse or another, that Miss Maystone had no wish to see him, no matter when he should call.
While Christian was pleased for Lisette that her choice appeared to have been the right one for her, he could not help his own feelings of frustration in not being able to get close enough to so much as speak a private word with her, let alone steal a taste of those delectable pink lips that haunted his dreams every night.
Christian Seaton: Duke of Danger Page 19