Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (30 page)

~

“The talk is all about the latest, Giselle.” Louisa opened the
drapes, and Giselle covered her eyes against the sunlight. And then lifted her head.

It’s morning
? She slept? Navarre didn’t come?

What new game was this?

“I thought it was a bit much for
Monsieur
Navarre to spend all
his days and nights guarding his brother, but…. Here I am, running
on when I’ve got a bath and ensemble to prepare for you. Come in,
Gerty. Step smartly. See to her, Isabelle.”

Giselle’s mouth opened as Gerty came in
. Giselle watched while Gerty fussed with the hip bath and
nodded graciously at the first wardrobe selection they held out.
The activity about her seemed at a standstill, and Giselle looked
at them for a moment before knowing what it was. They were
awaiting further instruction.
“Merci,”
she said. “That will be all.”

Isabelle and Gerty paused at the door before curtsying and
leaving.

“Now, what’s this about Navarre?”

Giselle shoved off the
bedclothes and watched as Louisa eyed the sheer nightgown she’d
worn. Louisa didn’t ask, however. And Giselle wouldn’t have answered. They both knew she
detested the flimsy attire
.

“It seems your brother-in-law feels the
duc
and his little wife,” she paused at the title, and Giselle looked away, “need to revisit their
privacy. I admit my mouth dropped open when he spoke of it, not
that I was listening at keyholes, mind you.”

“
I would never think that of you. Go on please.”

Giselle didn’t need
another lecture on nosy servants. She needed to
know about Navarre.

“Let me see
…
Monsieur
wasn’t alone. He was announcing his
intentions to anyone who would listen. Seems he believes he has
intruded for too long on his brother’s life. I can’t tell you how those words made my dander rise. Even his sister questioned it.”

“What did she question
? What?”

“Monsieur
Navarre is relocating again to the dower house again.
They think he’s mad. I think he’s mad. He can’t leave Etienne at
Jean-Claude’s mercy.
The reason I know this part is because that
Madame
Esmee muttered it to herself as she passed me.”

“What
? The dowager house? I don’t…understand.”

“You don’t understand
? Why is it you’re dressed in that,
then?”

“It
was the first thing I grabbed.”

Giselle looked down at
herself, surprised for the moment at how quickly the lie had come to her. And how well it left her lips.

“
Navarre moved out last night, Giselle.”

“Navarre? But, why?”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you. It created quite a
stir below stairs, too.”

Louisa let Gerty back into the room with more
water for the bath.

He
listened to her bare
my soul…then he left?
Giselle thought she felt humiliated the
previous day. She’d been naive.

Etienne must have lied
about all of it. He was probably laughing about it in his bed
chamber at this very moment. That was the only explanation for
Navarre’s odd behavior. Navarre hadn’t said he’d abide the
duchesse’s
wishes. Instead, he ran from them.

“You mustn’t dawdle all day
,” Louisa said. “There’s still
a chance to speak with him about it at supper. I understand everyone
will be there. They’ve arranged a dinner party.”

How
would she ever get through supper? With Navarre attending?

“Thank you, Gerty,” Louisa said. “I’m certain the bath is the
perfect temperature for the
duchesse.
That will be all.”

Gerty looked at Giselle for confirmation
. Giselle looked away. She
was incapable of speaking or meeting anyone’s eyes. She had admitted her lust in front of both Navarre and Etienne. She
was mortified. Supremely embarrassed. Ashamed.

“Giselle
? Your bath?”

“Leave me be, Louisa
. Please?”

“Why do you still worry?” Louisa asked. “He may be at the
D
ower house, but it’s only the width of the maze away. He, most
certainly, is preparing to see you again. I can pass a note to him if you like. I’ve been told that if you stay to the extreme left in the maze, you won’t get lost. Not that I tried it — I wouldn’t dare. Still, I’d chance it to get a note to him if you like.”

Giselle shook her head, watching the red on the bedspread
shimmer like it had the previous night in the sputtering candlelight.
There was no point in contacting Navarre. He was
probably thinking up an excuse to avoid her. She couldn’t tell
Louisa of it. She could barely stand to live
through it herself.

“You aren’t going to luncheon, are you, Giselle?” Louisa sat on the edge of the bed.

Giselle turned away. She couldn’t meet her eyes yet, either. “I’m
not hungry.”

“Something horrendous has happened, hasn’t it
?”

Giselle shook her head and concentrated on the ball of material
in her fists.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Louisa, I’m just tired.” Giselle released the bedspread and lay back against the pillows
. There would be no
benefit in sharing her humiliation.

“Very well.”
Louisa sighed and stood.

Giselle imagined Louisa looking down at her, her hands on her
hips, and her lips pursed in thought. She knew she wasn’t far wrong.

“I’ll tell the staff of your new malaise
. But rest assured, Giselle,
you can’t hide from your duties forever. The entire household needs
an example set, and that Jean-Claude needs to be put in his place.”

Put Jean-Claude in his place
? That was laughable. She’d
be as proficient at that as a newborn
kitten. And now, she didn’t even have Navarre.

Louisa hadn’t been succinct. Which was odd. Giselle realized it as she entered
the drawing room later that
evening. She narrowed her eyes on the scene.

She knew she looked like the
Duchesse
du Berchald should.
She’d allowed
Isabelle to curl her hair, although she hated the hot iron and how long it
took. She’d had also donned Louisa’s embroidered stockings, although
no one would see them. She only wished she felt as self-assured as she looked.

Jean-Claude lounged across a settee as if prepared for sleep,
not an eleven-course meal with guests. Esmee looked
uncomfortable. Giselle glanced at the
manservant and narrowed her eyes further.

He looked slack and unkempt
, as well. It wasn’t that his uniform
needed washing or wasn’t buttoned correctly. It was the stubble on his face and
the smirk on his mouth. It was clear Giselle had been neglecting her
duties. She didn’t need Louisa to apprise her of it, either.

“Good evening, Esmee,” she said. “You look elegant as usual
.
I’m
proud to stand beside you and greet our guests. Jean-Claude….”
Giselle walked to the center of the room to look down at him.
“…we’re expecting the mayor this eve. You will retire to your
chamber and dress appropriately?”

To her shock, she saw there were insects moving about in his
wig. Giselle quickly averted her eyes. She’d been told he shaved his head. But she hadn’t known the wig was
a vermin-filled powdered confection. Then again, he’d always been towering above her.

“I’m perfectly aware of our guests, my dear sister…Giselle.”
Jean-Claude lowered his voice after pausing on Giselle’s name, but
he sat up. “It’s just so horribly boring here. Still, I mustn’t
complain.”

She watched him open his little container and use more snuff,
dusting his jabot off after he finished. He was disgusting. She
wondered how she’d ever thought him attractive.

“
I was just telling Esmee she should accompany me to
Versailles when we return,” he continued. “There’s so much more to
do there.”

More lives to tamper with
? More plots to
hatch? More careers to ruin or murders to plan?

“I
look forward
to seeing your evening attire, Jean-Claude. You may be excused.”

He stood, although he took his time, and dwarfed her
.
Giselle kept her chin high as she met his
gaze.

“Do
I detect a rebuke, dearest little
duchesse?”
.

Giselle
smiled tightly. “I’d never aspire to such, Jean-Claude.
Au revoir.
”
She moved sideways to let him reach the door around her skirts. “We
look forward to your presence at supper later, don’t we, Esmee?”

Giselle kept her eyes on his and felt Esmee nod mutely to one
side. She didn’t realize how tense she was until Jean-Claude swept
out of the room.

Once the door slammed, she turned on the manservant
.
“And now you will find a replacement while you, too, prepare for our
guests. You may hope it won’t be a permanent replacement. That
will be all.”

He nodded and walked out quickly.

“Oh, Giselle,” Esmee sounded strange.
“You were magnificent. I swear I didn’t know what to do. I thought
I experienced enough embarrassment when Etienne dined downstairs.
”

“What has Chef Aaron prepared for this evening?”

Giselle wasn’t really listening. She had to think.
Jean-Claude was evil, filthy,
foul-smelling, and something else — he was cunning. She’d spoken out against him already,
and the look in his eyes promised retribution. And she didn’t even have Navarre—.

“Bonjour,
Giselle. You look wonderful this evening. My
compliments.”

As if she’d conjured him up, the moment she thought of him,
he greeted her. Giselle composed her features before turning.

“It’s lovely to see you again
…Navarre.”

What began as a
simple greeting ended on a sobbed note. Giselle barely restrained it.
Esmee was watching, and so was the manservant who opened the
door for Navarre to enter. She had no choice. She looked at him.

He was wearing harlequin red-orange breeches, white
stockings, and a black frock coat. His dark blond hair was neatly
tied back, and a small diamond stick pin sparkled from his snowy
jabot. Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them away. She
knew he was the most handsome man in existence, so why did it
always take her by surprise?

“You’re well?” He bowed over the hand she hadn’t realized
she’d held out.

This
was monstrous. Jean-Claude was due back
any moment Marguerite, Aunt Mimi, and our guests will be
arriving, and she couldn’t even quell the quivers that touched the garters holding Louisa’s embroidered stockings in place above her knees. The warmth of his storm-colored eyes touched hers, and
Giselle looked aside quickly.

“Well enough
.
Merci.”
She whispered
her answer to the blue-flecked wall and found room to breathe again
once he dropped her hand.

“It’s wonderful of you to condescend to join us this evening,
Navarre.” There was strong sarcasm in Esmee’s words. Giselle
watched him walk toward her to bow formally before he answered
again.

“
I wouldn’t have missed this evening for all of France, my
dearest Esmee. Not even for all the world.”

There was a strong lilt in his voice as he said it, and Giselle
pinched her hands together to avoid holding them to her cheeks. She
suspected she was as pale as Bertina’s ghost, and she still had to face all the evening’s festivities.

“I
had no idea you held our fine mayor, Ambross, in such high
regard, Navarre,” Esmee continued. “I placed him in your normal
position beside Giselle. I can have him moved closer to you, if you
like.”

“No!” Giselle said abruptly. Navarre started, and she blushed
when he looked toward her. “It’s too late to change the
arrangements, Esmee, and I’ll find conversing with the mayor
enlightening. Please don’t change a thing.”

To her surprise, Navarre chuckled, then turned back to Esmee.
“It’s all arranged then. Is there a cordial available? I feel parched of
a sudden.”

He poured a small amount of brandy into a snifter and swirled
it to coat the glass and disperse the aroma. The movement looked
sensuous, and Giselle wasn’t certain of the meaning of the word. His long, slender fingers wrapped about the glass stem, then his lips pushed against the crystal, and his throat moved as he swallowed.

Giselle swallowed too, sucking on her bottom lip as she
watched. She was even more thankful he wasn’t going to be sitting
beside her. She was in danger of being mesmerized. It was
shameful, and yet it was exciting, too. She couldn’t look down fast
enough when Esmee cleared her throat.

How was she to get through the evening, and it had barely started
! Years of training in
the
intricacies of proper dining etiquette
saved her. She realized it as the meal progressed. She kept stiffly upright in her chair and acted
the perfect hostess, although Ambross was a complete bore.

But it
wasn’t the mayor that she was posturing for.

J
ean-Claude had usurped Etienne’s place, facing her, and
Giselle caught his gaze on her often. Each time, she studiously
ignored him. She was more than grateful that Navarre wasn’t beside
her. He’d been right. If Jean-Claude suspected how they felt, he’d
have a terrible weapon.

It was a wearisome affair, and Giselle was
relieved when it was finally
over.

They adjourned to the Red Salon for after-dinner drinks
. She
sat with a glass of wine in her hand and waited until she could escape
upstairs. She was worse than weary. She was exhausted. She hadn’t known
pretentious behavior was so draining.

Giselle had acted well, though
. She’d done her duty with an
exactitude that Louisa couldn’t fault. She’d made sure Jean-Claude
dressed appropriately, and that the servants deported themselves
correctly. Everything seemed to be in place. Even Esmee kept up a steady chatter as if entertaining a suitor, and not the mayor.

“
I find the entire affair a waste of my time,” Jean-Claude said,
drawing everyone’s attention to his complaint. “Here I am, the
prodigal son returned, and my esteemed brother, the
duc,
doesn’t
even attend his own gathering and converse with me.”

“Perhaps he hasn’t recovered from his injuries enough, yet,”
Esmee said in the silence that followed Jean-Claude’s remarks.

“
I heard of His Grace’s unfortunate accident. Is he well?”
Mayor Ambross’ many chins waggled as he asked it.

Giselle decided to drink some of her wine instead of simply
holding it.

“You’ll have to ask the
duchesse
that, my good man,”
Jean-Claude said. “I haven’t been allowed in to see him, although Navarre mentioned his recovery this very morning.”

Despite her best intentions, Giselle whitened at the reminder of
Navarre’s desertion. The sip of burgundy pained as she choked it down. She
looked for a place to set her goblet. That had been foolish. She couldn’t
possibly swallow around the lump that was settled into her throat. She’d already proved it during dinner, when she pretended to eat and hoped the mayor wouldn’t notice.

“If
you’re asking of Etienne,
”
Navarre spoke for her. “He’s
recuperating well. It will still be some time before he can join us
again. He has asked for his privacy, and to be alone with his
duchesse.
I believe she bolts the doors.
I’m
certain Etienne regrets
missing your company, Ambross, and I know I speak for him when I extend
the invitation for a later date.”

Although he spoke to the mayor, everyone knew who his words were for. Giselle watched Jean-Claude gulp his wine
.

Some of Navarre’s words had been meant for her, too
. She was being instructed to bolt her doors, allowing no one to enter. Even Navarre.

She
’d forced herself not to look at him all evening, but her
resolve broke. Navarre stood, leaning against the mantel, his
open coat draping to his knees, and the diamond stick pin catching
light from the candelabra. His dark blond hair was pulled
back so severely, it made his nose look even longer. He was avoiding
her glance by studying the liquor in his glass.

He didn’t need to tell her about duty
. It was one of the words she hated anymore.

~

Navarre hadn’t mentioned how beautiful the view was in the moonlight. Perhaps
he hadn’t seen it that way. Giselle shoved the drapes all the way
open and pushed on the window latch, opening it. Her room didn’t
have the full view of Etienne’s, but she saw the side of the valley. It was enough. And if she wanted a better look, she could always go back into his
chamber.

Giselle leaned over the balcony, looking at the
blackness below her. Isabelle had tried to argue with her, but Giselle
had insisted the door would be bolted after the servants left. Henri
had looked up and smiled from his chair in the hall before Giselle
shut and bolted the door.

The pale blue dress she would wear the next day was sent to the kitchens for ironing, but
for once Giselle wasn’t
happy to see Gerty sent off with it. It had left her alone with Louisa.
Giselle knew Louisa expected her to explain things, and she had left
disappointed. Giselle was determined to remain silent.