Glass Slipper (2 page)

Henrí laughed at that and patted his round belly. “You forget, Julien, that there was a time I was thought to be more handsome than you.”

“Oh father, I hardly believe that,” Joséphine said, then blushed at her impetuous remark.

“And very much like your mother in other ways, as well,” Julien complimented her. Indeed, if Henrí had not been so smitten with his late wife, Julien might have had a go at her himself. The longer he stood in this room with Joséphine, the more he began to doubt he would be able to behave as a godfather ought. She did look very much like her mother, who had been a beauty in her time, but she was not as slender, and Julien did love his women shaped more like violins than the bows one played them with. The thought of all that soft flesh under his hands, under his body, her thighs spread wide for him--

“So, what say you, Julien?” Henrí interrupted his friend’s imaginings smoothly, no doubt aware of what they contained. Truly, he must be a desperate man to trust his daughter with a friend whose exploits he knew well. “Can you turn my Joséphine into a princess?”

She looked the part, already. Philipe shared Julien’s taste in women, but Julien doubted this innocent-looking creature would be familiar with the other, more lascivious qualities Philipe looked for in a woman. “I cannot promise you anything, but that I will take her to court and return her married.”

“I am going to court?” Joséphine’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

Julien clucked his tongue. “Not yet. First, a few weeks at my country estate. You must learn how to navigate the treacherous seas of the royal court before you’re thrown in head first.”

She smiled at that, and hid a soft giggle behind her hand. The gesture, wholly unconscious and therefore ten times as alluring, sent blood beating straight to Julien’s cock. He owed his coat a debt of gratitude for hiding his indelicate condition.

“At your estate?” Henrí paled at that, then turned to his daughter. “Joséphine, go at once to pack your things. I must speak to Julien alone again.”

With an obedient, “Yes, papa,” Joséphine left them. When she was gone, it was as if some warmth left the room with her.

“Julien,” Henrí began, utter hopelessness in his voice, “she is my only daughter. She is my—”

“Your treasure. Your pearl, I know.” All girls were some father’s treasure. It was an uncomfortable truth that Julien did not like to dwell on when seeking out a lady’s company, and also the reason he was happy he would never have any daughters of his own. “But you must trust me. I would never do anything to harm your girl.”

“I know,” Henrí admitted reluctantly, for it was not harm that he worried about, and Julien knew it. Better to leave it at that, then, than to dwell on it further. For Julien knew that he would not be able to resist the girl for long.

Chapter Two

“You are going to court?”

“That’s not fair!”

Joséphine hid her ungracious smirk and continued quickly packing her few belongings in the leather satchel that had once belonged to her mother. Father had often told Joséphine the tale of her mother, carrying the only things she owned in the world in that satchel to run away with him and be married. Joséphine hoped it would prove a romantic talisman for her when she went to court. She could not stand another minute in this house with her mother and stepsisters, and she certainly could not bear the thought of going north. If she did not marry a prince—and what lady of marriageable age did not have her sights set upon Philipe, no matter how unlikely a match he was for her?—at least let her marry someone, anyone who would take her away from this dreary place. But if she could have love, that would be the most perfect outcome of all.

Charlotte threw herself onto Joséphine’s bed, while Delphine slithered around the post. “Who cares about going to court, when you’ll be spending weeks with a man like Julien Auvrey?”

Joséphine ignored her stepsister, but a flush heated her cheeks. Though she was not as socially connected as Delphine and Charlotte, Joséphine had heard of the notorious exploits of Julien Auvrey. Usually from tales her stepsisters whispered behind their hands.

“I would gladly go in your place, sister,” Charlotte said with a wicked grin.

Joséphine ignored them. “He is old enough to be my father.”

Old enough to be her father, but he certainly did not inspire daughterly feelings. Joséphine swallowed, remembering the way his dark eyes had roved over her as though he could already feel her naked flesh beneath his hands. He had not looked at her as though it mattered that she was young enough to be his daughter, either.

“If he’s old enough to be your father, perhaps he’ll spank you!” Delphine snickered.

Joséphine bit her tongue and continued packing. She only had to endure a few more hours, at least, and she would be gone from this place. Alone, with Julien Auvrey? It occurred to her that her father might think to send one of her stepsisters—or, God help her, both!—to be her chaperones. She prayed it would not be so, for they could be so terribly embarrassing.

And because you would not be the only lady present to tempt Auvrey. She pushed the thought aside. A man such as him would have plenty of women to sport with. He would not trouble with her any further than to fulfill his promise to her father.

Envy filled her as she looked at her stepsisters. Though she tried to be content with what God had given her, she wished he had given her less. The measly portion he’d bestowed upon Delphine and Charlotte, perhaps. They were as slender and graceful as swan necks. Joséphine often felt as clumsy and enormous as a milk cow, and milk cows were not, in her experience, attractive to men. That was why she stood on the precipice of her very last chance. She could practically feel the winter winds of the north chilling her bones.

With a deep breath, she drew herself up straight and gave the room one last look. Not that she would have forgotten anything. What little her stepmother’s money had grudgingly provided her was already packed. She closed her small traveling case and pulled it from the bed.

“You don’t even have the appropriate dress for court,” Charlotte whined.

“It should have been us he invited,” Delphine added petulantly.

Joséphine’s fingers clenched on the handle of her case. She turned and, reveling in the knowledge that she would not be around much longer to be punished for her words, snapped, “But he didn’t invite you, he invited me. Didn’t he?”

She hauled her case from the room and down the stairs, leaving her step-sisters open-mouthed behind her.

Outside the doors to the parlor, Joséphine halted. While leaving her step-sisters behind to seethe in jealousy was a fun idea, the reality was that she would have to face Julien Auvrey again. Her stomach knotted. She had found him very pleasing, indeed, but pleasing in the way one found a poisonous flower pleasing; beautiful, but thoroughly unwholesome.

It wasn’t that she feared him. What little gossip she’d heard about him reassured her that though he was a notorious roué, he was also a gentleman. He would not do anything untoward or take advantage of her. Any mischief they got up to would be mutually agreed upon, but that did not make her conscience feel any better. More worrying was the humiliation she would face if he did not try to get her to engage in any mischief.

Ugh, this man! She wiped her palms on her skirt, clenching her fingers nervously. Never before had she given so much attention to matters of the flesh. The man had been in her house for less than an hour and she had been more aware of her carnal thoughts than she had ever been in her entire life.

Opening the doors, she caught sight of him standing before the fireplace. The chimney, in desperate need of cleaning, had allowed the barest haze of smoke to remain in the room. It haloed him, and the firelight illuminated the planes of his face and exaggerated the hollows, making him appear more rugged than refined. Joséphine thought the devil must look quite similar leaving hell to tempt virtuous maidens.

She’d rather expected him to smile, or give her a rakish stare, but instead he frowned at the case she carried. “Is that all you’re bringing?”

It took her a moment to regain her mental footing. “It’s—It’s all I have,” she stammered, then fervently wished she had not told him the truth. She did not like appearing as though she were a pathetic urchin from some grim novel, and it troubled her especially where he was concerned.

Thankfully, her father blustered over, giving explanations that were both confusing and untrue to dispel any notion of poverty Auvrey might have had. “Oh, my dear Joséphine has always been a very efficient traveler,” he said with an affectation of pride. “Gets that from her mother, may she rest in peace, who could never see the point in carrying more than two dresses on a trip.”

“The point would be,” Auvrey enunciated slowly, as though her father were an imbecile, “to impress at court, and to be comfortable at my home. There is no need for efficiency, I assure you I will not judge her a fool for bringing what is necessary. And don’t you have a footman to carry that for her?”

Joséphine bit her lip. Her father had but one servant, the old butler, and the rest of them served her stepmother. She wondered how he would talk his way out of that.

As it turned out, he did not. He merely spread his hands in helplessness and gave a weak smile. Julien rolled his eyes heavenward and strode forward, taking the case from Joséphine’s hands.

“Should I go pack more?” Joséphine asked, unsure if she should keep up the ruse or not.

“Do you have more to pack?” Julien lifted one eyebrow in challenge, a smile touching a corner of his lips.

Joséphine shook her head, her cheeks flushing hot. Though he did not appear to be annoyed with her, he seemed to have great stores of annoyance for her father. She’d been embarrassed of her stepmother and stepsisters many times, but she’d never been ashamed of her father, and guilt nudged at her conscience.

“You are leaving now?” her father called after them as Auvrey ushered her toward the front doors.

With a hand on her arm, Julien stopped and faced her father. “Of course.”

Father cleared his throat, his gaze going nervously from his daughter to his friend. “I thought perhaps you would stay for dinner. Set out in the morning?”

At that, a stampede of feet announced the arrival of Delphine and Charlotte at the top of the stairs. Auvrey looked up at their hopeful faces with annoyance, then back to the master of the house. “Truthfully, Henrí? There is much work to be done if I am to present your daughter before the prince, and not nearly enough time to do it.”

“The prince?” Delphine shrieked. “Henrí, you wicked old man! Why won’t you present us to the prince?”

“That is for your mother to decide, I have no hand in it,” Joséphine’s father said, patting the air to urge them to silence.

“Mother will not like this!” Charlotte shouted, her eyes glossing over with tears. “I shall tell her at once!”

“Perhaps you had better go,” Joséphine’s father said, urging them toward the door and the carriage that awaited outside. There was only time for a brief embrace before her father pushed her rather unceremoniously into the carriage.

“Goodbye, papa!” she called as he hurried back to the house, likely to intercept her stepmother before she could come out and demand that her daughters be allowed to go, as well, or that Joséphine stay behind. Looking at the sour face on Julien Auvrey as he climbed into the carriage, she could not decide which fate would be worse.

“Has your father always been this hen-pecked?” He slapped the roof, indicating to the coachman that they should depart, and the whole carriage jerked violently forward, nearly tumbling Joséphine from her seat and into his lap.

“As far as I remember,” she answered primly, smoothing her skirt.

But Julien did not appear interested in her reply. He reached forward and took hold of her skirt. Joséphine shrieked and batted his hand away. She’d heard the man was very forward with women, but she had no idea he would be this forward!