Night of Pleasure (31 page)

He was no longer looking at her.

Madame was quiet for a moment. “Not to digress, my lord, but it
is
a woman’s right not to want children.”

Derek sat up in his chair and glared. “You think it a woman’s right to deny her own husband a son? Or a daughter? Or a family? No, I’m sorry. I don’t agree. She is denying herself the ultimate happiness and, in turn, denying
me
the right to ultimate happiness.”

Madame tapped at his arm that was resting on the chair. “You are looking at it from the perspective of a man and not a woman. You men have so many expectations you pile onto the head of a woman and yet…what expectations do you pile upon yourselves?”

“Begging your pardon,” Derek countered, “but the estate and my entire life has countless responsibilities and expectations. Do you have any idea how many nights I stay up well past three in the morning merely trying to ensure everyone right down to my own servants have everything they need day to day and month to month?”

Releasing a long breath, Madame continued, “Yes, but is it right to demand a child from a woman merely because she has a womb and you have an estate? I think it rather absurd society continues to think so. Not every woman is ready to embrace the power of cradling life. And
that
is what a child is, my lord. It is embracing the ultimate power of having control over someone’s entire life until they are old enough to live it on their own. If your wife does not want that responsibility and power, it should hint to you that she fears taking it into her hands. You must therefore allow her to embrace being comfortable with the power of responsibility before you accuse her of being incompetent of it.”

His brows came together. “And how have I not allowed her to be comfortable with—”

“Allow me to finish, my lord. Do not interrupt.” Madame skimmed the back of his chair, rounding him. “How have you helped her embrace coming into her responsibilities as a woman? Mm? Have you had discussions about how she may recognize who she is and her competence? You demand to know all of her secrets but have you treated her as a friend so that she feels comfortable enough in disclosing them? Have you done
anything
to assist in empowering her into making a better decision as to whether she would or would not be capable of having children? What sort of discussions have you had? Have you introduced her to any children from your family and asked her what she feels about those children?”

Derek glanced up at her. His face flushed. “Well, no…I…” He winced. “No. I never thought of…” He swiped at his mouth, falling into silence.

It was the first time Clementine had ever seen Derek realize his way of thinking wasn’t the only way of thinking.

Madame eyed him. “Discussions are important in making life-altering decisions, my lord. Don’t expect them. Negotiate them. Is there anything else you wish to say before she takes the chair?”

He plastered his hand over his mouth for a long moment before letting it fall away. “Whilst I know I didn’t approach any of this properly, I am not about to forgive that she lied to me. That she planned to be with another after all my years of devotion. I want a divorce, Clementine,” he said in a low, definitive voice. “Because I’m done crawling for someone who has never once crawled for me. I may not be perfect, but I never expected you to be either. All I expected from you was some reciprocation of what I felt. What I have always felt. And you—” He got up from the chair and stared her down. “I will have the servants collect your belongings and have them delivered back to your father along with your three million. Because I don’t need either. I hope you and Nasser are happy.” Averting his gaze, he walked toward the open doorway leading out of the room.

Clementine struggled not to cry. What he didn’t seem to understand was that this was already her crawling. Whilst he was always able to shout about his passions, she could barely whisper it. “Derek, please don’t…”

Madame turned and called out, “You are not done, my lord. She has yet to speak.”

He jerked to a halt but didn’t look back. “Nothing she has to say will change how I feel.”

“Is that so?” Madame tossed out. “Prove it. Stay and listen. If you hear nothing of worth, then you may go and hunt down your lawyers. The end result will be whatever you want it to be.
Oui
?”

Clementine glanced over at Derek’s rigid stance, inwardly pleading he stay. Just long enough for her to share what she knew she should have shared with him last night:
everything
.

He swung back and strode back into the room. “Five minutes.”

A soft breath escaped her. Five was better than nothing. Gathering her skirts with trembling hands, she made her way to the chair and sat. She was tired of hiding from a past she was ashamed of. She had almost forgotten she had a choice to be whatever she wanted and not what her mother had made her to be. She set her chin, in an effort to appear strong.

Derek widened his stance, his features stilling.

Madame de Maitenon peered down at Clementine. Her stern countenance wisped back into a beguiling, elegant French woman. “Do you love your husband, Lady Banfield?”

The woman
would
start with that.

Darting her gaze toward Derek, whose brown eyes intensely held hers, Clementine felt her knees wobble and her soul splash into a puddle at his feet. The way it had when she first saw him seven years ago and he opened a tin of candy, trying to introduce to her a world she had always shied away from: the sting of passion. “I have always loved him,” she managed. “I fell in love with him through our letters.”

Derek startled, his lips parting as he quickly walked toward them, his shaven face flushing to a hue she’d never seen. “
What
?!” He searched her face, his hands going up. “You never once— No. No, no, no. I don’t believe you. Not for one goddamn moment. If you ever loved me, Clementine, then why the hell—”

Madame snapped her fingers at him. “
Faire taire
. Stand away.”

He glared. “No, I’m not—”

“You are
done
.” Madame glared. “She is in the chair. Not you. Did she speak once over your own words?
Non
. She did not. She respected your words by suffering in silence. And now we see what
truly
plagues this union. Do you not understand, my lord, that it is very difficult for a woman to breathe when she is constantly being talked at with such
intensity
? You are dismissing her instead of understanding her. If you want to understand her, you cannot bring your own emotions into this. You must set them aside. Now stand away.
Away
!”

Derek fell back and almost bumped into one of the nude statues behind him. His chest visibly rose and fell as he continued to stare at Clementine.

She knew Derek probably felt more betrayed than astounded by her admission of love. She averted her gaze.

Madame walked around Clementine’s chair, her ivory gown rustling in the newly created silence. “Judging by your husband’s reaction, he never knew you loved him. Which is odd. Women are usually the first to admit to the fluttering they feel for a man. Why did you never tell him?”

Clementine smoothed her hands against her skirts. “I have never been one to say such things aloud. I love my father but don’t ever put it into words. Such words, I find, when tossed out are disrespected. So I prefer to hold onto them. Unlike some people who cannot hold onto anything.”

Derek closed his eyes, his features sagging.

“Ah.” Madame paused, fingering the back of Clementine’s chair. “So Lord Banfield was suffocating you with his love. Much like a child does when it adores its pet. Some men do that. Might I ask, Lady Banfield, why you were able to admit all of this aloud to a complete stranger? Why admit to your love if you are not one to say it aloud?”

She knew why. “Because he is leaving me no choice. If I don’t say it now, I may never have a chance to say it.”

Derek’s eyes snapped open.

Their eyes locked.

“So aside from his suffocating ways,” Madame gently prodded, “what else made you hold back your words of love,
ma chérie
? There must be a reason. Love, after all, is a gift to revel in. Not push away.”

Clementine swallowed, her eyes burning. Maybe if she said it aloud and made it real enough for Derek to understand why she was the way she was, he would finally set aside what he thought he knew and embrace what actually was. “I know love is a gift, but sometimes gifts can be cursed. Sometimes they turn into things we don’t want them to be. And I have always thought it best to keep such things behind a door. So it doesn’t fall apart.”

Madame paused. “I am intrigued. Explain.”

A tear unexpectedly slipped down her cheek. She swiped it away, trying to contain the quaking in her own soul. “My parents actually married in a similar manner. It was an arranged marriage by
their
parents. My father came from an incredibly wealthy family as did my mother. They were expected to join their estates, even though they had so little in common. My father confessed to me that the only thing they ever had in common was their physical attraction to each other. Which is hardly something to build a lasting relationship on. I never knew what he meant by that until I got older but it made a profound impression because everything about my mother involved being physical. I knew my mother loved my father, but she was erratic and irrational. One moment she adored him and did everything and anything to please him and the next she sought to destroy him.”

Her voice wavered. “My father had always been a good looking man. And my mother had always been incredibly jealous when women noticed him. From what I understand, she would terminate servants on the basis of whether they glanced at him. He was always faithful, but she never believed him. So she would hurt him. She would take a fist to him. She would throw things at him and make him feel worthless. It made him drink. Which only made it worse. After she would rage at him, he would try to escape her by going into his room, only she would run through the house and follow. I would…I would run after them and stand outside his bedchamber door crying, thinking my mother was still hurting him, not knowing that their argument had turned into something else: physical pleasure. I didn’t realize what I had been hearing all those years until…Derek pleasured me.”

Derek’s eyes widened from where he stood.

It was as if a weight had been lifted and it was no longer just her burden anymore but his.

Madame’s silver brows came together. “To say so much, and in front of a stranger with a reputation like mine, takes courage. I admire you. Because I know you are saying all of this to try to save your marriage.” Her voice softened. “Allow me to help in the only way I can by making you understand what you grew up with. There are two types of passions that exist in this world: the ones that create pain and drama and the ones that create a bond. Theirs was one that created pain and drama. Many, many men and women use their emotions and their anger to fuel their passion and, in turn, it amplifies their ability to embrace pleasure.”

Clementine stared up at the woman. “I don’t understand.”

Madame sighed. “There are people who crush those they love. It is the only way they can love and the only way they understand themselves and life. I grew up with a father like that.” She was quiet for a moment. “Did your father ever raise a hand to you or your mother?”

Clementine shook her head. “No. Never. He isn’t that sort.”

“But your mother did raise a hand to your father?”

Clementine half-nodded. “Yes. She did. Sadly, it was often.”

“Did your mother ever raise a hand to you?”

Clementine shook her head. “No. Her anger was focused on him.”

“Did she fight with your father in front of you?” Madame pressed.

Clementine swallowed. “Many times. But the governess always either took me for a walk outside or kept me behind another door. She would tell me to cover my ears if I was upset. To keep it out.”

A breath escaped Derek as he tried to meet her gaze.

Clementine knew it was best not to look directly at him given all she was saying.

Madame’s voice remained soft. “Your governess did well in protecting you. Might I ask if there were any times of happiness in your home? Anything worth remembering?”

Closing her eyes, Clementine drifted back to the days she did cherish. Their picnics, ice-skating together, and all of their toes in the sand on the beach in Boston with the wind blowing from the ocean. “There were many times of happiness, yes,” she confided. “I remember them all. It was what my father and I clung to. My mother had the ability to be the most wonderful and charming person in the world. But charm never saved a marriage or made for a good mother.” She opened her eyes in misery.

“You are not as broken as you think you are. And I am about to prove it.” Madame hesitated. “What do you aspire to be? If you could be any one thing?”

Clementine swallowed and met Madame’s gaze. “A stronger person capable of expressing what she feels.”

“Ah. Imagine that. And your husband, whose inherent nature
is
to be strong, which you yourself recognize, intimidates you. But this is where you can help each other. You can teach him to be more humble about his strengths and he can teach you to take more pride in your strengths.
But
…the only way either of you can begin to understand each other is by eliminating all the doubts that have been created.” Those full pink lips curved. “Answer me this: do the blind ever know when a glass is full without touching it?”