Sweet Bravado (5 page)

“Please, speak no more of it. It is past and forgotten,” Nicole implored. Besides, he was ahead of her in his assumption that
the marriage matter was all settled.

“But I cannot pass over it lightly. It is of deep concern to me that you have no male protector to demand satisfaction of
me.”

Nicole looked up in startled surprise. “But, my lord, it is yourself against whom you are seeking satisfaction, If I am willing
to overlook what…”

“That is precisely the matter,” the Viscount interrupted her impatiently. “It is not a matter for you to overlook.”

The absurdity of the situation struck Nicole forcefully, and she began to laugh a little hysterically.

The Viscount stiffened visibly. “My dear girl, I fail to see…”

“But, my lord, it is over,” she interrupted him, striving
to interject a note of lightness into his heavy-handed interview.

Valentin did not respond to her effort. “Last night I.believed I had grievously offended the innocence of a girl of gentle
breeding,” he claimed in tones of deadly quiet.

There was a sudden stillness before Nicole replied. “And today?”

“Today, I wonder if my original approach would not have-proven more suitable.”

There was an audible gasp from Madame Lafitte.

“How dare you!” Nicole retorted, outraged.

“Do you still ask me how I dare?” he returned cuttingly.

“You insufferable…”

“Fortune hunter?”

“Get out!” Nicole demanded.

“You forget, my dear, I have as much right as you to be here.”

“We are not married yet.”

“But we will be.”

“Never.”

“In less than three weeks.”

“You will have to shoot me first.”

“Oh no. I have infinitely better plans for you.” His eyes roved over her insultingly.

Nicole turned on her heel to flee the room, but the Viscount caught hold of her arm and jerked her roughly to him. Their eyes
blazed at each other, and then he deliberately clamped his mouth to hers while tangling his hands in her hair. Her gleaming
tresses tumbled from the pins that fastened them. There was a flutter of distress from, the distant corner, but Valentin held
Nicole’s head captive, and she could not move as his ardor increased. A shocked squeal of alarm from Madame Lafitte stopped
him from further transgressions and he dropped his hands from Nicole.

“And now there will be no further question of the marriage taking place. Remember, my dear, in a little while you will be
mine.” And he was gone.

Nicole pressed trembling hands to her flaming cheeks as Madame Lafitte came running to her side.

“Mon Dieu, mon Dieu. Quel sauvage! Mais si beau, si magnifique,”
the little lady exclaimed, torn between outrage and admiration.

“Yes, he is rather a beautiful savage, isn’t he?” Nicole too was torn between outrage and admiration.

“What is to become of you and this
Anglais,
I tremble to think. Nicole,
mon enfant,
never did I dream to witness such a scene before my eyes. Have a care,
chérie,
this affair with your English relatives will come out all wrong if you do not resolve the contention between you.” Madame
Lafitte’s prediction struck fear in Nicole’s heart, as if she already recognized its truth. She had already recognized the
power of his kiss…

Lady Eleanore and Cecily returned late Sunday night after Nicole and Madame Lafitte had retired. The following morning Nicole
hurried downstairs toward the breakfast room, anxiously wondering what Lady Eleanore’s reaction to the news of the Viscount’s
arrival would be. Nicole became aware of conversation emanating from the room beyond, and she hesitated at the threshold upon
hearing Valentin’s name mentioned.

“So Ardsmore is here,” Lady Eleanore was saying as she folded the note her son had left for her.

“Here!” Cecily squealed. “Oh how wonderful!”

“Cecily, remember his
reason
for being here.”

“Is it really settled then? Is Val truly going to marry that… that… person?” Cecily’s voice quivered as if on the verge of
tears.

“If I am to believe this note, Valentin has already spoken to Nicole and has settled the matter to his satisfaction.”

Nicole bristled with indignation and almost stepped forth but hesitated once more as Cecily continued her lament.

“I could cry for Val. Imagine being stuck with that odious creature.”

“Cecily, it is not your place to speak so. She is to be my son’s wife. I know what we both had hoped, my dear. But since it
cannot be, I think you must accept John Til-ford. It will be arranged when we return to England.”

“But I do not wish to marry John!”

“Of course you do!” commanded Lady Eleanore in exasperation. “Will you not help me make the best of this difficult situation?”

Before Cecily had time to reply, Nicole entered the room.

“Ah, Nicole,” Lady Eleanore cooed. “We were just talking about you.”

“So I heard!” Nicole snapped, glaring from one woman to the other.

“Please Nicole, you must not take offense. Cecily has known my son all her life…”

“Yes, and it seems she had plans for him too.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” Cecily asked testily. “He would have been mine if it had not been for that old interfering woman Aunt
Sophie. I always loved Val and I always will and… and I shall always hate you. Do you hear me—hate you! What right do you
have to him, you… nobod.,” Cecily burst into tears and fled from the room.

Both women were silent for some moments before Lady Eleanore recovered and soothed, “It was
most
unfortunate that Cecily forgot herself, but,” she sighed, “I suppose
I should have expected it. She has loved him for so long. I should not have brought her with me.”

Nicole was no longer angry with Cecily. She understood what it meant to love Valentin. Perhaps she was wrong to come between
lovers.

“Your ladyship.” Violet eyes met solemn grey eyes. “Does the Viscount reciprocate Cecily’s feelings?”

“Good heavens, girl, what are you thinking? My son has always treated Cecily with the respect due a young lady living under
my protection.”

“But… if he loves her,” she faltered. “It is still not too late to cancel the wedding.”

“Cancel the wedding! Don’t be absurd.
Naturally,
I had always hoped for a match between the two of them. But Ardsmore has never showed anything but brotherly regard for Cecily.”

Nicole breathed a sigh of relief.

“Besides, we are
quite
aware of what has to be done.”

“Oh yes, I almost forgot the monetary situation which will benefit us all.”

“That subject is closed,” Lady Eleanore replied with a finality that brooked no contradiction.

Attending to pressing business on behalf of the Duke of Wellington, the Viscount did not make an appearance at the Hotel Belmontaine
for some time. Nicole had little time to consider his lack of courtship while her days were filled with wedding preparations—a
whirlwind of faces, voices and duties. Besides the hours spent in fittings and social affairs, there were endless consultations
with a dizzying array of merchants, cooks, servants, florists, bakers and caterers, all clamoring for their share of the monies
flowing lavishly from the Hotel Belmontaine.

Nicole was sleeping poorly and eating almost nothing as the approaching wedding loomed closer. She began to
wonder where the Viscount was and could not shake a sense of foreboding. Why did he keep away? Buried deep beneath the surface
stress of wedding preparations was a nameless fear of her marriage to Valentin. What kind of husband would he make? And more
importantly, what kind of wife would she make for him?

The real fear she could not find the words to express was her fear of Valentin’s demanding masculinity. The picture of him
the night he had stormed into her bedroom lay buried beneath all other thoughts. It lay waiting like forbidden fruit to tempt
her to dark desires she was unaware she possessed.

She would collapse into bed at night and give herself over to the ministrations of Madame Lafitte, willing herself into an
oblivion of sleep that was fitful and insufficient: This state of affairs could not last. Valentin had to make an appearance
sooner or later, and when he came, Nicole was unprepared for him.

On a wintry morning shortly before the wedding, Nicole heard the clatter of horses’ hooves in the courtyard below and suddenly
she was clutched by an unreasoning fear. Her head was splitting from the incessant demands made on her diminishing energies,
and she felt unable to cope. She could not face him!

Voices in the corridor were coming nearer and she heard her name called, but was unable to respond, awaiting her inevitable
discovery. At last there was a knock on the door, and the sound snapped her to her senses even though her nerves were still
strung tight.

The door opened and Lady Eleanore entered accompanied by the Viscount, resplendent in his military garb.

“Nicole, look’ who has
finally
made an appearance! Naughty boy, staying away all this time.” Lady Eleanore took her son’s arm possessively and drew him
a step toward Nicole.

“It could not be helped, ma’am.”

Nicole forced herself to meet Valentin’s eyes. There was no mockery in his steady gaze when he took Nicole’s frozen hand in
his, smiled brilliantly and kissed it.

“You are looking very beautiful, my dear. That shade of blue suits you admirably.”

Nicole realized he was trying to put her at her ease, and she returned his smile and curtsied. “We had looked for you sooner—”

The door flew open cutting off Nicole in mid-sentence.

“Oh Val! I did not know you had arrived.” Cecily stood tall and elegant in the doorway before crossing to him and offering
her cheek.

“Cecily,” he smiled kissing her lightly. “Are you enjoying your stay in Paris?”

“I dare say it shall improve while you are here.” She smiled sweetly in return.

“I am sorry to disappoint you, my dear, but I shan’t be about much.”

“Why?” she paused and turned her glittering eyes onto Nicole. “Oh, you mean the honeymoon. But you won’t be gone that long.
You don’t want to miss all the excitement of Christmas in Paris, do you?” She clung to his arm looking up beseechingly at
him.

“This is not the time to be discussing Christmas, Cecily,” Lady Eleanore suggested. “Madame Dupré has prepared a cold luncheon.
I am sure my son must be famished.”

In the dining room where a light collation of cold chicken and fruit salad was being served, the Viscount was brought up to
date on the wedding plans. It had been decided that the ceremony would be performed at noon at the embassy. Valentin informed
them that Wellington would not be able to attend since state affairs called him elsewhere. They also discussed the reception
which would
be held at the Hotel Belmontaine for those members of English society presently residing in Paris.

The Viscount commented little, accepting his mother’s lead in all matters of social proprieties. However, when Lady Eleanore
mentioned the honeymoon, he interrupted her.

“I think you had best leave that to me, ma’am,” he drawled.

“Very well, Ardsmore. I suppose you and Nicole have matters you wish to discuss privately. Come, Cecily. We shall see you
later my dears.”

Reluctantly, Cecily followed in the wake of Lady Eleanore.

Valentin and Nicole remained seated at the table in silence a few moments. Finally he asked, “Shall we take a walk in the
conservatory, Nicole?”

“As you wish, my lord.”

He offered his arm and led her down the hall to the conservatory in the south wing of the house where the winter sunlight
filtered softly through the glass onto the hanging ferns and pots of trailing fuchsias overhead. There was a marble bench
surrounded by hot-house roses toward which the Viscount guided Nicole who shivered involuntarily as Valentin drew her shawl
solicitously about her shoulders. Drawing her down on the bench beside him he kept his arm about her while she looked up at
him for the first time and their eyes met in silent communication. Nicole was spellbound by his hypnotic blue gaze and feeling
his breath on her cheek, she wished him to kiss her.

“Nicole,” he whispered. Then almost abruptly he moved away from her and stood up leaning against a pillar. “You shouldn’t
look at a man that way, Nicole. No telling what could happen.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“What way, my lord?”

“Never mind. I will tell you after we are married.” He smiled mysteriously and‘her cheeks grew pink. “So let us talk about
you and me and become acquainted with one another.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Valentin gave a quick laugh and sat beside her taking her hand. “You mustn’t keep calling me‘my lord’ if we are to be husband
and wife, must you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Good.” He smiled comfortably. “Now how long ago was it that we last met… the other evening notwith standing.”

“It was eleven years ago. The day of my father’s funeral, my lor—I mean—”

“Yes? Go ahead—it’s not so difficult to say my name, is it, Nicole?”

“Of course not… Valentin.”

He regarded her warmly. “Enchanting.”

Disconcerted by his gaze, Nicole spoke hastily. “I was thirteen at the time and you called me‘that ballet dancer’s daughter’.”

“Oh Lord,” he chuckled. “You must forgive a young man his folly, Nicole; I was only nineteen at the time myself.” He paused,
looking at her intently. “Who would have thought eleven years would bring such changes.”

“You mean in our positions?”

“That among other things.”

“What other things?” she questioned innocently.

He raised his eyebrows mockingly. “The family fortunes, for one.”

“Is it true that much of it was gambled away?”

“More or less. Aunt Sophie’s fortune is rather timely. The inheritance solves a lot of tiresome problems.”

His complacency annoyed Nicole unreasonably. “I must say you don’t sound very contrite, my lord.”