THE DUKE’S MATCH GIRL: A Christmas Fiery Tale Novella (Fiery Tales Series) (13 page)

“DO YOU WISH
me to pour the perfumes into the bottles?” Nicole asked. The daughter of the cook had kindly offered to help Suzanne with the perfumes in the greenroom.

It was Christmas Eve.

And Suzanne was a knot of emotions. She was anxious. Saddened. And more than a little confused by Leo.

She was possibly leaving—in a day.

And once again, the weather conditions were conspiring against her. Unseasonably warm days had melted away the snow. Then, late yesterday, a cold wind had swept in, hardening the ground.

Making it possible to travel back to Maillard. With ease.

After spending four glorious days and nights with Leo and his beloved family, in truth she didn’t want to leave. She’d enjoyed every minute of her time with Leo’s sisters and their children. Bouncing Elisabeth’s son, two-year-old Thomas, the future Marquis de Tabard, on her knee, made her happy. And made her long for a child of her own—Leo’s child—more than she could ever admit.

And then there was her time with Leo.
Pure magic
. More heaven than any one person had a right to on this side of the sun. If he wasn’t whisking her off to make love to her, he was taking her for walks around the grounds of Montbrison, asking her questions about her matchsticks.

He’d always shown interest in her love of science in a way no man, besides her father, ever had.

This was the first day since Suzanne’s arrival that she’d been free to make the perfumes she’d promised him for Elisabeth and Aurore. And she was having a difficult time focusing.

“
Suzanne?
”

Nicole’s voice yanked her from her reverie. “Hmm?”

“Did you want me to pour the perfumes into the bottles?” Nicole repeated. About five years Suzanne’s junior, Nicole’s blonde hair and blue eyes were a sharp contrast to Suzanne’s own dark coloring.

“Yes, please do.” She smiled.

She couldn’t make any sense of Leo. He’d said he loved her. He’d said he wasn’t going to leave. And to trust him.

Yet, he spoke nothing, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, about wanting her to remain in his life past Christmas day.

In any capacity.

What was she to make of that?

She didn’t want to believe that he’d lied to her again. She didn’t want to delude herself into thinking she meant more to him than she did. The sensible thing was to talk to him. She was running out of time to tell him what was on her mind. And in her heart. The plain, unarguable truth was—she was utterly in love with Leo d’Ermart.

She’d completely failed in guarding her heart. And she’d come to realize that she was incapable of having sex with him without soft emotions being involved.

It was already nightfall and Leo had been busy all day. Official matters relating to his duchy, he’d said. She needed to speak to him. Right now.

Before she lost her courage.

Suzanne yanked off the apron she’d donned and tossed it onto a table. “Nicole, I’ll be back shortly.”

If her time with Leo was done, then she intended to part from him with as much dignity as she could muster. She’d get through the heartbreak somehow. But she had to know…

Suzanne raced to Leo’s study, her heart pounding the entire way.

Stopping in front of the door, she took a fortifying breath, then forced herself to knock.

Gilles, Leo’s trusted man, answered the door, unbalancing her for a moment.

“Is the duc here?” she asked.

“Yes, but he is indisposed at the moment, I’m afraid.”

Quickly, she stepped around Gilles, and found Leo seated at his desk.

“I need to speak to you.” Dear God, he looked so devastating in his black-and-gold justacorps. She wondered how many lifetimes it would take for her to stop loving this man. Why did he have to be so perfect and so out of reach?

He rose. “I’m afraid I can’t at the moment.” He walked around his desk and toward the door. “We’ll talk later, Suzanne.”

She watched as Gilles open the door wide to allow Leo to walk through first.

“I cannot be your mistress,” she blurted out. Surprising herself.

Not to mention Leo.

He arrested his steps, turned and jerked his chin at Gilles, a silent command for the man to leave.

Gilles immediately complied, closing the door behind him.

“You were saying?” Leo prompted. His features were schooled. She couldn’t read much into his question.

“I… I, well…” She swallowed, flustered, and tried again, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. At the moment, she wished she were a poet rather than a scientist. They were far better at flowery declarations of affection, than she. “I just wanted you to know that I don’t want to be your mistress—not that you ever asked me to remain as such. But… But we never truly discussed the future…” How pathetic was she? She was utterly bumbling this, while every fiber of her being hoped that Leo would have something miraculous to say that would alter her plan for leaving Montbrison. “I-I wanted you to know how I…my thoughts.” Perfect. She sounded like a rambling idiot. So much for leaving with dignity.

He said nothing. His expression still gave away nothing. Uneasy, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying not to fidget, then tugged on her ear once before dropping her arm to her side and smoothing her skirts.

She couldn’t have made this any more awkward if she had planned it. At this point, she had nothing to lose. She might as well speak the rest.

“I will not deny how happy you make me. How much joy I feel with you. And that I-I… Rather… I love you.” There. She’d said it. “I will be forever grateful that I have known you, as in knowing you, I have known what it is to feel true bliss. But I cannot be your mistress, if that is what you were perhaps considering. I cannot exist on the fringes of your life while you marry and sire children with another.”

He crossed his arms and tilted his head. For an instant, she thought she saw a ghost of a smile. But it was so fleeting, she wasn’t certain it had been there at all.

“There you go, underestimating me again,” was all he said.

And with that, he simply turned on his heel and walked out.

THE HOUR WAS
midnight.

Suzanne made her way to the Grand Salon in Montbrison, Leo’s note in hand. He’d had the note sent to her chambers, requesting that she meet him in the large elaborate room.

She’d no idea why. And after the disastrous conversation she’d had with him, she wasn’t certain she wanted to find out.

Part of her was she was still irritated with him for his ambiguous response. It wasn’t easy for her to bare her emotions like that—no matter how clumsily done. Didn’t he realize that?

He could have been more forthcoming. As things stood, she was still leaving soon.

Her spirits were low by the time she reached the door to the Grand Salon, the room that was used for balls and masquerades. Surprised, Suzanne was greeted by Nicole, who’d clearly been waiting for her.

“Good evening.” Nicole smiled.

She forced a look of gladness she didn’t feel. Each minute brought her closer to the moment she’d have to leave her home, Montbrison. For good. “Good evening, Nicole.”

Nicole handed her a set of Suzanne’s own matchsticks, surprising her yet again. “The duc has requested that upon entering the Grand Salon, you are to light the matchsticks and walk to your left six paces.”

She blinked. The hour was late.
Six paces?
“What on earth is happening, Nicole?”

“I’m afraid I cannot say.” She stepped away from the door and opened it for Suzanne. Inside the massive room, it was pitch dark. Just a blanket of blackness where she couldn’t see a thing.

What was Leo up to?

Suzanne stepped in. The door closed behind her, enveloping her in the dark. She struck the matches, and turned left. In six paces, she saw a table emerge from the darkness. The moment she reached it, her matchsticks burned out. But she’d seen another set of matchsticks and a candle on the table.

She reached for it in the darkness, grasped her matchsticks, and lit the candle.

Before her, basking in the orange hue of the candlelight, was a stunning table, fully dressed with elaborate table linen, crystal bowls, and gold service. A table set for a number of people.

And on the table was a simple note, written in Leo’s familiar hand. It said,
A feast for later. Ignite the matchsticks and walk ten paces toward the center of the room.

Clearly, Leo had obtained the matchsticks from her rooms. Curiosity over what Leo was about gripped her.

She complied, and then came upon another table. She lit the candle on it and took a closer look at the parchments covering the surface. They were architectural drawings of a building.

When she picked up the note on the table, it read,
A new school of medicine to be built in honor of Richard Matchet, for those physicians who would like to follow in the footsteps of greatness. His beautiful daughter, a welcome teacher, whenever she chooses to share her bright mind and medical knowledge.
The handwriting unquestionably belonged to Leo.

A lump formed in her throat.

This was beyond generous and something her father would have been thrilled by. And she’d be a teacher in her father’s school... “Turn around and strike another matchstick.” Leo’s voice made her jump.

She spun around and found herself staring into darkness. Grabbing another set found on the table, she ignited them.

Matchsticks suddenly burst into flames all around the perimeter of the Grand Salon, as servants illuminated the large room by lighting the candles on the tall silver torchères.

It was then she saw that Leo stood in the far corner, his family seated behind him. And they smiled. Large happy smiles.

She approached, a thousand questions whirling in her head.

“Suzanne Matchet, I do not want you as my mistress,” he announced out loud.

Her gaze shot out beyond his shoulder at his family. Her cheeks flushed instantly. She had not expected that out of his mouth before his family.

What in Heaven’s name was he doing?

“I do not want you to live on the fringes of my life,” he continued. “Years ago, I was forced to rearrange my life without you. I don’t wish to do that anymore. You are the woman I was born to love. And I…” He lowered himself onto one knee before her. Her heart lost a beat. She began to tremble as she realized what he was about to do. “…I am the man you were meant to marry.”

Tears rushed to her eyes. His cherished face blurred just before her tears began to spill down her cheeks.

A smile tilted the corner of his mouth. “I want to give you the world. Lay it at your feet.”

Oh God
. This was a dream.

One she didn’t want to awaken from. Ever. It was too good to be true.

“And what…what do I give in turn?” she asked, her voice cracking with emotion. He was wealthy beyond measure. She had no inheritance or dowry.

His smile grew. He rose and approached. Stopping before her, he slipped his fingers under her chin. “Simply
you.
To me, you are my world.”

She was shaking now. “You did all this for me?” Reeling, she gestured around the room.

He gave a nod. “It kept me busy most of today, especially with my meeting with the architect.” He ran his knuckles along her cheek. “What say you? Will you marry me?”

Her smile must have been enormous. She flung her arms around the only man she had ever loved. The one made just for her. “Yes! I love you… I always have.” More tears of joy spilled from her eyes.

Applause thundered in the room from the many servants and Leo’s family.

Her soon-to-be family. This was the best Christmas Day of her life. She couldn’t shake the feeling of her father’s presence around her. And she knew Leo had planned the elaborate celebratory dinner waiting in the corner of the room, the medical school, and the proposal for this very day.

To replace the heartbreak that came on Christmas Day seven years ago with a cherished memory she would never forget.

And she adored him for it.

Leo cupped her face and smiled. “And I love you. You are my favorite holiday present. I promise to provide you with champagne and iced cream any time you’d like. And I will love you until the stars burn out.” Then he kissed her, softly. Sweetly. Full of promise, passion, and everlasting love.

IT WAS ON
a wintery New Year’s Eve they say when the Duc de Mont-Marly married his beloved Suzanne Matchet. Not in a quiet chapel in the country, as you may think.

But in the great city of Paris, for all to see, from princes to paupers.

By the next Christmas, they had joyfully welcomed a baby boy, who grew to have his father’s dark hair and wickedly beautiful light green eyes. They called him Nicolas.

Just as the duc willed it, nobility accepted his duchesse. Though her title commanded respect, it was her bright mind, wit, and disposition that won their hearts.

Just as she’d won the heart of the most celebrated rake in the realm.

All the prestigious salons in the city enthusiastically welcomed her, where the intellectual elite—aristos, poets, and scientists, grammarians, writers, and philosophers—gathered to discuss and debate science and art, philosophy and books. All were impressed with the duchesse’s repertoire of knowledge—while the Duc of Mont-Marly looked on with pride.

And so it has been said that there was an irony to this romantic tale between these two lovers whose destiny was written in the stars.

You see, the Duc and Duchesse de Mont-Marly didn’t need those matchsticks to warm their home, or light up their lives. In fact, over time, the matchsticks were quite forgotten.

Theirs was a love that burned bright, and spanned decades.

And they lived happily ever after…

Antechamber
—The sitting room in a lord’s or lady’s private apartments (chambers).

Caleçon
s
—Drawers/underwear.

Chambers
—Another word for private apartments. A lord’s or lady’s chambers consisted of a bedroom, a sitting room, a bathroom, and a
cabinet
(office). Some chambers were bigger and more elaborate than others. Some
cabinets
were so large, they were used for private meetings.