The Price of Deception (5 page)

His half interest in the shipping business, which he
had purchased before he married Suzette, had proven to be a wise
investment. He possessed a home comfortably staffed with a cook,
two maids, and a governess.

When the cab slowed, Philippe couldn’t shake a sense
of unwelcome change in the future. The driver pulled back the reins
on the horse until they came to a complete stop. Philippe didn’t
wait for him to open the door. He flung it wide, pulled Robert into
his arms, paid the fare, and headed for the front stoop.

Once inside, the maid greeted his arrival. Philippe
set Robert down in the foyer.

“Monsieur, you look a fright! Is everything all
right?” His maid creased her brow in a worried fashion over his
obvious frantic state.

Philippe fidgeted with his gloves and tore them off
his hands in nervous frustration. “Yes, yes,” he mumbled. “Just in
a hurry.”

He glanced down at Robert and noted his worried gaze
too. Clearly, he sensed something odd in his animated behavior.
Philippe took a deep breath to calm his jitters and knelt down in
front of the boy.

“Run along now and go play in your room for a while,
Robert.” The lad clutched his father around his neck and gave him a
tight hug. Philippe smiled over the gesture and with a small pat on
the behind gave him a friendly scoot.

He watched Robert run up the stairs to his room, with
the knowledge that he had stolen something that belonged to another
man. A pang of misgiving over the wisdom of hiding the child’s
existence made him shuddered. His gut churned as the worry of his
deception loomed like a mountain before him. The strong, determined
man that Philippe Moreau had evolved into a few years ago, suddenly
felt weak and vulnerable.

He turned to his maid. “Where is my wife?”

“In the parlor, Monsieur.”

Robert handed his gloves and hat over to her, and
then walked down the hallway to the right and entered a small
parlor ablaze with the afternoon sun. As his gaze rested upon his
wife, the air sucked from his lungs at the vision of beauty that
met his eyes. The rays danced off her auburn tresses in the
sunlight.
Beautiful as ever
, he thought. Nothing had
changed, except for one small addition—their newborn daughter.

He stood in silence, afraid to speak his next words.
Slowly, he stepped inside and embarked on a most unpleasant
task.

Chapter Four

Suzette spent her time alone as a welcome reprieve.
Her husband had an uncanny sixth sense when it came to her needs to
recuperate on certain days. He probably noticed that morning she
felt out of sorts.

Only two months earlier she had given birth to their
first child, a baby girl named Angelique. The delivery had been
extremely difficult, with long, tedious hours of labor, and the
loss of more blood than the physician cared to see in the
afterbirth. It had drained Suzette physically and mentally.

On this particular morning, Philippe decided to take
little Robert on a walk. Their son had exhibited a short temper
lately, and Suzette and Philippe attributed his rash behavior to a
bit of jealousy over the new arrival in the home. Perhaps some
undivided attention between father and son would help with his
feelings of neglect.

After morning tea and toast, she put on an apron and
headed outside to enjoy the fresh air. Even though they had a
gardener to tend to the grass and trees of their upper class
residence, Suzette wanted to nurture a small plot of flowers by
herself. Lilies reminded her where she had come from and the trials
of her past. They held in their beauty the hope that life would
ultimately bring her the contentment she sought.

After a half hour in the morning sun, she went
indoors, washed her hands, and asked for another cup of tea.
Suzette headed to the parlor and a delightful book, written by her
favorite English author, who treated her to times of female
fantasy. She took a seat by the window to soak up more sun and
opened the volume to the placeholder and began reading.

“How is my beautiful wife?”

Philippe’s voice startled her, and she looked up at
him. He stood in the doorway with an agitated look upon his
face.

“What are you doing back so early?” she asked,
annoyed. A few more hours to enjoy before the house became busy
again would have been diverting.

“Suzette, I need to speak with you.”

Suzette sighed and closed her book. Philippe looked
pale. Immediately, she knew by his unusual demeanor that something
had to be wrong.

“
I need a word in
private.”

Philippe closed the sliding doors to the parlor until
they met tightly together. Suzette looked at him in confusion.

“I don’t understand why you’re acting so strangely,
Philippe.” She stood to her feet and walked toward him. He remained
silent and pulled her into his arms and held her tight. Afterward,
he released her with a frown upon his face.

“Come sit with me a moment,” he beseeched.

“Philippe, what is it? You’re frightening me.”

They settled on the divan, and Philippe picked up her
hand and stroked it tenderly for a few moments before he answered.
Finally, he spoke with considerable difficulty, sputtering words
from his nervous lips.

“I saw—I saw Robert today.”

He looked into her amber eyes with a solemn
expression. Suzette’s head tilted in puzzlement as she tried to
make sense of his declaration. The only name of Robert spoken for
the past five years represented her son. It took a few moments to
grasp the meaning behind his words.

When the reality sank in, her eyes widened. Suzette
seized Philippe’s lapels with both hands and pulled him toward her
in desperation.

“Where is little Robert?”

Philippe held her hand in reassurance. “He’s in his
room. He’s fine, Suzette.”

Her lungs exhaled a sigh of relief, but her heart
pumped ferociously in her chest.

“Did—did—” Suzette couldn’t form the words. She
wanted to scream the question, but nothing would come out of her
mouth.

“Everything went fine,” he assured. “He asked about
you. Robert did as we instructed. He said nothing and looked to me
for guidance. I picked him up, held him tight, and then told the
Duke and Duchess you died last winter from influenza. He believed
me.”

“Are you sure?” she begged, with her grip
tightening.

“Yes. I hate to admit it, but he looked quite pained
when I told him. I’m sure he believed my words by the way he
acted.”

“What about Robert? Did he talk to Robert?”

“He knelt down and asked him his name and age.”

Suzette gasped as her fears rose from the depths of
her heart.

“My God, Philippe! He knows!”

“No, no.” Philippe quickly dismissed her worries. “I
don’t think he suspects. Really, I don’t.”

“He’s not stupid!” Suzette flung in his defense.
“Surely, he suspects after seeing his blond hair and blue
eyes.”

“Perhaps,” Philippe responded bitterly, clearly
irritated over his wife’s comment. “But there is no way for him to
prove that Robert is his child. It’s my word against his. As far as
he knows, you are dead and cannot confirm any suspicions lingering
in his heart.” Philippe paused and added, “I’m surely not going to
tell him and neither are you!”

Suzette looked warily at Philippe over his bold
command. “Of course, I won’t tell him.” She pulled away from him.
“I don’t want to lose my—our son,” she corrected herself.

“I care about the boy,” Philippe countered, as he
reached out and pulled her back into his arms. “Don’t be angry with
me, Suzette. I only wish to protect what we have together.”

He drew her to the warmth of his chest and held her
tight. His palm gently stroked her silky hair while words of
encouragement left his lips.

“Suzette, I promise it will be all right. Robert will
return to England when his holiday has ended, and that will be the
end of it. You have two children that need your attention—a
wonderful son and our beautiful new baby daughter.”

Suzette pushed her fears aside as Philippe’s comfort
covered her like a warm blanket. His levelheadedness and logical
thoughts brought calm to her life. He had, after all, taken her
back unconditionally. She often felt as if she didn’t deserve his
kindness after her affair with Robert.

They quickly married after he had spirited her away
to Paris in her pregnant condition. He settled into work, and
Suzette assumed the role of wife and mother. At first loneliness
shrouded her life, as she often thought of Robert.

The months preceding the birth of her son had been
extremely difficult. When she left England, under the ruse of
loving Philippe, it broke her heart. She had only done so because
she could not bear to hear Robert’s declaration that he wanted to
leave her instead. It would have torn her to shreds. Undoubtedly,
she would have relented and told him about her pregnancy to keep
him at her side had he pressured her for answers. She loved him
deeply, and her heart mourned the breakup for many years afterward.
Eventually, Suzette buried the past and locked away her
emotions.

Philippe, on the other hand, seemed driven to give
her the best of everything. If truth be told, Suzette appreciated
it. Her experience of homelessness on the streets of Paris had left
her with fears of poverty. It wasn’t long before Philippe prospered
in his business, and he purchased the house where they currently
resided. It gave Suzette a sense of extreme security, which she
clung to with tenacity.

As Philippe held her, she knew she had to trust in
his words. Robert would return to London and all would go back to
as it had been before. Yet Suzette struggled over the possibility
of a different outcome.

“You’re right. I’ve always feared this day would
come, Philippe. Something inside told me one day Robert would find
us, and now it has happened.”

“Perhaps then we should not been seen on the streets
or in public places together for a month or so until we are sure he
has returned to England,” Philippe counseled.

“Yes, that would be wise.” Suddenly, she felt the
need to see her son. “I wish to see Robert.”

Before Philippe could say another word, Suzette rose
and sprinted out the door leaving Philippe alone to deal with his
own concerns. Her actions were perhaps selfish, but she needed to
leave and look in the eyes of the child that resembled his
father.

Suzette climbed the staircase of their estate. Once
upon the second floor, she passed the nursery and stopped for a
moment. Madame Dubois sat in a rocking chair holding their newborn,
Angelique.

Amazed she had finally conceived again, she believed
her daughter, Angelique, had been a symbol of God’s long-awaited
forgiveness. She blamed her years of an empty womb as just
punishment for giving birth to a baby out of wedlock.

Suzette could not be convinced otherwise, except for
one other factor. Philippe rarely visited her bed, not being a man
driven by passion, like Robert who couldn’t keep his hands off her
body. On the contrary, cold logic drove Philippe Moreau. He
relegated intimacy to occasional gratification, but not one of
necessity for a close marriage. Whenever he needed a release, he
would roll over for a quick performance.

Suzette walked into the nursery and gazed
affectionately upon the face of her daughter. She had obviously
inherited Philippe’s genes in tone of complexion and hair color.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and a yawn escaped her petite pink
lips.

“Madame, do you wish to hold her?”

Suzette smiled. “No, you keep her. She looks as if
she’s drifting off to sleep.”

She blew her baby girl a kiss, and then turned back
into the hallway that led down to her son’s chambers. Suzette stood
in the open doorway and saw him sitting in the middle of the
room.

Robert busied himself surrounded by blocks of
colorful, painted wood cut into squares and rectangles. Suzette
watched with amusement. His little hand placed one more square upon
a tall wall erected in front of him. He carefully set the block
down, but its uneven placement caused the entire structure to crash
into a heap. Robert’s face grimaced and turned red. He kicked the
tumbled mound with his foot and scattered the blocks across the
floor.

“Stupid blocks!”

Suzette walked in and knelt by his side. Her son
seethed with frustration, and his innate lack of patience protruded
its ugly head.

“Robert,” she said, giving him a hug. “It was a fine
wall. Perhaps just too tall and that last red block a bit too
heavy.”

“I hate stupid blocks!” he spat. He jumped to his
feet and stomped across the room in a huff.

Suzette sighed and wondered how one small child could
express so much fury. A frown crossed her face, and she stood up
and approached him.

“You needn’t be so annoyed, Robert. It’s just a
wooden block.”

Robert looked up at his mother’s critical scowl.
Suzette felt relieved to see the irritation dissipate from his
face. She put her arms around his tiny body and gave him another
hug.

“Tell me about your walk in the park with Father
today. Did you have fun?”

Robert’s eyes sparkled. “Yes, we did, Mommy.”

“You did?” She grasped his little hand and led him
over to the window seat where they both sat down. “What did you
see? Did you find any birds you like?”

“There were ducks in the river. Father brought some
bread in a paper bag, and we fed the ducks.”

“Quack! Quack!” Suzette made the sound of a duck, and
Robert laughed hysterically.

“You’re funny, Mommy.” He looked up at her with
childlike glee. Then suddenly, as if a spark of inspiration entered
his tiny mind, Suzette witnessed a change in his eyes.

“We saw a man and a lady today, too.”