The Price of Pleasure (28 page)

“Indeed,” Reed concurred. “Fix yourself a plate. There’s always room for one more.”

Duvall didn’t need a second invitation. He filled a plate from the sideboard and took an empty seat beside Fleur.

“What is your news, Monsieur Duvall?” Fleur asked. “Good tidings, I hope.”

“I just learned that the dowager countess of Hunthurst is holding an afternoon soirée for my countrymen who fled the Reign of Terror and are now living in London. She has great sympathy for our plight.”

Reed set his fork down and pushed his empty plate away. “Grandmamma is sympathetic to émigrés because of our French connections on Father’s side of the family.”

“Nevertheless, I wanted you to know I will be attending and hope to see you there.”

“You know,” Helen said, tilting her head thoughtfully toward the Frenchman, “I see no reason why you shouldn’t live here with us as you used to in the country. You are Reed’s cousin, no matter how distant, and you are renting a room in one of the less desirable sections of London.”

“Oh,
non,
I could not . . . ”

“Of course you can. Isn’t that right, Reed?”

Lisette and Fleur exchanged glances, communicating without words their feelings about Duvall moving into the mansion. Fleur didn’t trust Duvall, and apparently neither did Lisette. Fleur couldn’t explain her distrust, except there was something about the Frenchman that didn’t ring true.

Reed sent Helen a speaking glance that was more censure than approval.

Duvall, however, solved the problem. “
Non, non,
I have no wish to intrude. My quarters are sufficient for my needs, and I am among my own kind. But thank you for your kind invitation. I came to ask the ladies if they require my escort.”

“Since I am attending Grandmamma’s soirée, they will have my escort,” Reed said.

“
C’est si bon.
Remember, I will be available if you need me.” Duvall wiped his mouth with his napkin and rose. “And now I must bid you good day.” Reed stood. “
Non, non,
do not rise, Cousin. I will show myself out.”

Reed waited until Duvall left the room before addressing Helen. “You had no right to invite someone to live in my home without first consulting me.”

Helen shrugged. “It was my home before it was yours. Besides, I happen to enjoy Gallard’s company.”

“Then enjoy it on your own time. If he needs monetary aid, I will help him because we are related, but that’s as far as my hospitality extends.” He pushed back his chair. “Excuse me, I have an appointment.”

Good,
Fleur mused, Reed was no more trusting of Duvall than she was. “Be careful,” Fleur warned as Reed paused at the door and glanced back at her. Then he was gone.

“What was that all about?” Violet asked.

Fleur shrugged. “I merely wanted him to take care. Two attempts have been made on his life and the next one might succeed.”

“Reed can take care of himself,” Helen said, waving her hand dismissively.

“But I will take even better care of him when I become Reed’s countess,” Violet purred.

“I know your aspirations, my dear,” Helen replied, “and I’m sure you will gain what you most desire.”

“Excuse me, Violet,” Fleur interrupted. “Does Reed know you plan to marry him? Shouldn’t it be his decision?”

Though Violet sent Fleur a hostile glance, it was Helen who answered. “Men rarely know their own minds. Reed’s grandmother is anxious for him to wed and produce an heir, and we all know she is partial to Violet. My sister has the proper bloodlines and a generous dowry; she is perfect for Reed.”

Fleur didn’t bother answering. She had no place in this conversation. Excusing herself, Fleur rose and left the room. Lisette followed her out the door.

“Which gown do you intend to wear to the soirée?” Lisette asked as they climbed the stairs to Fleur’s chamber.

“I thought the bronze silk might do since it’s an afternoon affair. What will you wear?”

“The pale pink, I believe. It was delivered just yesterday.”

The hours sped by with uncommon haste. While Lisette chattered away, Fleur’s mind wandered to Reed. She hoped he was taking care of himself wherever he was. Fleur knew it was silly to worry about him, but she couldn’t help it.

After Lisette left, Fleur wandered out to the garden. The weather was especially fine, and the sun felt good on her uplifted face. English weather was not always so pleasant.

Reed found Fleur sitting on a bench in the garden when he arrived home. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said.

“Have you been home long?”

“No, I just arrived. Neither Helen nor Violet seemed to know where you were.”

“Nor do they care,” Fleur added. “They consider me an interloper.”

He sent her a smile that warmed her heart. “I don’t, and I’m the only one who counts. It’s almost time for luncheon. We have a guest today.”

“It’s not unusual to have Duvall here for both luncheon and dinner. Helen quite dotes on him.”

“It’s not Duvall; it’s my grandmother.”

Fleur’s heart sank. As Helen had pointed out, the dowager favored a match between Violet and Reed.

“Shall we go inside?” Reed asked, offering his arm.

Before she could place her hand in the crook of Reed’s elbow, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Fleur should have recognized the mischievous glint in his silver eyes, but she didn’t have time to absorb its meaning before his mouth claimed hers, delving deep with his tongue, setting her body on fire. She savored his kiss a brief few moments before pulling away.

“Stop it, Reed! Anyone looking out the window could see us.”

A dimple appeared in his cheek. “You’re right, of course. I can’t seem to control myself around you.” He extended his arm. “Shall we?”

They found the dowager in the drawing room, holding court. She greeted Fleur warmly. “I’ve come to extend a personal invitation to my soirée for French émigrés Saturday next. Reed can provide escort.”

“I am not precisely family,” Violet ventured. “Am I still invited?”

The dowager sent Violet a fond smile. “You, my dear, as you well know, head the list of women I’d be happy to welcome as Reed’s countess. You are perfect for him in every way.”

Fleur went still, her heart plummeting to her toes. Daring a glance at Reed, she wondered why he wasn’t objecting to his grandmother’s choice of bride for him. Did he intend to wed Violet? Did he have an understanding with her? Had Reed already proposed? What in God’s name was she doing living in Reed’s house, sleeping in his bed, when he already had a bride picked out?

Fleur leaped to her feet. “Excuse me, I don’t feel well.”

As she headed toward the door and the safety of her chamber, Violet called after her, “Perhaps something didn’t agree with you.”

Fleur didn’t need to be reminded that she was an intruder, living with a family who cared nothing for her or her feelings. Never had it been driven home so clearly that she didn’t belong here. She had become Reed’s mistress, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. It was time to leave. She needed to concentrate on her assignment without the kind of distraction Reed provided.

Immersed in her thoughts, Fleur wasn’t aware that Reed had entered her bedchamber until she heard him whisper her name. She whirled, surprised to find him standing behind her. “Go away.”

“I never proposed to Violet,” he said.

“Not yet, perhaps, but you will. If not Violet, then someone like her. It’s time I left, Reed. Lisette and I will move to a hotel tomorrow.”

He reached for her. She whirled away. “Be reasonable, love. I want you here. I’m not ready to wed anyone yet, no matter what Grandmamma says.”

“Yet you want a mistress, and I’m convenient.”

“It’s not like that.”

“What am I to you if not a mistress? I cannot bear any more of this, Reed. I’m leaving; don’t try to talk me out of it. I wish you and Violet joy.”

Reed reached for her again, and once again she eluded him. “No, don’t touch me. You’re not going to seduce me into changing my mind. I’m leaving, and that’s final.”

Reed realized Fleur meant it. Nothing he could say or do would change her mind. He could, however, offer her a safe place to live.

“If I cannot convince you to stay here, where you will be safe, then let me offer you an alternative.”

“Alternative?” Fleur repeated suspiciously.

“Just so. My townhouse is unoccupied at the moment. It would be perfect for you and Lisette. And I’ll even include the servants who were there when you arrived. Updike, Mrs. Peabody, Cook, the footmen and housemaids. They are superfluous here, anyway.”

“If, and I stress if, I accept your offer, I fully intend to pay rent and not just a token fee.”

“Agreed,” Reed said. He mentioned a price that seemed reasonable, that wouldn’t stretch the limits of her income. He held his breath while she contemplated the offer. “The rent covers the salaries of the servants,” he added. “That’s how rentals are usually handled.”

Fleur looked skeptical. “Are you sure? I’m not looking for charity. I have enough money to live comfortably. Once my assignment in London is completed, Lisette and I will repair to my aunt’s manor in the country.”

“I’m not offering charity. I need to find a renter or buyer for my townhouse; it’s as simple as that.”

“Very well, then. We’ll move tomorrow.”

“Stay until after Grandmamma’s soirée,” Reed said. “That will give the servants time to prepare for your arrival.”

“Very well, I’ll agree to those terms.”

“Now that that’s settled, shall we go in to luncheon?”

Fleur shook her head. “I can’t face them right now.”

Reed didn’t press. “I’ll have a tray sent up to you.”

“Thank you.”

Reed hesitated. “Fleur, I . . . ”

“Go, Reed. There is nothing left to say. We both must forget the intimate part of our relationship and concentrate on finding our traitor.”

Not bloody likely,
Reed silently vowed. He wasn’t ready to let go of Fleur.

The day of the soirée arrived. Peg helped Fleur into a fashionable bronze silk gown shot with silver; its high waist, scoop neck and tiny sleeves accented the slim shape of the skirt and her lithe figure beneath. Peg cleverly arranged her hair in a tumble of curls, held in place by a silver snood. At Fleur’s request, Patsy didn’t powder her hair, unlike Helen and Violet, who both sported elaborate powdered coiffures topped by huge ostrich feathers. It was all Fleur could do to keep from laughing.

On the other hand, Reed looked magnificent in a black superfine coat and breeches that molded his muscular torso and legs and other attributes. His pristine linen and meticulously tied cravat were perfection itself. They all waited in the hall for the town coach to be brought around.

The ladies piled inside the coach when it arrived. Reed chose to ride Ebony rather than cram inside the already crowded vehicle. When they arrived, they were announced by the butler. The drawing room was bustling with activity. Judging from the murmur of voices, Fleur deduced that French was the language of choice for the majority of the guests.

They headed toward the dowager, where she presided over the salon from her thronelike chair. Duvall appeared like magic and whisked Helen and Violet off to meet his fellow émigrés. Fleur recognized an acquaintance of Pierre’s standing across the room, and she split from the group to greet him while Lisette gravitated toward a cluster of her countrywomen.

“Monsieur Barbeau, how nice to see you again,” Fleur greeted. “How long have you been in England?”

“Countess Fontaine,” Barbeau said, kissing her hand. “It is wonderful to see you alive and looking so well. I heard your husband . . .” He gave a Gallic shrug. “So many bad things happened. Please accept my condolences for your loss. I just recently arrived in England.” He shook his head. “The turmoil in France is dreadful, just dreadful. Count Dubois and I arrived together. We fled across the channel in the dead of night. I do not believe you have met René. Count Dubois, allow me to acquaint you with Countess Fleur Fontaine.”

Dubois, a haughty young man with aristocratic looks greeted Fleur with a flourish. “Countess, how fortunate you did not share your husband’s fate.”

“You knew Pierre, my lord?”

“
Non,
I did not have the pleasure. Are you French? Somehow you do not have the look of a Frenchwoman.”

“I am English, my lord. I moved to France with Pierre after we were wed.”

Another couple joined their group. As they conversed together, Fleur attempted to judge their character. Were they grateful to England for offering refuge? As Fleur progressed from group to group, conversing, laughing, she began to realize how difficult her mission was going to be.

Many of the émigrés wore masks, not real masks but inner masks that shielded their private thoughts from the world. Could one of them be a spy? Her gaze sought Reed and found him. He was staring intently at her, eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. She didn’t see what had drawn his censorious attention until she realized Count Dubois had attached himself to her as she moved from group to group.