Tonight or Never (26 page)

The countess had threatened not to show her face again until
Chacun
à
Son
Goût
was back to normal. This caused Lord John to laugh outright, remarking drolly that the house had
never
been normal.

With all the people in the house it was impossible for John and Chloe to keep track of the comings and goings of various people, most notably the
Cyndreac
brothers, one of which John still suspected of being the Black Rose.

The
Cyndreacs
were aware of his suspicion, seeming puzzled and proud of it at the same time. Apparently the young men reasoned they had to cut quite dashing figures to be suspected of being such a man.

This did not stop the notorious brothers from getting into trouble on the half hour, however.

Besides chasing all of the females in residence, the brothers had a knack for causing mayhem wherever they went. In the pantry, one of the undercooks had told Chloe two of the
Cyns
had come looking for a something to eat and somehow dislodged half the shelving on the walls. It had taken the kitchen staff the better part of an afternoon to clean up the mess. Chef
LaFaint
had removed himself from the upset, refusing to prepare the evening meal due to his nerves.

He wasn't the only one.

The upstairs maids refused to enter the
Cyndreacs
' rooms for fear they would be cornered by the frisky youths. John had been forced to speak to the boys about that, feeling very uncomfortable at having been put in the position.

The Lord of Sex giving a lecture to the young men on proper behavior seemed about as effective as having a highwayman chastise a pickpocket on the impropriety of thievery.

In the end, John simply threatened them with bodily harm. This the
Cyndreacs
understood, and so they switched their focus to the feminine
guests, which was
not much of an improvement, but at least they had clean linens for their rooms.

The groundskeepers reported that three of "
them
black-haired
Frenchie
devils" had a roustabout, knocking over several urns and one garden statue of an angel, which immediately cracked in two, its head rolling from its shoulders to land under the feet of the portly Marquise
LaClempe
.

The marquise, upon seeing a lolling head rolling by her feet, immediately fainted onto poor little Marquise
LaClempe
, who was now bedridden with a wrenched back.

Meanwhile, John's garments were disappearing from his wardrobe at a brisk clip.

"Aren't you glad you married me, John?" Chloe teased him. "Look at what you would have missed if you hadn't."

John laughed, hugging her. "I still would have been here; I just wouldn't have had to deal with it."

Chloe's face brightened. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

He tugged a lock of her hair. "Of course, we could simply disappear back to our chambers like the rest of the family and let the madness carry on by itself while we…"

Chloe sucked in a breath. "We can't, John."

"Why not?" he drawled suggestively.

"You know how carried away you get, Lord Sexton." She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot playfully.

"Ah, yes, all that sighing and moaning and screaming
I
do." He flashed
her a
steaming look from under his lashes, his lips twitching in amusement.

"And what is that smile for?" Chloe wagged her finger at him.

"The smile is because I see
Baronne
Dufond
making her way over here to complain about something and I am about to leave."

"Oh no!
Not her! John, don't you dare leave me to deal with—Come back here!" But John was already out the door and gone. "He'll pay for that later," she mumbled under her breath.

"
Viscountess
!" the nasal, whiny voice called out to her.

Chloe gritted her teeth, took a deep breath, and forced a smile on her face. "Yes,
Baronne
Dufond
?"

The aggravating woman clung to the old fashions of the court of her king, Louis XVI. Her powdered hair was pulled up into a coiffure that was almost the same height she was. A model ship was perched precariously at the top, its tiny sails blowing in the light wind from the open doors.

"There is a problem with my room."

"I'm sorry to hear that; what is this problem you speak of?" Chloe peered at the ship at closer range, recognizing it as one Maurice had given John. Up until recently it was in his old room, on his writing desk. The model was a particular favorite of his.
Oh dear
.

She bit her lip.
Perhaps John won't recognize it
.

"The room is noisy in the morning!" the
baronne
complained, nose in the air. "I can hear the carriages arriving with the visitors and I cannot sleep!"

"I apologize for any inconvenience, but you see, because of all the guests, most of the rooms are taken. It would be very difficult to move you right now."

Baronne
Dufond
, whose father was a duke, stared down her nose at the
viscountess
with the haughty, pursed expression of acute displeasure mastered only by the crème de la crème of French nobility.

Chloe had been seeing the expression since the woman arrived. She was heartily sick of it.

Although the
baronne
wasn't exactly cockeyed, as some of the
Cyndreacs
had indicated, her beady eyes did have the unfortunate tendency to drift toward her nose when she was displeased.
Which seemed to be most of the time.
Her protruding bite added immeasurably to the intense façade she had perfected so well.

Chloe didn't know what to say. How could she appease the woman? There was nowhere to move her. She was saved by a most unlikely candidate.

Jean-Jules came up behind them, having overheard most of the exchange. "You may have my room,
Baronne
. It overlooks the east woods and is quite pleasant."

A startling change came over the woman. Her face almost took on an amicable cast. She nodded in a pleased way, fluttering her fan. "
Merci
, Count
Cyndreac
. You are the gentleman."

Chloe was surprised by Jean-Jules's gesture but not shocked. He had been defending the lady since before she arrived. It was puzzling. "I'll inform Calloway that your rooms are to be switched." She smiled reassuringly at the woman.

"Thank you,
Viscountess
Sexton." The
baronne
turned to leave, gliding toward the open French doors. Chloe swore she saw the little ship weigh anchor as it swooped the waves of hairstyle.

Outside, John, spying a
Cyndreac
near his wife, decided to make his way back into the room. As he was entering the house, he passed by
Baronne
Dufond
in the doorway, his sights drifting idly to the ship sailing by his nose. He frowned absently at the odd hairstyle, continuing on.

Two steps later, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Slowly he turned, arms akimbo, squinting at the decorative headdress. "My model!" he mouthed under his breath.

His emerald eyes kindled with indignation. John instantly changed course and followed the towering hair out the door. He was after that ship!

Chloe watched John storm after the woman.

Her hand came to her mouth to suppress her laughter. She had no doubts that the model would still be perched on the
baronne's
head at the evening meal. John was about to receive the haughty
Dufond
glare.

"The hairstyle is most original," Jean-Jules said to her left, a teasing smile flitting about his well-shaped lips.

Chloe grinned at him. "You seem to be her champion, Jules."

"Do I?"

Chloe shook her head. "May I ask you something?"

He raised an eyebrow, and in that moment she caught a glimpse of the man he would become in ten years.

"Do you have a
tendresse
for her, Jean-Jules?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "She was kind to me one night in the prison."

Chloe raised her brow.

"
Non
, not that way."

"What happened?"

"I was very ill; I had contracted a fever there. One night, the worst night…" His cheekbones flushed a dull bronze in his uncertainty whether to continue the personal tale.

"Yes?" Chloe prompted him.

He took a deep breath. "She held my head in her lap and put her hand on my forehead. She told me I was too courageous to die like this in a filthy prison that stank of evil."

His gold eyes watched a bird hopping tree limbs. "That night the fever broke. I remember there was one moment of such profound joy that I was going to live. Then some soldiers came to escort the next group to the guillotine and it all fell into perspective. But she was kind to me that night."

Chloe watched the Count as he wrestled with his emotions. He was an impressionable young man, she thought, warmhearted and sensitive.

One night a condemned woman had found the decency within herself to be kind to a young man on the verge of death. She had given him a mother's touch.

It is the small acts of kindness that are remembered most
, Chloe realized. Jean-Jules would forever overlook
Baronne
Dufond's
annoying nature because in that one instant, she had risen to her best self and showed him her basic goodness.

"Thank you for sharing that with me; I shall always remember it."

Jean-Jules nodded briefly, somewhat embarrassed over the disclosure. He quickly excused himself, going in search of his brothers.

That evening at dinner Chloe noted that the model ship still hung gleefully from the
Baronne
Dufond's
coif, while John sat at the head of the table, a disgruntled expression gracing his handsome face.

She was not overly surprised at the outcome.
Poor John.
He was just too good-natured. Half the guests were walking around displaying at least one item of his personal belongings.

Adrien
Cyndreac
, seated next to her, took the opportunity to move closer to ask about the fishing in a stream he had come across on the north side of the property.

There was so much noise in the banquet hall that she had to get very close to him to answer, speaking practically into his ear.

When she finished speaking, she glanced up, shocked to see two green eyes, narrowed and dangerous, boring into her from the other end of the table.

John clearly did not like the familiar rapport she had with all the
Cyndreacs
.
Good
.

Just to annoy him, Chloe smiled brightly at him from her end of the table, giving him a little wave of her fingers.

He contemplated her in an utterly stone-faced manner.

Chloe immediately turned to her left to engage the person sitting next to her in conversation.

Unfortunately, it was another
Cyn
.

Jean-Paul, seated to her other side, began regaling her with an amusing anecdote regarding a baker and a gypsy. The story captured her attention, and when Jean-Paul finally got to the end, only to have the punch line delivered by
Adrien
, she had no choice but to laugh outright at his exasperation with his younger brother. They were so engaging—

A hot chill raced down her spine. Chloe peeked John's way.

A small muscle ticked in her husband's jaw.

Bien
! Chloe took a slow sip of her wine, supremely happy with the rogue's progress. Such a fixated expression surely meant he had some jealous feelings for her. Jealous feelings were often a cornerstone to other feelings.

She decided to encourage the
Cyns
a little by being terribly amused by them. John obviously felt something tender toward her.

At the other end of the table, John was debating on whether to get up and "tenderly" wring her dainty neck.

What did she mean, encouraging those wild pups like that? Didn't she realize what she was doing? They were already after her like bees to a blossom, flitting around her day and night.
All seven of them.
He had to watch her every minute to be sure one of them didn't toss her over his shoulder and carry her off.

He was going to have to have another talk with his little
wife
. Apparently she hadn't understood how serious he was about the conditions of the agreement.

Picking up his goblet, he took a sip of his wine, narrowly observing her over the rim; he simmered.