Undone (31 page)

“Because if a man in my class were to marry a woman in your class, she would be stripped of her status and made insignificant in society. A commoner. A man should bring the woman he marries honor. Not shame.”

“Dear God!” she exclaimed, feeling utterly defeated and completely heartbroken. “I see no shame in it. I cannot understand why you hold nobility in such esteem!”

“It is not just I who hold it in esteem, but society. I’ve chased it all my life. If I cannot have mine, I will not let you lose yours.”

The look in his eyes told her he couldn’t be dissuaded. He was taking her back. She thought he had some feelings for her, but his intentions coupled with his words indicated differently.

She was to have had a chance—four weeks with him—to build something permanent, but she didn’t get four days. She had to leave the room—
right now
—before she made an utter fool of herself by making declarations of love or crumbling to the floor weeping and pleading.

She started for the door. She had no idea where she was going, but she had to get out of his presence, to collect herself. To think. To harden her heart.

“Angelica.” He caught her hand and stepped closer. “Don’t go.” His blue eyes were suddenly less guarded. As always, his proximity enveloped her senses. Gently, he brushed back a lock of her hair. “Being with you has been better than a dream.”

His look of utter mournfulness surprised her and caused a little bit of hope to swell inside. She tried to push it away, afraid to believe in it.

“We should have had more time together,” he continued, “but there is still some time left. Bliss like this doesn’t come around every day.” Cupping her face, he kissed her softly. She closed her eyes, trying to steel her strength, yet still clinging to the contact. “I, for one, am not ready to let go just yet,” he murmured against her mouth.

She pulled away, needing to see the confirmation of his words in his eyes. It was there. Hope swelled a little more.

“If you would allow,” he said, her face still cradled between his palms, “we could be together for the remainder of our time on the island as well as the entire voyage. It is a total of nearly two months. More than we agreed upon in our arrangement. What say you? Will you be with me until we reach France,
mon ange
? I’ve no right to ask, but I find it impossible not to ask just the same.”

She should say no and run. Pick up the pieces of her heart and guard them fiercely, but she’d made her proposition knowing it was risky. He was offering more time together. Would it be enough to convince him that they belonged together? That their stations of birth shouldn’t separate them?

He was back to kissing her mouth with a tenderness she felt down to her heart. If she backed away now, she would lose for certain. Her only chance was to see it through to the end.

To the end of the voyage, and hope to change his mind.

“Angelica…say you will be with me.”

What choice did she have but to give it her all? That way, in her old age, she wouldn’t condemn herself for not having tried all that was in her power to have the man she loved.

Was regret not worse than a broken heart?

In his eyes, she could see how much he wanted her to agree, how much this situation was causing him pain, and she decided to see her original plan through to the end.

“I will.”

He drew her tightly against him and buried his face in her hair. “Thank God.”

“But understand this,” she said pulling back. “I will not go back to Beaulieu. Ever.”

He kissed her again, with more purpose. “Let’s not talk about this now. To hell with France and all those in it,” he murmured between kisses. “While we’re together, we will make the most of it. Nothing exists but the two of us and this magnificent bliss we create together.”

His words couldn’t be truer.

The stakes were raised. If she reached the shores of France and he hadn’t declared his love, she would lose everything and everyone she’d come to hold dear—never to return to Marguerite again.

She would never see Gabriella again. She would never listen to Suzette’s bubbly chatter or watch her try to catch Paul’s eye anymore. She would never see any of these people again, never know what became of her students.

She would be forced to endure endless days without any of them. Without Simon.

So much uncertainty lay in her future. Everything weighed upon the voyage back to France.

And how deep Simon’s feelings truly were for her.

*****

Simon sat behind the desk of his study, swirling his goblet of brandy. Merriment went on beyond the doors of his study. A party for his commanders who were leaving to return to France. A party was the last thing he was in any mood for.

He reminded himself, for surely the thousandth time, that he was doing the right thing.

His plan didn’t involve bettering himself for a change. But bettering others—not only Angelica, but also his own kind—the lower class in France whom he’d wronged by aiding Fouquet’s climb to power.
May Fouquet and Angelica’s stepfather burn in hell for what they’ve done.

But what about him?

Upon his own death, would he join them? Could he ever be forgiven for pursuing his ambitions blindly, to the detriment of so many? Could hell be worse than how he felt at the thought of letting Angelica go?

Jules marched into the study and slammed the door shut behind him. “I must speak to you.”

Simon frowned. “Thank you for knocking.”

Jules’s usual smile was notably absent. “You are making a grave error.”

Weary, Simon sighed. “What specifically are you talking about? Don’t you agree Domenico should stay behind this time?”

Jules frowned. “Of course, I agree. I’m happy to make this voyage, to command one of the ships returning to France. Sabine agrees with the decision as well.”

“I’m delighted to hear your wife approves of my selections. Mind getting to the point?”

“My point is Angelica. Sabine tells me of this insane decision to take her back.”

“This is none of your concern. Leave it alone.”

“You are my concern. As your friend, I cannot watch you do this and remain silent. I watched you at the feast after the bachelors’ competition. I saw you the next morning too. I’ve never seen you look so happy. Any fool can see how much you love her.”

The words sliced through Simon like cold steel, opening the gaping gash inside him a little more.

“You are mad,” Simon forced out. “And you are acting as though my intentions toward her are ill. I plan to take her back, restore her estate, her standing, and take revenge on the man who…stole it from her in the first place.”

“But it is not what she wants.”

“Once she is in France and has reclaimed her rightful place in society, she will feel differently.”

“You jest!” Jules shook his head. “Simon, you are the most stubborn… Just because nobility has meant everything to you, does not mean that it means everything to everyone. Forget this nonsense and marry her.”

“You have gone mad.” Simon quickly tossed back the remainder of the brandy from his goblet and filled it again, desperately wishing it would quell his emotions. Damn Jules. Why was he putting him through this?

“You love her.”

Jules’s words sent a painful jolt through him. Simon slammed down his goblet on the desk, the liquid sloshing out. “Enough!”

Jules set his palms on Simon’s desk and leaned forward. “Look me in the eye and tell me she’s no more than a good fuck.”

Simon rose to his feet. Through clenched teeth he growled, “I’m warning you.”

“She loves you.”

Simon shook his head, shutting his heart and ears to those words. “She will gain back all that she has lost, all the advantages of her birth. She will then be able to marry someone of her own social station.
It is the right thing to do
.” He fought back the misery, trying to ignore how each word cut into him.

“
Merde!
Ask her. Before you make the decision to give her up, ask her if she loves you.”

He couldn’t do it. If she told him she loved him, he doubted he would have the strength to walk away. If she said that she did not, it would be too painful to bear.

“Ask her to marry you, and you will see the truth of my words.”

“
Jésus-Christ
, Jules. Marry the daughter of a count to the son of a fisherman? Would you have her entire ancestry turn in their graves?”

Jules straightened and let out a frustrated sigh. “You may not be a noble, but you are a rich man. You can provide for her as well as any Aristo.”

“Only you and Robert know that I have chased after betterment. That dream is over. I must accept that I’m a commoner and shall remain that way. She deserves better. You of all people should understand, Jules. You were born an Aristo and then you were stripped of it. How did it feel to be
nothing
? Would you have me do that to her? Take away her nobility by marrying her?”

“Yes, I felt worthless once, and it was you who gave me the opportunity to change my life. Then I met Sabine. Now, when I look into her eyes, and I see her love for me, I feel greater than the king. Look into the eyes of your highborn lady and see that she adores you. Allow her to decide which she wishes to lose—you or social standing.”

“I will not diminish her in anyway. I do
not
wish to marry her.” Another sharp pain wrenched inside him. God help him, he was resolved to reject Jules’s words at all cost, especially when Simon knew he couldn’t keep her.

“Oh no, you wish it,” Jules countered, “and you will wish it with each and every piece of your shattered heart, and on your final day, with your final breath, you will die still in want of it.”

“This conversation is over.” Simon started toward the door. Jules grabbed his arm.

“You feel unworthy of her because you are carrying Fouquet’s sins on your soul. You didn’t harm those people; he did. As for Thomas, he took a risk because—”

“—of me!”

“No! Because he wanted more too. He wanted bigger and better things out of life. He wouldn’t want you to bear any guilt over his death. If you must have nobility before you will marry Angelica, then go to France and get it. Demand it from the king.”

“The war is over, Jules. Haven’t you heard?” Simon asked caustically. “There isn’t a demand for naval officers at the moment. Besides, I want no part of captures and battle any longer. The realm is at peace, and I will return the warships and provide the king’s share of the silver from
La Estella Blanco
—to Louis
personally
. There are important matters I must speak to him about. While I’m in France, I not only plan to help Angelica but also to destroy Fouquet.”

“You are going to destroy
Nicolas Fouquet
? Have you received a blow to the head recently? Couldn’t you simply get over your guilt and bargain the island to Louis to gain nobility and perhaps a title?”

“It’s time to send the devil to hell so that he can stop imposing it on others. As for Marguerite, France isn’t interested in the islands here, and it’s a good thing. I wouldn’t bargain Marguerite away and place it under royal control. I don’t want to see royal governors here ruling these people, creating the civil unrest and other problems that have occurred on the other French islands. That’s the last thing these people deserve. They don’t need oppressive lords.”

Besides, there was no guarantee that Louis would ennoble him, no matter what he did.

“Fine. However, Louis is taking a more active role in his kingdom now. You have a sharp mind, Simon. I’ve seen you outwit the enemy in battle countless times. Now a new challenge lies before you. Convince the king, obtain your letters of nobility, and claim your prize—a beautiful woman who will bring you joy into your old age.”

Dieu
, Jules made it sound so simple, yet it was not. Simon couldn’t bring himself to claim “the prize.” Not
her
. If she knew the extent of what he’d done while he’d chased his ambitions, she’d turn away from him, horrified.

The battle she’d witnessed was but a small sampling.

He was willing to risk everything to unseat Fouquet. He was willing to risk everything to regain Angelica her stolen life and make her stepfather pay, but he wasn’t willing to dishonor her by marrying her as a commoner.

 “I cannot marry her,” he said, each word agony.

“Then you have condemned yourself to a life devoid of any true happiness.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Simon watched Angelica as she stood on deck gazing out at the sea long after the shores of Marguerite had disappeared from view.

If she had shed a tear, he hadn’t seen it. She’d walked through the saddened crowd on the beach, accepting flowers and good-byes from them with composure, grace, and a strength he admired—and drew from, to aid his flagging strength. She’d consoled others with quiet fortitude, and it destroyed him a little further to see her step foot onto the tender, leaving the shores of Marguerite.

Simon walked across the deck and slipped his arms around her waist. “Are you all right?”

She turned in his arms to face him. “As all right as you, it would seem.”
Dieu
, he felt miserable, but he hadn’t meant for her to see it.

He looked out at the sea, remaining silent.

“Tell me, Simon, do you truly wish for what we have to end?”

“No.” He couldn’t lie to her. “But it has to.” He forced out the words.

“What would you do if I were not a noble?”

He refused to dwell on what-ifs. It was too difficult. “You are, and that is reality.”

Regardless of the men working on the deck, she rose up onto the balls of her feet and pressed her warm mouth to his, kissing him softly on the lips. “Reality is what you make it,” she said. “This voyage will last several weeks. Within that time, I hope you’ll see that our reality is one worth holding on to.”

“It is the reality of our situation that makes it impossible to hold on.”

She studied him with those extraordinary eyes. “No. It is you alone who make it impossible,” she countered. “If by the time we reach the shores of France you haven’t changed your mind about this, then the reality is that you—not society’s rules—have forced an end to what we have, and what could have been.”