1939912059 (R) (43 page)

Unable to see past his tears, his hand jumped to her kind, painted face. A face he missed so much. He grazed his finger across the face he had been unable to make real and see in his mind because of all the years that had passed.

In between uneven breaths, he glanced back at Thérèse in disbelief. “How did you…?”

She lingered, her head slightly tilted. “Sade informed me the Republic was selling everything that had ever belonged to you and your family. I outbid everyone for everything about a month after you left France. The only thing I could not save was your land and your homes.”

He swallowed and slowly stood, the silence of the garret amplifying the beat of his heart. The dream of her that kept his soul and his heart alive all these years was
nothing
compared to the reality of her.

Drifting toward her, he whispered, “I am in awe of everything you are. Everything you have always been. Thank you for…” He paused before her and gently cupped her face, tilting it up toward him. “May I spend the rest of my days proving my worth to you.”

She brokenly smiled up at him.

Kissing her lips, he released her, a breath escaping him.

He was done hiding. They had survived too much for him to belittle what they shared.

Stripping his wool cap, he tossed it. Lifting his hands to the back of his head, he untied the velvet strings that held his mask in place and let the mask fall. It cascaded in a rustle to his booted feet.

Her blue eyes captured his. Searching the side of his marred face with widened eyes, a hand jumped to her mouth, her fingernails digging into her own cheek.

He set his chin in an attempt to remain calm. “It used to be far worse. Time has faded most of the scarring to white.”

Tears rolled down her face and dripped over her hand. “What was done to you?” she choked past her fingers.

He shifted his jaw and glanced off to the side, knowing he couldn’t protect her from the truth forever. “Your beloved Jacques avenged you. He sought to ensure you no longer had an interest in me given you had no interest in him.”

Her hand fell away. “
Jacques
?” she echoed. “I…from the theatre? He…?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Shortly after the Laroche family had departed in a coach heading for the border, Jacques returned with ten other men from the theatre. Despite bloodying up some of them good, I was outnumbered. While four held me down in the corridor, one by one, they proceeded to ensure I never wanted to come back. A few broken bones and a quick touch of a torch to the side of my face and it was done. In the course of one night, I lost everything. You, our son and my face.”

A sob escaped her. “Forgive me for ever trusting that bastard. I— Forgive me for—” She jumped toward him and reaching up, grabbed his face with trembling hands.

He held her gaze and smiled, the weight of all the years lifting from his mind and soul. “You are holding me and loving me,
ma biche
. Despite my face. That is all that matters. It is all I ever wanted.”

Her pale tear-streaked face twisted. Her lips trembled. “I love you. And I wish to assure you, you are as beautiful as ever.”

He swallowed, the heat of her hands on his skin pulsing its way to the beat of his heart. Tears stung his eyes knowing she didn’t care what his face looked like. She was holding him and still wanting him and loving him.

Her trembling hands smoothed his face as she searched his eyes. “No more masks,
Monsieur Highwayman
. There is no need for it.”

A breath escaped him.

Grabbing her face hard, he seized those beautiful soft lips, molding her mouth against his in an attempt to demonstrate that their lives had never been complete without each other. As he slowly made love to her mouth, he undid the pins in her hair, letting them ping to the floor one by one, until her hair tumbled around them both in a silken curtain. He brushed it away from their faces.

He broke away from their kiss and searched her flushed face, refusing to believe any of this was real. He grazed his fingers through her silver strands that made her face shockingly perfect. “You aged beautifully. Do you know that?”

She rolled her eyes and smoothed her hands against his chest. “I went completely silver at forty.”

He smirked. “Are you bragging?”

She nudged him.

He dragged his hands from her hair down to her bodice, toward the string of pearls he had given her once upon a spell when he had been falling in love with everything she was. He had recognized them that night he had sent her into a faint. “You still have them.”

She grabbed his hands, tangling the pearls between them. “I wore them almost every single day. I had them re-strung twice.” She kissed his hands and gushed, “I cannot wait for Maybelle to meet you.”

He smiled. “Does she even know about me?”

She smiled and nodded. “Oh, yes. She does. She knows all about the man who introduced me to real passion.”

He bit back a smile. “Christ. Now I am genuinely worried. What did you tell her?”

“Only enough to ensure she knew it was real.”

He laughed and dragged his hands into her hair again. “
Ma biche
?”

She grinned and searched his face. “
Oui
?”

“Did you know my mother had an emerald ring that I hid behind the panel of the dresser her painting is resting against over there? I was always worried my father would sell it.”

She paused. “Do you think it is still there?”

“There is only one way to find out.” He grabbed her hand and quickly guided her back to the ornate dresser. Releasing her hand, he gently lifted his mother’s painting and set it aside. Angling toward the dresser, he pulled out one of the empty drawers and set it aside. Lowering himself to better see into the slot he had made, he squinted and reached back into it. His fingers hit the fake panel that had been installed. He creaked it open, wedging the section loose. Letting it fall aside, he leaned in closer and felt his way around the small space. His finger grazed a small box. His heart skidded. It was still there.

Dragging it, he gripped it and pulled his arm back out. He turned back to Thérèse and tapped at the box. “It remained right where I left it.” Striding toward her, he opened the ring box, revealing a massive emerald and gold ring.

She gasped. “That cannot be real.”

He quirked a brow. “It is. The emerald came out of India.” Pulling it out of the box, he shoved the box into his coat pocket and took her hand. “May I?”

A bubble of a laugh escaped her as she pertly held her hand up higher to him. “You most certainly may.”

He kissed the heavy ring, silently thanking his mother for saving it for something this momentous, and slid the emerald onto Thérèse’s finger. “It was my mother’s favorite ring.”

She blinked down at it, angling the emerald left and right in admiration. “Now, it is
my
favorite ring.”

“If you bought everything from the estate, there could be more.”

Her lips parted. She glanced toward the trunks and furniture. “Och, we will be here all night.” She bustled back toward the dresser and started taking out more drawers, peering in.

He burst into laughter. His butcher girl was back. Diamonds and pearls were just the beginning. “
Thérèse
.”

She paused and glanced back at him.

“How about we do this later? Yes?”

She smirked, straightened and adjusted her emerald ring. “I suppose.”

He let out a playful growl and ran at her, determined to kiss the smirk off that gorgeous face.

The Andelot estate

Saint Petersburg, Russia – six years later

Thérèse set an exasperated hand against her bosom.

This reunion was getting out of hand.

“
Hawksford
! Why the hell are you on the table?” Caldwell yelled from across the room. He gestured at all the children gathered around gaping up at him. “Is this the example you wish to set for our children? Russia is already full of idiots. There is no need to add to it.”

Konstantin grabbed up a napkin, bundled it and whipped it at Caldwell’s head. “The only idiot I see is the one insulting us Russians!”

Leona and Caroline burst into laughter and tried to usher the children away from the chaos.

Maybelle and Clementine tsked in unison, adjusting their expensive furs from their earlier walk in the snow.

“Now, now, hear me out.” Hawksford held up a glass of wine high into the air and started pacing on the table from where he towered. “Given that I can finally see everyone from up here,” he drawled, “I wish to make a toast to the Duchess of Andelot who ensured each and every one of us enrolled in life’s greatest lesson. And that is: Women
always
get the last word.”

Thérèse rolled her eyes and tightened her hold on Gérard’s arm.

Gérard leaned in and said into her ear, “Remind me to never invite any of these people over again.”

Thérèse nudged him. “We only get to see them every two years. We will survive. We always do.”

Hawksford’s wife, Charlotte heaved out an exasperated breath, bustling over to the table. “Given I get the last word, the least you can do is get off the table.”

Brayton casually walked up to the table and jumped onto it with a thud. He wagged his hands over to the group of children gathering with giggles. “Three at a time. No more than that. And
no
running. Or the tablecloth will outwit you.”

Running up to the table, Banfield hoisted up one of the girls and set her onto the table.

Gérard puffed out a breath and held up a quick hand, stepping forward. “That table is two hundred years old. Might we show it some respect and…refrain?”

Everyone paused.

Hawksford quickly finished his wine and jumped off the table. He pointed up at Brayton. “You are setting a
very
bad example for these children.”

Maybelle sidled in next to Thérèse. “
Grand-mére
?”

“
Oui
?” Thérèse asked.

Maybelle leaned in closer and asked from behind a hand, “Have you seen Edmund?”

Thérèse paused. She glanced around the crowded dining hall, realizing she had not seen the Duke of Rutherford in some time. “
Non
. Where did he go?”

Maybelle sighed. “I have no idea. There are too many people in this house.”

Gérard veered back toward them. “Rutherford is still in the library reading to four children who are not even his own. They have not let the poor man get past the first page due to all the questions.”

Maybelle burst into laughter. “I will save him. He is not very good at controlling children. He has a tendency to give into everything they want. Pardon me.” She gathered her gown and hurried out of sight.

Taking her hand, Gérard gestured toward the corridor outside the dining hall. “Might we?”

“
Mais oui
.”

They stepped out into the candlelit corridor, hand in hand and strode toward the long row of glass windows facing out into snowy night.

Pausing before the glass, Gérard leaned toward it and used the heat of his breath to cloud the glass. He glanced at her and with a finger, he wrote,
No more students
.

She burst into laughter and shoved him.

He grinned and then kissed her, their hands smearing the words off the glass.

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OTHER BOOKS IS THE SCHOOL OF GALLANTRY SERIES

Mistress of Pleasure, Book 1

Lord of Pleasure, Book 2

Lady of Pleasure, Book 3

Night of Pleasure, Book 4

Master of Pleasure, Book 5

Romancing Lady Stone, Book 6