Love Became Theirs (12 page)

But she had no doubt what her answer must be.

"I'm sorry, my Lord, but what you suggest is impossible. I do have some decent clothes, and I trust I shall not shame you at the ball. If I dress less lavishly than everyone else, that is only proper. I am, after all, still a governess. Nobody will think it strange. Please, do not be offended at my refusal."

"I'm not offended," he said quietly. "I honour you for your strength of mind. You are a true lady."

His words stayed with her on the journey to the Rue de la Paix, along with a certain gentleness in his manner. But all brooding ceased when they reached their destination and she found herself surrounded by a riot of silks, satins, brocades and gauzes.

First Madame Thierre had to speak to the head of the establishment, a tiny woman with bright eyes, called Ginette. Then the two of them exclaimed over Alice, her youth, her beauty, her dainty figure. Agnes and Cecile joined in, walking round Alice, discussing her points as they would have done a horse.

Alice had no objection. She was filled with bliss to be the centre of attention for such a delightful reason, and could gladly have stood there all day while the rival merits of various fabrics were debated.

In the end they decided on white silk gauze. Ginette took Alice's measurements and produced some styles. Pouring over these took the rest of the day. By the time they returned home everybody was in the last stages of exhaustion. The men thought this was very funny and teased them over dinner.

The following day they returned to Ginette's establishment. As they were climbing down from the carriage Alexei walked past, and saluted them with a flourish. Rona stopped to speak to him, thinking that he might mention Peter, if she appeared only casually interested.

But when she mentioned that Peter had gone, Alexei looked surprised and said,

"Him too? Everyone is vanishing from Paris. Emilia is away for a while visiting friends and I am all alone."

Madame Thierre immediately invited him for the evening. Rona tried to look pleased although she felt, after what she had just heard, that nothing could ever please her again.

At the end of five days everyone, except Rona, had new gowns, shoes, scarves, gloves. Jewellery was brought out from safes and polished. There was to be one more visit to Ginette, and then all was done.

It was a merry occasion. Alice put on her completed dress and went out into the corridor to parade up and down before the mirrors that lined one wall, looking at herself this way and that, studying the dress from all angles, while everyone cried approval.

Then they crowded back into the dressing room. Ginette produced a bottle of champagne, and even the young girls were allowed a sip.

As she was enjoying her glass of champagne, Rona heard a sound from the corridor that alerted her.

It was a woman's laugh, rich, vibrant, sensual. It told the world that this was a woman with a lover, or perhaps many lovers, and she was confident in her power to captivate them all.

It was Emilia.

So the Russian woman had returned from wherever she had been.

Moving slowly, so as not to attract attention, Rona slid out into the corridor. As she had expected, Countess Emilia Rostoya was stalking up and down, studying herself in detail in the huge mirrors.

Her dress was deep crimson velvet. For all her voluptuous build Emilia had the tiny waist of a young girl, which served to emphasise the size and magnificence of her bosom. It was further emphasised by the fact that the dress plunged low in the front (indecently low, Rona thought).

The skirt was huge and must have taken vast amounts of material. Emilia knew exactly how to use it, walking with a little flick of the hips that made it swirl provocatively. Only a supremely confident woman could have flaunted herself in this dress.

And Emilia was confident enough for anything, Rona thought. As she watched she saw the Russian start to twirl until she was like a crimson spinning top, laughing as she went. She came to a halt facing Rona, and her smile grew broader.

"Ah, the little English lady," she exclaimed. This was how she commonly referred to Rona, who was, in fact, slightly taller than most women. Rona had no doubt that it was a way of demeaning her.

Emilia's eyes swept over Rona's quiet clothes and her hair that said, 'governess'.

"How do you think I will look at Alice's ball?" she asked.

"You will look splendid, Countess," Rona replied quietly. "As you always do."

"Of course," said Emilia, sounding slightly shocked. "The important word is 'always'. A woman must always look her best. That is how to hold a man's interest. That and – other things."

She said the last words with a sly look that Rona found unbearable and her temper rose.

"I'm sure you are equally expert in the 'other things' madam," she said.

Emilia gave a tinkling laugh.

"Oh, my dear little governess, how unwise these people were to let you forget your station. It's so easy to get above yourself, isn't it? Easy to dream dreams of things that are impossible. How foolish of you!"

Rona's eyes glinted.

"You shouldn't be so easily deceived, madam. I am no governess, however it may look to you, and only I decide what is impossible."

A sudden tense look came into Emilia's eyes.

"No governess? In that case – what are you?"

Rona forced her common sense to return.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

"Oh come, you meant something by that."

"As you said madam, we all dream."

"And in your case – such sad little dreams. Oh, I know, my dear. I've followed your eyes. My poor brother deludes himself, doesn't he? Never mind, he'll get over it in time. And you – well, I don't care if you get over it or not, as long as you keep out of my way."

She stepped back and swirled her hips again, as if to emphasise her point.

"You will remember that, won't you?"

"I never forget anything, madam," said Rona deliberately. "Not a word, not a gesture – not an insult."

It was madness to speak in such a way, but at this moment she was facing the Countess as woman to woman and she could see, by Emilia's eyes, that she understood this.

"Are you so impertinent as to threaten me?"

"Yes," said Rona simply.

She had no idea what she would do if Emilia took up the challenge. She had said the words because her pride simply would not allow her to back down before this insolent creature. And she had her reward in the look of uncertainty that crossed Emilia's face.

The Russian recovered herself, but not completely. Her smile wavered a fraction, and she backed away until she reached the open door of the room where she had been changing. Then she turned her brilliant smile on somebody who was sitting in there, out of sight.

"Will I do, my darling? Are you getting your money's worth?"

Rona drew in a sharp breath.

She longed to know who was the man sitting in that room, the man who had paid to dress the Countess, and would presumably undress her.

But Emilia swung inside and shut the door firmly.

Rona remained outside, listening intently for the sound of voices.

But all she heard was soft male laughter, and she could not tell whose it was.

She stood there, watching that closed door, feeling the world go cold.

Suddenly she was frightened.

*

The great ballroom at the back of the Thierre house was festooned with white flowers. The orchestra was in place. Soon the guests would begin to arrive.

Upstairs everybody was in the last stages of preparation. Alice looked like a fairy in her white dress, her father's gift of pearls around her neck.

She had enjoyed a blissful birthday, except for one thing.

"If only Uncle Peter could have been here," she mourned. "How could he have forgotten my birthday?"

"Perhaps he's just very busy," Rona suggested, trying to sound unconcerned, although her own heart was sore.

She longed to see Peter, to look into his eyes and see there a denial of all the Countess had hinted. But he had not even bothered to return for Alice's birthday.

It was absurd to keep hoping. Now she knew all she had wanted to know.

For herself she had chosen a dress of pearl grey silk, as demure as the Countess was flamboyant. Its neck was slightly higher than was normal for a ball gown. With it she wore a dainty silver filigree necklace, the most demure piece of jewellery she had taken with her.

She longed to dress up in her finest gown and most expensive jewels. She had been the belle of the ball in the past, and could be again, if only she were free to be herself.

But she was not free. She was the governess. She must never forget that.

The Earl frowned a little when he saw the dress, and she knew he was thinking how she would have looked in the one he had wanted to buy for her. But he had too much delicacy to refer to the matter again.

At last it was time for the ball to begin. Guests were arriving in luxurious carriages. Many of them were Monsieur Thierre's associates in government circles. It was a glittering occasion.

Monsieur Thierre himself opened the ball, dancing with Alice, while his wife danced with the Earl.

Rona was not short of partners. Henri danced with her, then Marcel and then Jacques, blushing furiously as he bowed before her.

Count Alexei appeared, full of good cheer, but unable to explain why his sister had not arrived.

"She has a life I know nothing about," he said with a wink at everyone. "I dare say she will be here soon."

He continued talking in this vein as he swept Rona around the floor. She answered mechanically, but afterwards she was glad to escape.

She was standing close to a door that stood ajar. It was a simple matter to slip through, praying that nobody would see her go.

Her prayers were answered, and she found herself in a broad corridor, lined with pictures on one side and large windows on the other.

It was blessedly peaceful to be alone, away from the hustle and bustle of admirers. If only she could get away from her own thoughts as easily. Would there ever be peace from her inner turmoil?

The windows looked out onto cloisters, with a lawn and a fountain. Coloured fairy lamps had been hung all around, giving the place a magical air. Rona stood watching the fountain, entranced by its beauty.

Then suddenly she grew very still.

She had seen something impossible.

The reflection of the spray was giving her illusions.

But the next moment she had found the door in the wall that led outside and was hurriedly pulling it open, then running through the cloisters, trying to see across the lawn to the arches beyond.

It was dark, but she knew she had seen him.

Harlequin.

He had been standing there, leaning against a pillar, his eyes gleaming through the slits of his mask.

But now he was gone.

She gave a little cry at the thought that she might have imagined him. He must be there, oh how could she endure this?

She turned a corner of the cloister, and then she saw the door opening at the far end. A hand reached out to beckon her. She hurried her steps but when she got there, the hand had gone.

The door was still open. Taking a deep breath she went into the darkened room beyond. What little she could see came from the coloured lights outside, but she could make out that the room was large and almost empty.

There was a click as the door closed behind her. She turned.

Harlequin stood there, looking at her.

"It's you," she whispered. "At least – is it?"

He came towards her, looking down on her in the gloom. The coloured lights emphasised the diamond pattern on his costume, but his mask, under the tricorn hat, hid the upper part of his face.

She could just make out his mouth, and her heart began to beat. It was the mouth she knew, wide, generous, and now smiling.

"Yes, it's me," he said softly. "I knew you would come."

"You said we would never meet again," she reminded him.

"I didn't dare hope that we would. It seemed so impossible. But I hadn't allowed for your courage in escaping."

"It was you who gave me courage," she said passionately. "I've often seemed to feel you beside me."

"That's because I've been there, always thinking of you – always with you."

"Why have you pretended not to know me?"

"I must. I have work to do, that must be done in secret. And you must tell nobody that we have met like this."

"But why?"

"Because it might put you in danger."

"In danger?" she echoed, truly surprised. "How can I be? Where does the danger come from?"

"Some of it comes from me," he answered unexpectedly. "I carry danger with me wherever I go. God forbid I should spread it to those I love. I had to see you tonight to warn you. Stay well clear of Rostoy. I cannot tell you why."

"Are you sure you aren't jealous?" she dared to ask.

She could just make out his smile.

"Should I be jealous of him?"

"Oh no, no!" she said eagerly. "I care nothing for him. Please, Peter – "

"Harlequin," he interrupted her quickly. "For us, Peter does not exist. It is better that way."

"But does Harlequin exist?"

He smiled again, in appreciation of her quick wit.

"He exists if you want him to," he said. "If he lives in your heart, then he exists. But you can dismiss him with a word or a sigh."

"I shall never say a word."

"I'm glad. Because I think, if you did, it would kill me."

"Please Harlequin, you must believe me when I say that Count Rostoy is nothing to me."

"I shall carry that assurance in my heart, just as I have carried you in my heart since that first night."

"There are so many things about you that I don't understand. The Russian Countess – "

Instantly his finger tips were over her mouth.

"Hush," he said sternly. "You must not ask me about her."

She drew a swift breath of dismay. His open flirting with the Countess, and perhaps more, was the one thing above all she longed to know about.