The Disdainful Marquis (18 page)

In the morning, he knew, when he paid her, all the mystery would be vanished. He would have known all there was to know of her. Or all he wished to know of her. The attraction was strong, and it was dangerous for him to be so attracted. In the past, he had consorted with women whose conversation amused him or whose personalities somehow made the mercenary side of their relationship less sordid. He did not know if Catherine Robins could even read or write, much less make pleasant discourse. He did not care. For he had no wish to be ensnared by a woman ever again. It would be enough to have her, and thereby end the interest he had in her.

For he could neither gather information nor observe dispassionately when she was about. No sooner did he get on the track of some new development that might be of interest to his cause than she would appear and chase all such thoughts from his mind. For instance, he thought angrily, he should not be watching her dance with Pierre Richard and be as consumed with futile jealousy as Hervé Richard so evidently was. He should rather be at Hervé's side now, listening to his spiteful rage, as Beaumont was. For when a man was consumed by passion, he was often indiscreet, and when a man like Hervé Richard was being indiscreet, there was a chance that there would be a great deal to learn. No, his fascination with her handicapped him and he grew angry at himself. And so, indirectly, at her.

There was only one remedy he could think of. And he knew that before the night was out, he would have taken it. He was not such a coxcomb as to think he was irresistible. But he was experienced enough to know that she felt the same tug of interest that he did. And he did have money, money enough to assuage her conscience for giving up such a potential honey fall as Pierre Richard.

The dance finally ended, and while Pierre executed a courtly bow, Catherine took the opportunity to dip a sketchy curtsy and begin a hasty retreat to the wall where she had been standing before the weighty Frenchman had sought her out. But before she could return across the floor, she was intercepted by another gentleman. He looked much the same as the partner she had just abandoned, except that he was slightly taller, slightly less obese, and dressed in clothes that were far less grand.

He bowed, and the music struck up again. Before she could leave, he took her hand and led her into the dance. There were gasps and those on the sidelines broke into excited babble as the dancers swung into the first steps. The marquis was not the only one who stared at the dancers now.

And neither was he the only one who made his seemingly unhurried but nevertheless rapid way to her erstwhile partner's side. Monsieur Beaumont also began to make his way through the crowd to the flushed, angry gentleman. But Beaumont, whose legs were shorter, had to stop after getting halfway there when he saw the marquis lean to speak with his quarry.

“Good evening, Pierre,” the Marquis said pleasantly in his perfect French. “I see that the new young English cocotte is becoming quite an attraction. Even your brother cannot resist her.”

The stout gentleman muttered, as much to himself as to the marquis, “But he is a beggar now. What does he think he is doing? It was only through my intercession that he was allowed to stay on in Paris. For he is my brother, after all.”

The marquis smiled sympathetically, knowing full well that Pierre would never allow his brother to go into exile totally, and thus miss seeing his more successful sibling's triumphs in society and at court. Just as Hervé had insisted on allowing his Royalist brother Pierre to stay on through his charity, when Bonaparte swept all before him.

“She could not refuse him, poor little sweet,” Pierre said, never taking his eyes from the couple before them, “but I shall tell her, soon enough, that he has nothing to offer her. He forgets himself. It is through my sufferance that he is here at all tonight.”

“Perhaps,” the marquis said with a smile, “he thinks his fortunes are about to take a new turn.”

“What?” Pierre said, distractedly, his attention so focused on his brother, who was whispering into the delightful young woman's ear, that he scarcely heard the question.

“No, no, never,” he said vehemently, his attention reverting to the marquis. “I keep Hervé and his wife and children in food and necessities as it is my duty as a brother to do. But I assure you, he won't get an extra sou from me to carry on with a demimondaine. And so I shall tell her, never fear. Hervé shall not have her, never fear.”

“Doubtless,” drawled the marquis, watching Hervé clutch Catherine closer and shoot a triumphant look at his brother. “But I wonder what he is telling her now? Perhaps he feels he will soon be in clover again?”

“Never!” Pierre barked, his little eyes jealously watching the couple's progress. “For his star is no longer in ascendancy. It shines only on the little island of Elba. Paris is mine now.”

“Perhaps,” the marquis mused. For Hervé's bid at taking away Pierre's new plaything was not unusual. The two brothers were famous in Paris for their competitive relationship. The wags had named them Cain and Cain years before, because, as society said, neither one was innocent enough to be called Abel. Still, this was a daring gesture for Hervé to make. And one, the marquis thought, that might not have been made solely out of rage and jealousy. It might have been an ill-advised gesture; however, it might just as well have been only a premature gesture showing that Hervé thought the direction of his fortunes was indeed about to change. It was true, as he had told Jenkins, that one might learn a great deal from merely watching clever demireps. For they seemed to gravitate to money and power and point it out as surely as any compass could show the North Star.

When the dance ended at last, Hervé made as if to delay his partner, for he had seen how quickly she had fled his brother. But Pierre was quick off the mark this time, and as Hervé reached for Catherine's arm again, Pierre approached his brother and signaled forcefully that he wished to speak to him. While the two brothers broke into low and volatile argument, to the amusement of watchers, the girl made her escape. And when the marquis looked away from the snarling brothers, she was gone.

Beaumont looked about him rapidly and then turned on his heel and went into hurried conference with a footman. But the marquis only strolled away, seemingly aimlessly. He smiled to himself as he wandered off into the direction that he had seen the white flash of her gown disappear. An association with her, he thought, however brief, would be of some real value after all. For his own personal interest now seemed to dovetail with his professional interest in the girl. After they had parted, he might be able to work out some arrangement with her whereby she could report back to him on whichever of the two brothers with whom she finally chose to consort. A word from either camp would suit him well. He would have to be sure that he left her with pleasant memories so that she would be willing to cooperate with him. And he would have yet another partner in his inquiries.

He knew she would not fly to the duchess's side, for that was where the brothers would look for her first. Nor would she have gone to Violet or Rose. For both were deep in the process of securing business for themselves at this hour. Thus, the marquis reasoned, if she had disappeared into this section of the house, she must have sought a room where she could be alone to weigh the offers of the two brothers.

The marquis eased open two doors off the main hall before he found her, standing alone, holding her hands together tightly, staring into a fire in Count D'Arcy's unused library.

“What a problem,” he sighed softly, entering the room and closing the door securely behind him. “Two such eligible suitors. And no one to give you advice as to which one to select. Hervé is, one admits, a trifle more comely, but after all he has four years on poor Pierre. But then, Pierre has the ear of Louis, and the purse and privilege as well. Yet again, as you surely must have heard, there are all sorts of rumors flying. And it is altogether possible that after one month of bliss with Pierre, you might find that Hervé was the one in power after all. His emperor is away just at the moment, but one never knows, does one?”

She turned and stared at him as he came up slowly behind her. Her eyes, he noted with amazement, were filled with tears and she wore an expression of grave despair. Had Hervé threatened her then? he wondered.

“I want nothing to do with either one of them,” she whispered. “Nothing at all. I just want to be let alone and stay with the duchess just for a little while longer, just till I can get home.”

As he watched, amazed, tears began to run down her cheeks. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed at them.

“Ah no,” he said in his gentlest voice, “for how can you face the company again if you go on so? You shall ruin the work of art you have created upon your face. See? Although I can repair the damage, I will not be able to recreate the effect, for I've left all my cosmetics home again, alas.”

At his words, she looked up in despair, and began to sob. He gathered her close in his arms and stroked her smooth bare shoulders. When she tried weakly to pull away, he only held her closer and whispered soft words of comfort to her.

“No, no,” he said tenderly, pushing back some tendrils of hair from her face. “What can be dreadful enough to make you weep? It cannot be so terrible, can it? For here you are in the heart of society and you are so greatly sought after. Why, you are a stunning success tonight. So lovely that the world of Paris is at your feet. And you are so wretched? Come, come, tell me what is the matter. It may be that I can help you. For I have come to help you, you know.”

He felt her warm and vital, close against him, and he held her close, whispering all the while, and then he laughed and planted a brief passionless kiss against her hair, which, he noted irrelevantly, had the scent of the rose she wore there.

“No, now you are turning my jacket to ruin. What will Jenkins say? For it is not raining tonight. You will quite turn my reputation with him, you know, for I am not used to reducing females to tears. He will wonder what dreadful things I have been up to, to transmute lovely laughing girls into fountains.”

She drew away, looking ashamed. And after taking his handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes, she looked at him, he thought, with something very much like wonder.

“It's all such a mull,” she said, controlling her voice with effort. “And I'm sorry to have wept all over you. But it has been so dreadful. I did not want to be a social success. No, I did not. I only wanted to fulfill my duties and stay in the background. But then that great fat Frenchman took my hand, above all my protests, and made me dance with him. I didn't want to create a scene, for I thought he could not understand English and my French is so poor. But once we were dancing, I found he spoke English as well as I. And he…he made me the most dreadful offer. That is to say, he supposed me to be something I am not. And no sooner had I gotten away from him when the other took me up. For a moment”—she smiled weakly—“I thought it was him again, but it turned out to be his brother, saying almost the selfsame things.”

“What sort of things?” the marquis asked with a glow of interest in his eyes.

“Promising me all sorts of things,” she said, closing her eyes and waving her hand in dismissal. “Carriages and gowns and jewels. And no matter what I said to both of them, they seemed deaf to my every word and only assured me that they were in earnest.”

“They both promised great riches?” the marquis asked abruptly, an alert look upon his face.

“Yes, yes,” she said. And seeing his abstraction, she said shamefacedly, “I am sorry to have gotten so familiar with you, Your Lordship, and I thank you for trying to set me right again. I shall be leaving now, for even though the duchess is at the tables, I shall ask her to give me leave to return to the hotel. I feel a headache coming on,” she explained hurriedly.

“No, no,” the marquis objected, capturing her hands and smiling down at her. “Let's have none of that. You owe me no thanks, for I have not done anything for you as yet. And let us have no ‘Your Lordships' please; my friends call me Sinjun, and you are my friend. For we have known each other a long time, haven't we? Only we have let a lot of silly misunderstandings get in the way of our friendship. Tell me, Catherine, what is it you want of this journey that neither Pierre nor Hervé can give you? For I am here to help you. We are fellow Englishmen, in a matter of speaking, here in a strange land,” he added, seeing her hesitate.

“I want to go home,” she blurted, looking up at him, an incipient sob in her voice. “That is all. It was wrong of me to come. It is wrong of me to stay.”

“Then why do you stay?” he asked in a low voice.

She hesitated again as he drew her a little closer and said, “Say it, Catherine. For have I not said I am your friend?”

“I must wait until mid March at least,” she said gravely, not looking at him, “for the duchess pays me quarterly. And only then will I have the fare to go home.”

The marquis stiffened imperceptibly, and then he laughed low in his throat. Ah, the little fox, he thought maliciously, it is true. A bird in the hand is worth all of a Frenchman's promises. So be it, he thought, we begin. Yet still he was aware of a strange surge of bitter disappointment. It is only, he thought rapidly, that it was, after all, so simple. Once they begin to speak of money, it always becomes so simple.

“Well then,” he said, the lines of cynicism deep in his smiling face, “that is easy enough to remedy. No need to shed one more wasteful tear. For I have enough in my pocket at this moment to see you home. And more than that in my other coat at home. I shall see that you are able to travel home in style, little one, with even a companion of your own to see you safely arrived. I am only sorry that I cannot be that companion. For I must stay on here awhile longer and cannot now make any plans to leave.”