The Price of Deception (12 page)

Suzette touched Philippe’s hand, which lay limp in
his lap. “What will you do? The business is now yours, is it
not?”

“What’s left of it.” He swallowed the thick lump in
his throat. “I don’t want you to be concerned, Suzette, but things
have not gone well with the business for the past year. We were
struggling. There have been losses.”

“Losses?” A confused look came across Suzette’s face,
“I don’t understand, Philippe. You never said anything.” Her faced
turned angry, and her voice rose. “Why haven’t you said anything?”
Suzette pulled her hand away and jumped to her feet. A sense of
dread crawled across her face.

“We’ve had a few setbacks,” he continued. Philippe
walked toward her for reassurance. He placed his hands on her
shoulders. “Everything will be all right. I’ll find a new investor,
and things will turn around. In the meantime, we will need to cut
back on expenses, and I may need to travel in the future to search
out new customers.”

Suzette’s countenance fell, and the familiar crinkled
brow of worry came upon her face.

“I want to know what you mean. What are you
proposing?”

Philippe sighed. His gaze crawled dismally to the
floor, and his shoulders drooped low. “We’ll need to sell the
house, Suzette, and let go of the staff until I can recoup some of
the losses. I also promised Jacques I would look after his wife and
child, which means I need to help support them until I can return
Jacques’ share of his business for his family to have something to
live upon.”

He committed himself to the difficult job of caring
for two families, but what choice did he have? Philippe worried
whether Suzette would understand his obligation to the Duval
family, but Jacques had suffered financial loss too. Philippe
watched tears spill down his wife’s cheeks as she processed the
gravity of the situation.

“I’m afraid, Philippe.” She laid her head upon his
chest. Philippe encircled her with his arms and held her shaking
body.

“I swear, Suzette, I shall take care of you. Do not
fear. We’ll get through this.”

At that moment, Philippe felt like an utter failure.
His only recourse to find another investor in his business had to
be done quickly or file for bankruptcy. If it ended up being the
latter, then he would need to find other work immediately.

“Suzette, I need to return and make arrangements to
meet with our solicitor regarding these matters,” he announced,
when he released her from his embrace. “I need to tell the office
and crew of Jacques’ passing too.” He looked at her
sympathetically. “Please, my love, do not worry.”

Easy to say
, he thought, as the empty words
left his mouth. The concern over the future pushed down upon his
shoulders, and his strength waned under the pressure. He felt as if
his legs would give way at any moment; but for the sake of his wife
and his pride, he struggled not to show his fears.

Chapter Ten

Robert’s patience wore thin. It had been an entire
month since he hired the investigator and returned to England.
Nothing arrived by post. As he pondered another trip to Paris to
take matters into his own hands, a courier finally delivered a
communication, which contained the information he anxiously
awaited.

He quickly snatched the letter from
his butler and promptly made his way to his study. He closed the
door behind him, shoved his finger underneath the seal, and tore
the lip of the envelope open. His hands trembled when he pulled out
the paper inside.

Robert fixed his eyes upon the
words, but his mind could not focus on the writing. The letters
blurred in his vision, which sent his anxiousness soaring to new
heights. He needed a drink. Robert placed the document on his
desktop, and quickly walked to the decanter, pulled the top, and
poured a glass of brandy.

He slowly turned around and faced
the communiqué. Robert held the crystal in his hand and stared at
the letter lying on the desktop. Why did he stand there with
foreboding hesitation? It contained the answers he sought. Perhaps
he feared the truth after all.

After a few sips of alcohol, he
finally returned to his desk and sat down. He chewed on his lower
lip as he lifted the letter and read the report.

Duke Holland,

As requested, I am writing to you with our findings
regarding Philippe Moreau. Below is a chronological record of what
we have discovered.

In July 1878, Lt. Philippe Moreau resigned his
commission, with honors, from the Royal French Navy. On August 12,
1878, he entered into a partnership business with one Jacques
Duval, registering a shipping business in the name of Duval &
Moreau Shipping. Three ships were originally purchased; one has
since been lost at sea, one sold, and the remaining is heavily
mortgaged.

Monsieur Moreau’s partner recently died, and the
company is on the brink of bankruptcy. We have noted in the
business section of the Paris news that Monsieur Moreau is actively
seeking a new business investor. It appears that financial affairs
are grim. His current residence is up for sale. Our investigations
with his employees reveal he has given them notice that they will
be let go at the end of the month, except for one housemaid.

As far as his personal life, Philippe Moreau married
a Camille Rousseau in November of 1878, two children have been born
of the marriage. Robert Philippe Moreau, birth date May 2, 1879,
and Angelique Juliet Moreau, born March 21, 1884. His wife and
children currently reside at his current residence of 82 rue . .
.

Robert’s grip slipped from his glass of brandy, which
sent it flying to the floor. It hit the tile beneath his feet and
shattered.

“Camille . . . Camille . . .” he
repeated, refreshing his memory. Confused over the name, he
strained to put the pieces of the perplexing puzzle together.
Philippe’s voice spoke in the recesses of his memory, as it had
years ago over lunch.

“I wish to know your intentions, Monsieur, regarding
Suzette Camille Rousseau.”

Robert recalled his answer as if it
just left his lips that moment.
“Camille. I didn’t know
that was her middle name. Yes, a virgin when I met
her.
”

When he realized the deception, he
bellowed aloud, “The bastard lied to me!”

His boot crunched the broken glass
underneath his foot, when he stomped across the room in a heated
rage of anger. A knock came at the door, and Robert took the papers
from his desk, shoved them into a drawer, and slammed it shut.
“Come in,” he barked.

“Are you all right, Duke Holland? I heard something
shatter.” His butler stood in the doorway surveying the mess
beneath his feet.

“I dropped a glass. Nothing more. Clean it up.”

Robert could barely push the words
from between his clenched jaw. He felt his heart choke the breath
from his lungs. Rashly, he pushed past the butler and out of his
study. He strode heavily down the hall with his heels clicking upon
the tiled floor. He seized the door handle, flung it open, and
walked outside into the fresh air.

Robert headed straight for the
stables. Without a word to the groomsman, he grabbed a saddle and
bridle and readied his horse. Within minutes, he sped down the
tree-lined drive and crossed the fields, deep into the countryside.
He wanted to get far away from his estate, prying eyes, and ears
that would eavesdrop over the words he needed to spew from his
mouth.

With each hoof that beat the ground
with loud thumps, Robert’s heart beat in rhythm,
“She’s alive . . . she’s alive . . . she’s alive
. . .”

He galloped at full speed to rid his body of the
adrenalin that gushed through his veins. Robert pushed Adara to the
limit, frantic to release his emotions. Unable to think beyond the
shock of the moment, he galloped miles before he finally slowed his
horse to a trot. The animal’s coat dripped with sweat.

Robert spotted a large oak tree
with plenty of shade and came to a halt and dismounted. He let his
horse graze nearby, while he plopped down at the base of the tree
trunk and leaned back. Out of breath, he rested his head against
the rough bark and closed his eyes. Robert’s fury boiled beneath
the surface.

Philippe had lied. Suzette had used her middle name
on their marriage registration rather than her first. There could
be no other reason than to hide and disappear, though it
undoubtedly had been a poor attempt on both of their parts.

Of course, if Robert hadn’t happened upon his son and
Philippe in the park, perhaps he would have never bothered to
investigate the matter. He hadn’t done so in the past. In fact,
there had been plenty of trips to Paris where he had successfully
wiped Suzette from his memory—at least he thought he had.

Robert’s emotions teetered
dangerously at the breaking point. He clearly remembered the day he
decided to let Suzette go, while lunching on a plate of roasted
duck. Yes, he had done the honorable thing, but she had turned and
abandoned him before he even spoke the words. Had they planned
their deception all along? Did Philippe know she carried his
child?

A flurry of curse words escaped his lips, and his
knuckles balled into fists of rage. Suzette’s womb held his baby
when she left—his child! Why didn’t she tell him? Why lie to him?
Why, why, why? The question echoed in his mind like an unanswered
prayer.

Robert stood. His body shook. He wanted to scream,
yell, or punch something to release his emotion. For years, he had
tried to have a child—a son to continue the Holland line. His soul
had cried its tears of disappointment. The days that should have
been his, filled with joy and pride in raising a son, had been
enjoyed instead by his rival.

After the rash thoughts had spoken their mind, a
broad smile burst across his face. I have a son—a fine, handsome
young lad. At that moment, Robert knew he would travel to Hell and
back to raise him as his own and quickly decided he needed to
involve himself in their lives—all three of them in one way or the
other.

The words of the report came back
to him.
“We have noted in the business
section of the Paris news that Monsieur Moreau is actively seeking
new investors for his business.”

The perfect opportunity had
presented itself. Robert decided to invest in the business
anonymously. He would own half of their lives to do with as he
wished. At least it would keep a roof over their heads. That was
his major concern now—to provide for his son and Suzette when her
useless husband had failed to do so.

At present, he could not
acknowledge the child as his, but some day the boy would know his
true father. It would only be a matter of time. Robert vowed it as
he inhaled a deep breath and felt peace blanket him in a mirage of
hope.

* * * *

Philippe met with his attorney to
talk about his options after Jacque Duval’s funeral. Arrangements
had been made to sell the Duval residence and relocate the family
to a smaller and more affordable flat in Paris. Thankfully,
Jacques’ nephew felt some compassion upon his uncle’s relatives and
gave to his widow and daughter a reasonable stipend to live upon.
Though their living conditions had been substantially reduced, they
were not homeless.

Philippe felt enormous relief that their care had
been undertaken by another and turned his attention to his own
pressing financial matters. He determined to rebuild the shipping
business and pay back to Jacques’ family the half interest in the
firm for the sake of their continued welfare.

Arrangements were made with the company creditors to
bide more time before any foreclosure occurred on his remaining
ship. Drastic measures on a personal level were ready to be put in
place regarding his outlay of expenses at home. The majority of his
staff would be released, and Suzette would pick up more
responsibilities with cooking and cleaning.

The beautiful home they had purchased had already
been put up for sale, but no offers were forthcoming. Philippe made
a difficult decision that if it did not immediately sell, it would
be rented out instead. His family would take a smaller flat in the
center of town to compensate until things turned around.

To his relief, there had been no further word of
Robert. He had passed his residence located in the exclusive area
of Paris and noted that it had once again been closed. Another
small secret, which he had kept over the years, had to do with the
knowledge of its location.

Philippe confirmed Robert’s departure and told
Suzette all was safe. After hearing the news, her worries of
discovery melted away.

After Philippe decided to employ his financial
recovery plan, he received word from his solicitor that he needed
to speak with him immediately. He feared that rumors had spread
around town and creditors began calling in their loans. It would
only be a matter of time now before total ruin knocked on his
door.

The mere thought drove his nerves
to the cutting edge. He anxiously arrived at his solicitor’s office
to hear what would certainly be miserable news. The clerk announced
his arrival, while Philippe sat in the waiting room fretfully
rubbing his fingers around the rim of his hat. He glanced
annoyingly at the clock on the wall, which played its tick tock
tune adding to his jitters. Finally, after a ten-minute wait, the
door opened, and Monsieur Benoit invited Philippe into his office
chambers.

“Ah, Philippe.” He greeted him
with an unexpressive face. “Come in and let’s talk.”

Philippe reluctantly entered and found a chair in
front of his solicitor’s desk and sat down. Monsieur Benoit
shuffled a stack of papers across his mahogany desktop.