Velvet Embrace (63 page)

The question surprised her. She had been vaguely aware that someone was crying, but hadn't even realized it was Katherine. The elderly woman had collapsed in a chair and was sobbing softly into her hands.

Finally comprehending what Julian had said, Brie glanced once more at her grandfather. There was nothing more anyone could do for him. The realization left her feeling sick and
shaken,
but
she made a determined effort to quell her nausea and nodded in answer to Julian's question.

"Good girl," he said, squeezing her hand. "See if you can find a place for her to lie down. I'll just be a moment."

Obediently, Brie went to the weeping woman and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Come, Katherine," she urged, aware that Dominic was watching her. She desperately wanted to know what he was thinking, but she couldn't find the courage to ask him, or even to look at him,
Involuntarily
, her gaze returned to Sir Charles, and she shuddered. It could so easily have been Dominic whose life had ended in that one brief moment.

She led Katherine from the room, conscious all the while of Dominic's eyes following her. Upstairs, she found a small parlor where they could wait in relative comfort. After making Katherine lie down on the sofa, Brie settled in the wing chair opposite and tried to keep her thoughts focused on anything but what had just happened in the study.

Julian joined them about ten minutes later, bringing with him a decanter of cognac and three glasses. "This is quality stuff," he said as he poured the brandy, "but I had the devil of a time finding it. The servants are all in an uproar because of the shooting, though I'll wager they are more concerned for their jobs than for Sir Charles. Here, drink this, Miss Hewitt. You'll feel much better." Helping Katherine sit up, he handed her a full glass, then poured one for Brie.
"You too, Brie.
You look as if you could use something to settle your nerves."

Brie accepted her glass and obediently took a swallow, gasping as it burned a path from her throat to her stomach. "How . . . how is Dominic?" she ventured to ask.

Julian shot her a quizzical glance as he sat in the chair beside her. "Dominic is fine. The ball passed clear through the flesh of his upper arm. I've sent for a doctor, though, and the local authorities."

"But you said he was fine. Why does he need a doctor?"

Seeing her worried look, Julian quickly shook his head. "He doesn't, but a doctor must verify the cause of Sir Charles' death. And it won't hurt to have him take a look at Dominic's arm at the same time."

"Oh," Brie said, biting her lip.

"You realize, don't you, that the authorities will want an explanation?"

"But Dominic has done nothing wrong!"

"No, certainly not," Julian soothed. "Sir Charles fired at Dominic without any warning and Jacques shot back. But there will probably be an inquiry of some kind."

Brie lowered her gaze to her glass and stared at it for a moment. Then she looked up again. "What are you and Katherine doing here? How did you find me?"

Affronted by the question, Julian suddenly shed his fatherly air. "What do you think we're doing here? You disappeared the morning after that fiasco at the ball without leaving a note, without saying a single word to anyone. When Katherine discovered you gone, she came to me. She was frantic with worry, thinking perhaps that Dominic had kidnapped you."

Brie had the grace to flush. "Of course he didn't kidnap me. He never wanted to see me again. I followed him."

Julian frowned for a moment longer,
then
sighed. "I guessed as much. Either way, we were concerned for you. Whatever possessed you to go off like that?"

"I had to, Julian. I couldn't bear to leave things as they were."

There was another short silence before Julian nodded. "Dom had told me a little about the business with your grandfather, so when you
disappeared,
Katherine and I put the pieces together. We thought you might be in need of support."

Realizing her companion hadn't said a word during their entire conversation, Brie turned a questioning gaze on Katherine. She was sitting with her head
bowed,
nervously twisting the ends of her shawl while tears fell silently down her cheeks.

Brie leaned forward in her chair. "Katherine?" she said gently. "Katherine, dearest, you mustn't cry for Sir Charles. He doesn't deserve your sympathy."

Katherine buried her face in her hands. "Ah, child, if you only knew."

"If I knew what?
Katherine, why are you crying? Please, won't you tell me what is troubling you?" When she received no response, her patience gave out. "Katherine, surely you don't condone what my grandfather did? My God, he tried to kill Lord Stanton! Not once, but several times. Sir Charles would probably still be alive if he hadn't shot first."

"Take it easy, Brie," Julian said, laying a restraining hand on her arm.

"And end such a spirited defense? No, Julian, by all means let her continue."

The cool voice had come from the doorway, and immediately three pairs of eyes swung to where Dominic stood with his arm braced in a sling. The reaction of the room's occupants to his appearance was varied. Julian frowned, Brie flushed and lowered her eyes, and Katherine stiffened.

Julian was the first to recover. "Dominic, I'm afraid there are some things you don't know about Sir Charles."

Dominic raised a dark eyebrow. "And I suppose you mean to tell me.
Very well, then.
Please get on with it." He strode into the room, taking up a position behind Brie's chair, resting one hand negligently on the tall back.

Julian threw an apologetic glance at Katherine,
then
cleared his throat. "Miss Hewitt knows why your father was arrested."

Dominic's gray eyes narrowed at Katherine. "Is this true?" he asked sharply.

"She was there the night—"

Dominic held up his hand, effectively quelling Julian's speech. "Allow Miss Hewitt to speak, if you will."

"Honestly, Dominic," Brie interrupted. "Must you be so harsh? Can't you see she is upset?" Intending to comfort Katherine, Brie rose halfway in her chair, but Dominic's hand firmly pressed her back down.

"Miss Hewitt?" he repeated softly, the underlying steel in his voice brooking no argument.

"Lord Denville is correct, my lord," Katherine whispered.

There was a lengthy pause while she appeared to be gathering the nerve to continue. Then she clasped her hands tightly in her lap and began to speak. "I was here when the tragedy began—and it was a tragedy. I was
Lisette
Durham's companion then, as well as a governess of sorts for her daughter Suzanne. I know, Brie," Katherine added at Brie's sharp intake of breath. "I should have told you before now. But it seemed pointless. While she was alive, your
mama forbid
me to speak of it. And afterwards . . . well, there seemed to be no reason to dig up the past. It was such a sordid story that I thought you better off not knowing."

Katherine hesitated, her gaze momentarily lifting to Dominic's. Then she dropped her eyes and kept them trained on Brie. "It happened in '92. That spring and summer . . . Sir Charles was gone much of the time, travelling around Europe. He left
Lisette
alone too much of the time. She was French, you see." At Brie's blank look, Katherine leaned forward. "
Lisette
was . . . gentle. She didn't have your strength, Brie,
nor
your mama's for that matter. Suzanne was away at a finishing school and
Lisette
was lonely. She began seeing the Comte de
Valdois
.

"I tried to warn her that no good would come from encouraging a man like that, but she just laughed. She was like a butterfly, attracted to pretty flowers. Then one day she came home with her gown torn and dirty. There were . . . bruises on her body. She had such a stunned look on her face that my heart nearly broke. The
comte
had . . . the
comte
had forced himself upon her."

Since Dominic was behind her, Brie couldn't see his expression, but she could feel his fingers tighten reflexively on her shoulder. She wondered if he would challenge Katherine's statement, but he said nothing.

There was a tense silence while the elderly woman wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief. Then she took a deep breath. "
Lisette
begged me to keep it a secret from her husband, and I agreed. Sir Charles was such a jealous man that he would have killed anyone who touched his wife. But I made her promise never to go near the
comte
again.
I . . .
I took
Lisette
to a woman in the village, and she was given a remedy that made her vilely ill. For a time I even feared for her life . . . but she recovered. She never again was as gay and carefree as she once had been, but I thought she was beginning to recover from her . . . her experience, as well.

"Some two months later, we received word that Sir Charles was coming home.
Lisette
seemed upset, but I thought . . . I thought she was simply nervous, you see."

When Katherine gave a choked sob, Brie couldn't bear watching such grief any longer. Shrugging off Dominic's hand, she went to sit beside Katherine and put an arm about her.

Katherine wouldn't be comforted, though. Tears were streaming down her lined cheeks as if they would never stop. "I should have known!" she cried with a vehemence that was startling to her listeners. "The day before Sir Charles was to
arrive,
I woke to find a letter beside my bed. It was from
Lisette
, addressed to me. I tore it open. . . . 'When you read this, I shall be gone.' That was how it began. At first, I thought
Lisette
must have run away, but then I read further.
Lisette
had realized she was to have a child, the
comte's
child. She . . . she took her life . . . because she couldn't bear the shame."

Sobbing brokenly, Katherine buried her face in her hands, while Brie stroked her hair gently, trying to comfort her. Brie wanted desperately to know how Dominic was taking all these revelations, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She glanced at Julian instead and saw he was staring fixedly at the carpet.

Dominic was the first to break the silence. "And I suppose Suzanne Durham discovered the reason for her mother's death and wanted revenge," he said in a tired voice.

"Monsieur le Comte, pardon-
moi
."
The voice had come from behind Dominic, and they all turned to stare at the intruder. He was a man about aged fifty, well dressed, carrying a black bag—a physician by all appearances.

"Yes?" Dominic said impatiently.

"If I may be permitted, monsieur," the doctor replied in faltering English. "I have information to add to this lady's story. You are le Comte de
Valdois
?"