And so, because Simone needed to tell someone, she did.
“Didier was being punished. He’d been caught in the village setting fire to bits of brush. Naught of consequence, until one of the sparks lit upon a privy and burned it to the ground.” Simone studied her dressing gown, picked at a loose thread as the memories of those days fell upon her as clean and clear and cold as winter rain. “His playthings were confiscated, and he was made to ride in the carriage with me and my maids to the Beauville estate.” She looked up at Nicholas. “My betrothed’s home. I was to marry the next day.”
Her eyes fell back to her lap. “Papa charged me with his care. I was quite trepidatious about becoming a married woman and had no wish to add Didier to my list of burdens that day.”
Nicholas nodded.
“Didier was furious at being forced to travel with us, like an infant. He wanted to follow on his own horse, withMamanand Papa, and with his soldier things. So when the carriage slowed to round a bend still some short distance from our home, Didier escaped the carriage and ran back to Saint du Lac.”
“You did not follow him?” Nicholas asked quietly. His tone was not accusatory, but Simone bristled all the same.
“I was young. So very much younger than I am now, it seems, only a year later. As I said, my head was filled with thoughts of my upcoming nuptials and, in truth, I was piqued at Papa for forcing me to play nursemaid.” She swallowed. “So, yea, I let him go without chase.”
After a moment, she continued. “I was already abed that night, in my guest chambers at the Beauville’s. Not long after I had fallen asleep, Didier pounced upon my bed—although I had been certain the door was bolted—pale as could be, soaking wet and shivering. He would not speak.” Simone could hear her own voice growing quieter, smaller. “I railed at him for invading my chamber. Then, Papa entered, covered in soot, raving and sobbing, ‘Where is Didier, Simone? Where is my son? Where? Where?’ I had to tell him of Didier’s escape from the carriage.
“Then, because my father could not, Charles told me about the stable fire. My mother was dead—trapped inside. Didier, missing.”
Nicholas poured another chalice of wine and handed it to Simone. She took it with a trembling hand and drank gratefully.
“Did you tell them that you had seen Didier in your chamber?”
She nodded.
“What did they say?”
Simone gave a rueful chuckle. “Charles was horrified. He told me I was mad with guilt for allowing Didier to escape.” She looked at Nicholas. “Charles called off the betrothal and I never saw him again.”
Nicholas nodded once more. “And your father? What did he do?”
Simone looked down into her lap again. The truth was painful, humiliating. “He scoured the countryside for Didier, for days, although I told him Didier would not be found. When Papa finally accepted that his worst fear had come true, he…he beat me. Told me that if I ever again mentioned the name of his son whom I murdered, he would set me from him. That he has worked so hard to see me secured in marriage, come all this way…I am grateful.”
Nicholas frowned. He gestured toward the charred piece of wood still resting on the table. “Where did you get this?”
“Several days after the accident, Didier had mastered speech. He told me he’d gone to the keep to get his things and then to the stables to fetch his mount—’twas as much as he could remember before the fire. I went to the stable ruins at night and dug through the ashes.” She looked at the small piece of wood, made to fit a young boy’s palm. “’Twas all that was left.”
“You didn’t give it to your father.” It was not a question, but an observation.
“Nay. I’ve told no one how I know for certain Didier was lost in the fire. Save for you, this night.” She looked at him and tilted her chin. “It’s mine now. Didier wanted me to have it.”
Nicholas was silent for a very long time, staring across the chamber, drinking from his chalice.
Simone could stand the tension no longer. “Lord Nicholas, do you still intend to have our marriage dissolved?”
He looked at her. “Nay. It no longer suits me to do so.”
Simone’s heart skipped. “You believe me, then?”
Nicholas set his empty cup on the table and rose from his chair. “Not necessarily,” he said, moving away from her and toward the bed. “It is—”
“Why?” Simone cried, also coming to her feet. “What else must I do to—?”
The baron’s frown silenced her. “I am not accustomed to being interrupted, Simone.”
“I’m sorry. Do go on.” She clasped her hands before her.
He cocked a wry eyebrow at her cheekiness but continued, undressing casually as he spoke. “Only hours ago, I would not have believed what I’ve witnessed tonight was possible. Although, my sister-in-lawisa witch, so it should not surprise me that things beyond reasonable explanation exist. Even so, I still know not what to make of them.”
“Lady Haith is a…a witch?”
