But then he laid his hand over both of hers, gently prising them apart and replacing her entwined fingers with his own. He didn’t speak, and she was glad. In truth, what was there to say?
‘The carriages are ready to go.’ The abrupt shout came from the doorway, and immediately a cheer went up in the bar. Rafe let go of her hand and got to his feet, quickly folding and tucking the map in his jacket. He had to fight his way outside as everyone was eager to see the Marquis begin the short journey to his ancestral home.
Rafe forced his way through the crowds to the front carriage, clearing a path for Tristan as the new Marquis shook hands, smiled and nodded. Roan was ready and waiting inside, andas soon as Tris was in, Raphael climbed up behind him and slammed the door shut, tapping on the roof in the universal signal to coach drivers everywhere. Gabriel, Hope and Faith were already installed in the second carriage and seconds later they moved off, their growing entourage unexpectedly following alongside and behind.
‘Are they going to follow us all the way up to the Chateau?’ Tristan speculated.
‘It would be good if they did,’ Rafe retorted with a tight smile. ‘I’ve been told that there are no more than half a dozen servants and there doesn’t appear to be any loyalty to Fontaine. I think while he hasn’t actively abused the staff, neither has he inspired any devotion – and naturally they’re all aware of Tristan’s arrival.’
‘We have a lot of bridges to build before Fontaine turns up,’ Roan sighed. ‘And at the end of the day, no matter how enthusiastic the locals are, we cannot allow them to get hurt in any potential crossfire.’
Rafe nodded. ‘I still believe our greatest protection comes from word of mouth. We don’t need fighters, we need gossips.’
Tristan glanced outside again. ‘I’ve a feeling that whatever happens, this day will be spoken about for quite some time,’ he mused thoughtfully. Then, shaking his head, he gave his companions a tight grin. ‘I never realised that suddenly becoming important would be such a bloody difficult thing to get used to.’
‘Who said you’re important?’ Roan growled with a matching grin.
Sudden shouts put an end to their conversation. Raphael leaned out of the window. ‘The gates are open, he told his companions. I’ve walked up three times since we arrived, and every time they’ve been closed.’ He turned to Tristan. ‘I’d like you to give a brief but impassioned speech to the crowd. Rousing, but not provoking, if that makes sense. Then send them home.’
‘Naturally I have a pocketful of impassioned but not provoking speeches,’ Tristan retorted drily. ‘Do you think something’s wrong?’
‘I don’t know,’ Rafe answered, his eyes scanning the Chateau. ‘But as Roan said, I’d rather these people were out of harm’s way. A bunch of dead villagers are no use to us.’
‘I think they’d most likely agree with you,’ Tristan grimaced, taking hold of the door.
As he spoke to the villagers surrounding the carriage, Raphael and Roan kept their eyes on the Chateau. On the face of it, there appeared to be no activity, but that in itself made the Frenchman uneasy. ‘He’s actually pretty good,’ Roan murmured, watching Tristan, his surprise evident in his tone.
‘I think it’s in the blood,’ Rafe stated absently, still staring towards the open gates. After five minutes, there was a loud cheer, lots of clapping on the back as the villagers began drifting back down the road. Seconds later, the two carriages passed through the gate and entered the large courtyard.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur le Marquis.’ the young maid murmured, keeping her eyes downcast as she bobbed a curtsy
Tristan looked up at the old building, his heart thudding. Unexpectedly finding it difficult to swallow, he studied theconical-topped turrets, arched windows and the beautiful soft white limestone walls reflecting the watery sun. This was where he’d been born. Where he’d lived until he was five years old. He walked up the steps to where the maid still waited.
‘You know who I am?’ he commented as he reached her.
‘Of course, Monsieur. The whole village knows of your arrival.’
Taking a deep breath, Tristan finally stepped through the great doors into the large reception hall – and stopped, looking round, sorrow flooding him.
In truth, the hall was in a sorry state. It was obvious that only the bare minimum had been spent on its upkeep. If the rest of the Chateau was in a similar condition, it was going to take a considerable amount of money to bring it back to its former glory.
Plainly, the coin in Montclair’s coffers had long been directed elsewhere.
In addition to the maid, there were only three other servants, one of whom stared at him wordlessly, tears streaming down her face. A woman of at least seventy summers, her name, Tristan learned, was Madame Durand. She’d been the housekeeper for his parents. As he got closer to her, she tried to dip into a curtsy, but Tristan hurriedly took hold of her elbows before she fell over.
‘I cannot believe it’s you, Monsieur le Marquis,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘We all believed you dead. Monsieur Fontaine said you had been killed along with your parents.’
‘Well, as you can see, Madame Durand, I am very much alive, and I am very happy to see you again.’ He couldn’t help wondering why the elderly servant was still residing in thechateau since she was clearly too old to work. Mayhap Fontaine had a compassionate side to him when he wasn’t trying to murder the competition.
‘Will you be staying… Monsieur le Marquis?’ This time from a middle-aged woman whose tone was much more guarded. Raphael didn’t miss her slight pause as she spoke the name.
‘Naturally,’ Tristan told her. ‘This is my home.’
‘It has been Monsieur Fontaine’s home for some years now,’ the woman answered.
Tristan looked around the bleak hall before raising his eyebrows. He did not comment, but the inference was obvious. By now he was flanked by Raphael and Roan, and behind him, Gabriel, Hope and Faith. His companions remained silent, knowing it was imperative Tristan stake his claim on the Chateau without their interference.
‘I am truly grateful to Monsieur Fontaine for stepping in to take care of the Chateau,’ Tristan continued steadily at length, ‘but since he has been its caretaker, I’m sure you agree that it is notactuallyhis home. I will of course be delighted to find him somewhere else to live after we have had the chance to go through the estate accounts.’ He glanced obviously around the hall. ‘May I ask where Monsieur Fontaine is now?’
