Suzanne smiled at the Merciers and said in French, “The house is lovely and you’ve kept it well.”
Looking pleased, Madame Mercier replied in the same language, “Thank you, Madame la Comtesse.” After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “Would monsieur and madam like to have a light luncheon here? There isn’t time to prepare a proper meal, but I can offer simple bistro fare, a beef bourguignon stew and good French bread.”
The thought made Suzanne’s mouth water. She had too little money to eat well. “I should like that above all things! It’s been years since I’ve had decent French cooking.”
The couple gave approving smiles. Mercier suggested, “Would monsieur and madam like a glass of wine while the meal is prepared?”
Good French wine, Suzanne hoped, but she said, “I’d like to see the rest of the house, Simon, if that’s not too impolite of me.”
“I’d like to show it to you. I’ll ring when we’re done, Mercier. We’ll eat in the breakfast room.”
The Merciers inclined their heads and withdrew, probably to speculate on the meaning of Suzanne’s presence at their master’s side. She wished them luck with their speculations since she, herself, had no idea what the future held.
Simon offered his arm. “Shall we explore, milady?”
She took his arm with a smile. Even if she decided marriage would be unwise, at the least she’d get a good French meal out of this expedition.
Chapter 3
Wishing he could read Suzanne’s mind, Simon kept a close eye on her as he showed her through the public rooms, then led her upstairs to the next floor. Her gaze was calm and unreadable as she studied her surroundings. Though he’d always loved this house, it was modest compared to the palatial homes Suzanne had lived in. But it was certainly better than the boardinghouse where she lived now.
Their first stop on the bedroom floor was his parents’ rooms at the back of the house. “This bedroom on the left was my mother’s.” He opened the door for Suzanne so she could enter. “My father’s room is the mirror image on the other side of the house and there’s a small sitting room between. My mother liked the quiet in the back of the house, and there’s a good view of the garden.”
Suzanne moved to the window and gazed down. “Even in February, the garden looks pleasant. In summer it must be beautiful.”
“My mother loved gardening, though this one has been neglected for years. The planting season is coming so I need to find a good gardener.”
She turned from the window. “Where is your room? Or would you rather not visit that?”
She was perceptive in picking up his uneasiness, which made him doubly glad to have her company on this painful return to his home. “My bedroom was at the front of the house next to Lucas’s room. The better for us to commit mischief together.”
She smiled. “Then by all means I’d like to see it.”
He escorted her the length of the house to his room, bracing himself as he opened the door. As Suzanne moved by him, she asked softly, “Too many good memories here?”
Suppressing a sigh, he replied, “I didn’t know how happy my life had been until I lost all the people I cared about.”
She nodded with sad understanding, then drifted around the canopy bed, her fingertips brushing the coverlet, her gaze scanning the overflowing bookcase. She paused by the open shelves that held his childhood collection of interesting rocks and crystals and small wooden carvings of animals. She lifted one to study it more closely. “A British lion, I see. Did you carve these? They’re very well done.”
“Lucas made them.”
She must have heard something in his voice because she carefully set the lion back in its place and moved to the window that looked out on the quiet street below and the iron-fenced park in the middle of the square. With her elegance and perfect proportions, even her back was lovely to observe.
Beauty.It had been so long since he’d felt the beauty of the world. Women were one of God’s most beautiful creations, yet he had stopped recognizing that a long time ago. He tried to remember back to the time before desire had been burned out of him by war and violence. The young man he’d been then would have wanted to move behind Suzanne and wrap his arms around her waist and murmur sweet words in hopes of invoking a matching response in her.
He could barely remember that young man, but he could at least recognize that Suzanne had the beauty of grace, experience, and wisdom. It was a deeper beauty than she’d had as a radiant young girl, and more interesting. The weary man he was now wasn’t interested in seduction, but he liked being with her.
He crossed the room to stand beside her, careful not to touch. But he couldn’t prevent himself from asking, “Can you imagine yourself living in this house?”
“This has been a happy house,” she said slowly. “I can feel that, and how it yearns to come alive again. And yet . . .” She turned to face him, her expression troubled. “I have spent almost all my life caged by men. As a child, as a very young wife, and as a harem slave. I enjoy the freedom I have now.”
“But not the poverty, I assume.”
“Definitely not the poverty,” she agreed. “Yet if I have a roof over my head and enough to eat, it’s preferable to some of my other living situations.”
That adaptability was probably why she’d survived so much. “Though I’ve never been actually poor, in my army years, I sometimes lived like a beggar.” He smiled ruefully. “I most certainly did not enjoy the hunger, cold, and general miseries, but the experience has deepened my appreciation of life’s comforts.”
“Do you miss the camaraderie of being in the army?” she asked. “Leading your men into battle, sharing triumph and loss as well as the miseries? Is the lack of that camaraderie why you yearn for companionship now?”
