Mark shook his head, bringing his thoughts back to theDuchesse de Frontenac’s ballroom and his gaze back to Nicole’s familiar face. Memories were dangerous. Theycould make you want things that were impossible, like people to be different from who they were.
“Is she happy here?” he asked, turning his attention back to theduchesse. The words surprised him. He hadn’t meant to ask them.
Theduchesseglanced wistfully in Nicole’s direction. “She spends her time at the local orphanage, tending to the children.”
Mark furrowed his brow. An orphanage?Thatwas surprising. Was that what Nicole wanted him to think she was doing? Had she asked theduchesseto tell him that? He narrowed his eyes on theduchesse.“And?” That wasn’t all Nicole spent her time doing. He was certain of it.
Theduchesseshrugged. “She occasionally assists the local police with solving a crime or two.”
“Thegendarmerie?” Mark’s crack of laughter shot across the room. “Thatsounds more like her.”
“Yes. Thegendarmerieare quite thankful and extremely discreet.”
“Does thecomteknow what she does?” Mark couldn’t keep himself from asking, again imagining his hands around thecomte’s slender throat.
“You’d have to ask thecomte,” theduchessereplied with a wry smile.
Mark stared across the room at the couple. “Are they lovers?” If he were going to ask a great many blunt questions this evening, he might as well ask the one he wanted to know the most.
Theduchesseclucked her tongue. “Ah, my dear general, you’d have to ask your wife that question, for I am not one to tell such secrets.”
“The French do love their secrets,” he intoned, his hand tightening around the snifter.
“Oui,”theduchessereplied, taking another dainty sip from her champagne flute.
Mark nodded toward Nicole and her band of admirers, staring down thecomte. “He wants her, doesn’t he?”
The hint of a smile touched theduchesse’s lips. “Of course. They all do, but her heart belongs to only one.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
When thecomteopened the doors to the balcony, a slight breeze brushed the hair away from Nicole’s forehead. She stepped outside ahead of Henri while he held open the door. She strolled over to the balustrade, braced her hands on it, closed her eyes, and breathed in the heavy scent of lavender.
Thecomte’s boots tapped out the sound of his slow approach. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked.
“Immensely.” She opened her eyes and turned to face him, a forced smile on her lips. “I simply needed a bit of fresh air.”
Thecomtetipped his head back toward the brightly lit ballroom. “Is he bothering you? I can ask him to leave if—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Nicole didn’t have the heart to tell Henri that “asking” Mark to leave wouldbe an exercise in futility. The man did precisely what he wanted, precisely when he wanted to do it.
“Why has he come?” Henri asked, his light blue eyes probing, his white-blond hair slightly stirred by the breeze.
Nicole sighed. She opened her mouth to answer just as the doors to the balcony flew open and Mark came striding out, two glasses of brandy balanced perfectly in one hand. With a look on his face that was both smug and confident, he marched up to them and offered one of the glasses to Nicole. “I thought I’d replace that weak champagne with something you’d prefer.”
She arched a brow at him. “Subtle as ever, I see.”
Henri tugged on the lapels of his yellow embroidered silk coat and cleared his throat. “Monsieur, the lady and I were having aprivateconversation and—”
“And now the lady andIintend to have one.” Mark plucked the champagne glass from Nicole’s fingers, deposited it in thecomte’s limp hand, and waved him away. “If you would be so kind as to return this to the kitchens, I’m certain Madame Grimaldi would be thankful.”
Henri’s nostrils flared. He was no doubt wondering precisely how rude an Englishman could be. Unfortunately for him, he had no clue how impolite and stubborn thisparticularEnglishman could be. Nicole needed to intervene, to diffuse the situation. “It’s fine, Henri. The general obviously has something he wants to say.”
“Will you be all right?” Henri asked, searching her face solicitously.
“Oui,”she replied simply, nodding, grateful for Henri’s concern.
Behind Henri’s back, Mark rolled his eyes. Nicole narrowed her eyes at Mark, but soon the Frenchman was on his way back to the ballroom with both glasses of champagne clutched in his fists, the tails of his long coat flapping behind him.
