Her fingers curled tightly around her wineglass while her heart continued to hammer in her chest. “You bastard,” she ground out.
He grinned as he took a sip of his wine. “I assure you I’m no bastard. Although you must know that that is an option for you. You could have yourcomteimpregnate you. I’ve been here for two days. No one would gainsay you if you turned up with a babe, say, nine months from now.”
A growl roiled in her chest, threatening to break free. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
“I don’t know that at all.” The humor in his features faded. “I don’t know who you are anymore.”
A sort of hopelessness fell over them, smothering the banter. “Did you ever?” she whispered, staring at her wineglass and not him.
They sat in a mournful silence for what felt like an eternity before Nicole slowly lifted her glass to her lips and drained it. She glanced at Mark. “Damn you. Why are you making this so difficult?”
He regarded her somberly, leaning back in his chair. “Seems you’re the one making it difficult, sweetheart. If you want my child, a legitimate heir, you simply have to agree to enjoy yourself in bed with your husband. That doesn’t seem like too much to ask. I fail to see why you’re fighting it.”
Nicole blew out a long breath. She had to think about this reasonably. Rationally. To take the emotion out of it. The man was right. Damn him straight to hell, he was right. She was being ridiculous. More importantly, he’d already staked his offer by saying he would return to England. She knew him well enough to know that once he made such a claim his damned pride would keep him from changing his mind.
If she wanted a baby, a legitimate baby, she wouldhave to agree to his terms. He’d got her.Merde.There was no way she would try to claim an illegitimate child as his. It wasn’t in her nature. She was married, by God. Perhaps not happily, but she took her commitment seriously and she refused to cuckold her husband, no matter what he’d been doing all these years. She had never heard any gossip about his light-o’-loves, but then again, it was one of the reasons she lived so far away. Hearing about him would only hurt, and she’d forbidden her mother from mentioning news of him. It didn’t keep Mother from asking about her marriage, but it did keep the woman from sharing any tidbits she might have heard about Mark from the London gossip mills.
Nicole stood and tossed her napkin onto the seat of the chair. “I’ve lost my appetite. I assume you’ve already arranged passage for us back to London?”
He inclined his head, that infuriating grin returning to his lips. “Naturally.”
“Fine. I agree to your terms and I want to leave at sunrise on the morrow. The sooner we get this over with, the better.” She turned on her heel and stalked from the room.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Mark arrived at Nicole’s house just as the sun was emerging the next morning. Mist was still rising from the surrounding lavender fields, and deer frolicked by the side of the long winding dirt road that led up to the house. Mark rolled down the carriage’s window shade and looked around. He sucked in two lungsful of crisp, early morning air, pungent with the scent of lavender. France would be a lovely country… if his enemies hadn’t lived here.
In town, he’d hired a coach to drive them the entire way to Calais, where they would board a packet to Dover. The journey would take two days. After dinner last night, which he’d finished with a triumphant smile on his face, he’d spent the remainder of the evening searching for the best accommodations he could find on short notice. He’d managed to locate a reasonably comfortable conveyance with a reasonably sober driver. More importantly, the man was willing to drive them the entire way to Calais… after Mark had offered to pay him handsomely, of course.
Nicole was late. Wasn’t she always? Mark waited in the foyer, his hands clasped behind him, rocking back and forth on his heels, while she and her maid scurried about upstairs. He’d consulted his gold pocket watch at least three times before Nicole finally emerged at the top of the staircase. He glanced up at her and his heart thumped faster. She carried herself regally in a gray traveling gown with a silver pelisse and matching bonnet. She was dressed for him, for a journey they were about to take together. He had the oddest sense that he was taking her home.
Two footmen preceded her, carrying one large trunk between them. A blue and white embroidered satchel rested in the crook of her arm and her gray silk reticule dangled from her opposite wrist. She gave Mark a smug look as she marched down the steps and past him out the front door toward the waiting coach.
“I hired a carriage large enough for your maid to ride with us,” Mark said, jogging to catch up with her. He hadn’t brought his valet on this trip but he fully expected Nicole’s maid to return with them.
“That won’t be necessary. Jacqueline won’t be joining us. Her sister is due with child any day now and she prefers to remain here.”
“You aren’t bringing a maid?” Mark blinked.
Nicole sighed. “No. I will have to hire a temporary one when we arrive in England.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Mark busied himself opening the door to the coach, but his mind raced. Theywould be riding together alone the entire way to Calais. For some reason that made him vaguely uncertain. He’d planned to be a charming and jovial travel companion to Nicole and her maid. But he and Nicole alone would be… God. How would it be?
The footmen loaded Nicole’s large trunk in the back of the coach next to Mark’s much smaller one. Mark helped her up into the interior of the vehicle. She did not look at him. He climbed the steps and settled in the seat across from her. Nicole had placed her satchel on the floor beside her feet and her reticule on the seat next to her.
Before Mark could speak, an older female servant came hurrying out of the front door carrying a large basket. She bustled up to the coach and pushed the hamper inside onto the floor. She spoke in French. “Madame, I prepared food for you andmonsieur. For your journey.”
“Thank you,MadameDuval,” Nicole replied in French. “That is kind of you.”
“When do you think you will return,Madame?” the woman asked next, tears filling her eyes.
Nicole glanced uneasily at Mark. “I don’t yet know. I will write and tell you as soon as I have an idea.”
“We will miss you,Madame,” the cook said finally.
“I will miss you too,MadameDuval.” Nicole’s face filled with tenderness for the servant.
The cook gave Mark an accusatory glare before backing away from the conveyance. The footmen pushed up the steps and closed and secured the door. Mark rapped twice on the top of the coach to signal the driver they were ready to leave. The coach took off at a steady clip down the long drive toward the road.
