The teasing banter vanished and Cole’s voice softened. “Perhaps you should take a step back before you set out to woo your wife. Some time in the country to think things through. Check on Elizabeth, make sure she hasn’t talked your stepmother into letting her wear something scandalous for her coming out.”
“Louisa’s not that out of touch with fashion, but you do have a point.” Rafe said, smiling for the first time that evening. It might well give him some time to sort out his feelings for Alix. Indeed, given time, the burning desire to have her close to him would surely fade. The swirl of emotions she stirred in him would settle, and he would discover she’d been nothing more than a passing disturbance in his well-ordered life.
“Davenport,” he said, “as astounding as it seems, you just may have hit upon a sensible plan. And to demonstrate my appreciation, why don’t you bring Phoebe and the boys to Moreham Hall for an extended visit?”
The hackney driverlaughed as he held the carriage door open for Alix to enter. “Sure I know where Lady Melbourne lives, everybody does. She and the duke had that great big place on Grosvenor Street, then they up and swapped it for the Duke of York’s house in Whitehall. They say Lady Melbourne did it because she prefers the chimes of Westminster to those of Saint James.” He shook his head as he closed the coach door muttering. “Quality, they’re something different, that’s for sure.”
About the time Rafe was striding confidently back to Madame Guenard’s, Alix was standing at the elegant frontportico of the Melbourne’s home staring in to the forbidding face of the Duchess’s butler.
“Have you an appointment with her ladyship?” he asked in a tone that suggested he sincerely doubted that she did.
Lifting her chin imperiously she said, “Please inform her ladyship that Mademoiselle Alexandre Charlotte de Rabec de La Brou wishes to speak with her. She and my mother, Madame la Comtesse de La Brou, are good friends.”
Casting a dubious look at her rumpled traveling dress, the butler nodded and closed the door.
Willing herself not to fidget, Alix held herself erect; she hadn’t come this far to be put off by an arrogant house servant. Her hand stole to the thin gold chain at her throat. She’d found herself touching it at the oddest times, as if it were a talisman that might somehow protect her. The heavy gold ring shifted between her breasts and she pulled it out and examined it. A light flickered in the ruby’s depths like some secret red world and Alix found herself reminded of the alcove where she and Rafe had made love. She dropped the ring abruptly, but not before catching sight of a motto in Latin engraved on the inside of the band:WHAT I CLAIM IS MINE.
Her lips tightened. Rafe Harcrest might have laid claim to her body, but he had laid no such claim to her soul. She was her own woman. She had escaped the terrors of France, preserved the precious de La Brou titles and someday she would return to reestablish the family name. If, she thought with wry amusement at the vehemence of her emotions, the butler would just open the damn door.
As if responding to her will, the heavy door swung open and the butler blandly informed her, “Her ladyship will see you now, if you will follow me.”
Alix stepped into the domed entrance hall trying not tothink of the contrast her stained traveling gown made against the rich interior of the duchess’s home. She willed herself to imagine that she was back at Versailles, sweeping down the long corridors in one of her lace and jewel-encrusted gowns.
The butler opened a heavy paneled door and announced, “Mademoiselle Alexandre Charlotte de Rabec de La Brou.”
Uncertain what to expect, Alix stepped into the room, her skirts rustling softly against the thick blue and gold Brussels carpet. The walls and windows were draped in matching blue silk and portraits of horses and landscapes hung in heavy gold frames. Two women were seated at a tea table in the center of the room; one of them was Alix’s mother.
Before Alix could say anything, Madeleine rose, moved swiftly toward her, and enfolded her in a cloud of lace and perfume.
“Mon Dieu, Alix,” she whispered in a voice choked with tears, “it is you,ma petite, it really is you.” Alix dropped her head on her mother’s shoulder and allowed herself to be cradled like a child.
Several hourslater Alix sat tucked up in a massive four-poster bed, watching the sun set though the long windows of one of the Lady Melbourne’s many guest bedrooms. She sipped her cocoa, absentmindedly admiring the delicate floral design on the Sèvres cup. Her skin and hair were at last clean and smelled faintly of expensive lemon soap. Madeleine had lent her a silk dressing gown. Closing her eyes and feeling the soft fabric whisper against her skin, Alix could almost imagine that the hardships she had endured were nothing more than a terrible nightmare. Except for Rafe, a small voice whispered. Surely what they’d shared at the inn near Calais had been more like a dream.
Alix reopened her eyes, unwilling to let her mind draw her back into the pain and confusion that enveloped her when she thought of Rafe. She saw Madeleine seated in a small armchair at the foot of the bed, her small slender hands anxiously smoothing the rose-colored fabric of her skirt. She looked as beautiful as Alix remembered, though there were a few strands of silver in her dark hair that hadn’t been there before, and her skin seemed drawn a bit more tightly against the delicate bones of her face.
Madeleine broke the silence between them. “Your father...” she began, her voice rising in a question.
“...is dead,” Alix responded quietly.
Madeleine nodded. “I won’t pretend that we were close, but I am sorry for your loss. How did it happen?”
Alix explained about the peasants storming Valcour.
Madeleine listened as Alix told her story in fits and starts. A sheen of tears glistened in her dark eyes; she could see how difficult it was for her daughter to tell the tale. When Alix finally stopped speaking, she said in a whisper, “I tried to warn Paul about the troubles in Paris, but he never answered any of my letters.”
“He never mentioned any letters,” Alix said, surprised. “And I saw none among his papers.” She took a deep breath. “Not that it would have made any difference. Father was convinced the new government wouldn’t last and that the king would be restored to the throne.”
Madeleine shook her head wonderingly. “And you escaped with the Chaumiers’s help. But how did you know where to find me and how did you come to England?”
Alix pleated the linen sheets, wondering what to say, where to begin. It had been painful enough telling her mother about her father’s death. She couldn’t begin to think of how to tell her about Rafe and what had passedbetween them. A log shifted in the fireplace and sparks crackled in the silence.
Madeleine rose and came to stand by her bed. Smoothing back Alix’s hair, she said softly, “I can’t imagine what sort of ordeals you’ve been through. But I can respect your wish not to discuss them further. The important thing is not how you got here, but that you are here and are safe. Lady Melbourne has graciously offered to let us stay for the season. Perhaps we can both put the past behind us and learn to make England our home.”
Alix nodded wordlessly.
Madeleine started to leave, then stopped, one hand on the door. “Alix, I can’t say that I’m sorry I left your father, but I want you to know that I always regretted having left you behind. When you came to Versailles, I couldn’t allow myself to become close to you, knowing that your stay at court would be brief.” She paused and drew in a tentative breath. “I know it’s too late to be a mother to you, but perhaps...” Her voice trailed. “Perhaps we could become friends?”
Alix studied her mother, thinking that of all the times she had imagined finding her mother, she had never expected such an offer.
