Ginny nodded eagerly. “Right you are, mademoiselle. The man’s a marvel with his tongue. When I’m with Jervis, sure he could convince me day was night even with the sun shining clear as anything in the sky. When he explained why I should step out last evening, it all seemed to make perfect sense.” She pleated her hands in her skirt. “It was only later that I began to think I might have done something wrong.” Ginny bowed her head, her hands fisted. “I’d understand, mademoiselle, if you’d told her ladyship to turn me out.”
Alix stared at the maid aghast. “Oh Ginny, I’d never do that. No young woman should be left to fend for herself on the streets. There’s no harm done, really there isn’t.”
Ginny looked at Alix, her blue eyes intent. “Jervis said you was a good one and you are mademoiselle. He said we were only doing what the good Lord intended. And he’s a godly-man Jervis is, goes to church with me every Sunday.”
Alix had some difficulty seeing Jervis as one of the Lord’s right-hand men, much less as a regular churchgoer, but she could sympathize with Ginny’s confusion.
“I’m sure that whatever forces were moving Jervis, hemeant well,” she said carefully, thinking she’d better have a talk with those forces before they led anyone else astray.
“Oh right you are, mademoiselle,” Ginny agreed hastily, “right you are. Can I draw you a bath while you’re taking your breakfast?”
Alix smiled. “That would be lovely.”
Ginny rushed off to comply,grateful the discussion was over and that Alix wasn’t angry with her. Perhaps Jervis had been telling the truth when he’d said mademoiselle was the earl’s wife and that they’d had a misunderstanding. Certainly her mistress looked happier today than she’d ever seen her and word downstairs was that a servant in his lordship’s livery had arrived early this morning with a letter for the Comtesse de La Brou. Still, it was mighty queer, a man and wife pretending they weren’t married. Ginny shook her head as she started down the stairs for her buckets. For people who were supposed to be her betters, the quality sure could make simple things complicated.
Alix was sunk deep in her bath when her mother swirled in, a vision in a yellow day dress scattered with nosegays of violet. Madeleine might wear black in public for dramatic affect, but in private she adored color.
“Alexandre,ma petite, I knew you would take after the de Rabecs and not those dull de La Brous, I knew it.”
Alix cast a puzzled glance at her mother.
“Don’t look coyly at me, young lady,” Madeleine continued. “In a single evening, you have made one of the greatest conquests of the season. The Earl of Moreham has sent word that he would like to speak to me this afternoon to seek my permission to pay his addresses to you.” She clasped her hands together, her face glowing. “He is not old, he is not ugly, and her ladyship tells me he’s quite well off. Indeed, the duchess was quite surprised when I told herthe news. She says his lordship has been quite elusive on the marriage mart, though there had been some speculation he might marry the Duke of Dinsmore’s daughter Lady Anne.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I think we may have met her, a long-faced girl who speaks deplorable French.”
“But back to the earl,” she said, regarding Alix intently. “I will not arrange a marriage for you without your consent as your father did with that awful Marquis de Beincourt.” She shuddered delicately. “With those terrible bony roaming fingers.”
Alix glanced quickly at her mother, surprised that Madeleine had known about the marquis’s unpleasant tendency to grope her bosom when they were left unattended and wondered what else her sharp dark eyes had observed. Schooling her face to appear no more than mildly interested she nodded. “It is all right, Mother, you may tell him I will consider his suit.”
Madeleine clapped her hands together. “Eh bien,I will tell him.” She turned back for a moment before she left the room “I have a good feeling about this one,” she said.
Alix’s fingers touched the heavy gold ring hidden beneath the bubbles of her bath, and thought, So do I, mother. So do I.
Twenty
Rafe entered the Melbourne residence with a jaunty step, and left two hours later, feeling as though he’d run one of those gauntlets Jervis was so fond of describing. Only there hadn’t been two lines of Iroquois women tearing at his flesh, only one delicate, darkly-clad Frenchwoman who’d battered him with questions.
She’d been working at some piece of embroidery when he arrived, some doleful sampler commemorating her late husband. Pushing her needle full of black satin thread into the frame, she’d risen gracefully and extended a small white hand. Rafe had kissed it, remarking that it was a pleasure to see her again, and thanking her for receiving him so promptly. They’d continued to exchange pleasantries as she’d offered him a seat by the fire, and poured him some tea, circling conversationally until they finally settled on the purpose of his visit.
He had been prepared for her to ask about his lineage, his family, and his potential heirs, and he’d expected her toinquire into his land holdings and financial status. However, after an hour and a half of discussions into how he planned to provide for Alix’s upkeep and possible widowhood, he began to wonder if he might have been better served by sending a solicitor in his place.
Offering him a final slice of lemon cake she had set down her teacup, turned her gaze full upon him, and said, “My Lord Moreham, my daughter has but recently been returned to my care. I am her sole remaining relative and I take my responsibility to ensure her happiness very seriously, so I hope you will understand if some of my questions seem a trifle probing.
“Your request to court my daughter seems...” She frowned. “Ah... what would be the right English word... precipitous? Is this love at first sight, my lord?”
“Perhaps not at first sight,” Rafe answered, resisting the urge to smile as he recalled that at first sight Alix looked like she’d spent a week in a chicken coop. “But there is something about your daughter, Madame la Comtesse... that stirs me... that makes me feel that if I let her slip away I will regret it for the rest of my life.”
Madeleine nodded. “It is a good start. Would you like some more tea, my lord?” When he shook his head, she poured herself a cup. “And what about this Lady Anne Dinsmore? I have heard that you and she were considered practically affianced. You do not seem like the kind of man who plays fast and loose with a woman’s affections, and yet...”
“I have known Lady Anne since she was a child and I will admit I had begun to consider asking her to become my wife. But life is full of surprises, is it not Madame de La Brou?”
She nodded. “Indeed, my lord, if life were always as we planned it, I suspect neither of us would be having this conversation today. It is just such surprises I am seeking toguard my daughter against in her marriage.” Madeleine carefully dropped a lump of sugar in her tea. “Do you plan to keep mistresses?”
It was with difficulty that he kept his jaw from dropping. “I suspect, madame, that any man who invites de La Brou women into his life will soon find there is no place for other women.”
“Just so, my lord.” She smiled and stirred her tea gently. “I lived for a long time at Versailles, and while the gossip surrounding our foolish queen was never true, there were plenty of men who kept women or had other, shall we say, unusual pursuits.”
“I can assure you, Madame de La Brou, my only unusual pursuit is your daughter.”
Madeleine laughed. “Touché, my lord. It is only that when a man has lived without a wife for as long as you have, one begins to wonder...”
