Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (22 page)

Giselle would look about her
sometimes, wondering at their
ignorance. Love wasn’t anything like she’d dreamed it would be.
It was an agony of emptiness that only the thought of seeing
Navarre made bearable. If it weren’t for the daily fittings of her
gown, Louisa’s chatter, Gerty’s gossip, and Isabelle’s attention to
prayer, Giselle would have been a sobbing wretch long before the day of the ball arrived.

The entire day, Giselle
stayed hidden in her chamber. Only
Louisa and Isabelle were allowed entrance. She’d kept her dress a
secret from most of the staff, especially anyone who might tell
Etienne. The night was going to be perfect. She was
desperate for it to be so. She’d envisioned it so often, it was like it
already had happened, only better.

It was still ahead of her.

The last thing Giselle wanted was to match Navarre again.
Etienne’s little tricks wouldn’t work on her this time.

Monsieur
Poinre was prompt for his appointment, and he spoke of her luck. He had at least six ladies waiting after Giselle, but
he wouldn’t pass up the chance to work with the beauteous,
petit
duchesse du
Berchald again. He’d spread tales of her beauty. She
was good for his business, he told her. He nearly balked when she
told him she wanted her hair dressed but not powdered, though.

She watched Isabelle hide a smile at the man’s reaction.

“You’ll be naked without the powder,” he complained. “How can you possibly wish to look so? I won’t be responsible for it.
You’d better not tell anyone that I was. I cannot believe this!
Mai
oui,
you are stubborn! The aristocracy! They have no sense. They
take arsenic powder for their complexions, and then when they have
the whitest, most pristine skin, they will not even apply powder to their hair to
show it off. No wonder the masses talk revolution. It is beyond
comprehension.”

“
I will not change my mind,
Monsieur.
I want it dressed but not powdered
.
It will look
wonderful. You’ll see.”

He sighed in resignation. “
I have the worst luck. I pass up
several appointments in order to dress the Duchess du Berchald, and I
cannot even tell anyone of it!”

He almost convinced Giselle to change her mind, but she
already knew the gown would look wonderful against the reddish
strands and white streak in her hair. She also knew she didn’t need artifice against her skin. The hairdresser was right. She had a clear,
unblemished complexion was just right for
showing it off. She also knew the neckline was made for showing
off the large emeralds
Monsieur
Savoy had shown her what seemed a
year ago. She’d already asked Louisa to have them available that
morning.

“You look enchanting,
Madame,”
Gerty said after the
hairdresser left. “I’m to see that you attend the
duc
in his study the
moment you’re finished.”

Gerty’s words made Giselle’s hands tremble
. She hid them
with the motion of gathering her skirts. She thought she wasn’t
frightened of Etienne anymore, and was demonstrating how false that was. She
didn’t want to see him, but it was unavoidable.

She looked at Louisa, who nodded unnecessarily. Giselle set
her shoulders. She didn’t need the reminder. She
knew where her duty lay.

“Very
well, Gerty.
I’m
ready. Thank you, Isabelle. Your
needlework is beyond description.”

It had taken the maid
hours to sew Giselle into her
dress. It had to fit without a wrinkle, and it did. The swirl of
material rose from the floor and was cinched in at the waist. There it rose to cling to her skin until the green lace framing her bodice, and
creating the back collar, completed the symmetry.

The mysterious woman hadn’t designed
with modesty in mind, however. Giselle’s corset wasn’t helping the situation. She had
to keep her head high to prevent her own breath from tickling the
exposed skin. Giselle gave herself one more glance in the mirror before shying away. Her appearance couldn’t be faulted, she knew that much. She’d known how the dress would look, and she’d simply
have to get used to exposing so much of herself. It was the fashion,
after all, and she wasn’t disappointed.

She hoped Navarre wasn’t,
either.

She grimaced as they approached the study, but with Gerty in
front of her, it wasn’t seen. Giselle composed her face as they
approached the manservant outside the door. He looked amused as
he opened the door and announced her.

Giselle’s jaw dropped as Etienne wheeled from behind his
desk, and she had to force it shut. She refused to believe the proof
before her eyes. It wasn’t possible. But somehow, his breeches were made of material from the same bolt of cloth. His dark-green jacket was only
a slightly darker hue than Giselle’s lace. They were perfectly
matched.

“
I heard you ordered the emeralds, Giselle.” He smiled.

She looked away.

“They are a perfect choice, my dear. And if you’ll bend down,
I’ll
clasp the
necklace for you.”

She looked back to him, her face feeling frozen and stiff.

“No? Very well. Do it yourself.” His proffered hand fell into
his lap.

“How did you…? And, why…?”

“Giselle, Giselle.”

He clucked his tongue
. Giselle’s back straightened.

“My
valet is Gerty’s brother. Simple.
Non?
As to why…?” He
set the jewelry case on the desk beside him. “We are on
show tonight, are we not?”

Giselle had to learn how to manage the games this household
played and before she grew any older. It felt like she’d been dealt a hand
in a game where no one had explained the rules of play.

“You do look a bit feminine, Etienne, but
it is an effective statement, I suppose. I congratulate you.”

She picked up
the necklace and turned to the wall mirror to clasp it.
The stone was heavy, and the facets wouldn’t catch much light
from where it fell, but that couldn’t be helped. The chain was made
for a larger woman, like everything else in the castle. Giselle blushed.
The chain wasn’t doing anything to keep one’s eyes on her face. Quite the opposite. The chain was pointing
to what extra cleavage the corset created. She opened her mouth to
request Gerty’s assistance in shortening the necklace, and then she
squared her shoulders.

It didn’t matter what
anyone save Navarre thought of her. She turned back for
the ear bobs.

“You promised you wouldn’t drink.”

She watched him gulp
from a bottle while she looked at the mirror. Then, he tossed an arm
across his mouth, wetting the green-colored material. It was a crass gesture from an
uncouth man, but she already knew that about her husband.

“
Oh…I promised a lot of things, Giselle. As have you, I might add. Our wedding promise, for instance. And the right to your body in my
bed. Do you wish to continue this train of conversation, my dear?”

She shook her head.

“You’re ready to greet our guests, then?”

Giselle knew it was her heart sinking, and her belly
gurgled warningly. She didn’t know how to contain the
disappointment, but there was nothing for it. Etienne was going to be beside her as they greeted their guests. Louisa had been wrong
. For once.

She watched Etienne negotiate his chair through the doorway,
although he needed help turning it once he gained the foyer.
He looked unsteady and a bit uncomfortable. He had more than nine
years in which to learn to maneuver his chair, yet he seemed to be
starting just that night.

She was never going to be able to pretend all evening.

The entire evening was flat, her future looked even
flatter, and Giselle knew it probably showed in her eyes. She couldn’t believe her own stupidity, although she should, by now. No
matter how she prepared herself, or what she planned, it wasn’t to be. Navarre was as far from her as ever.

She sighed dispiritedly
and looked out, over the crowded hall. She didn’t wonder why none of the attendees seemed to notice
her depression. They were all much too interested in Etienne.

Giselle listened as they mouthed vague platitudes such as
missing Etienne at court, and how could he be so greedy as to keep his charming personality from them, and how soon could they expect
him to take his place at the King’s side, all of it false. Flat. She grew more
disillusioned by the moment. She might as well be a doll for all the interest she felt.

And t
hen Giselle’s papa was announced, and everything went crystal clear and very real. Etienne was overly amorous
in his praise of his wife. Giselle blushed at his words. Etienne fooled the
comte,
though. They both watched as he left them, entering the ballroom with a stiff stride
.

Aunt Mimi had the room decorated with leaves tinted fall
colors. It resembled a harvest night. Even the
chandeliers had wheels of orange paper hanging from them, giving
the light the same tint on the revelers below. Giselle watched her papa walk to the banquet table, reminding her of her earlier obstinacy. She wished she’d eaten the light luncheon Louisa had suggested
hours earlier.

And she wondered how something so mundane could keep her
interest.

“We
are doing splendidly, aren’t we, Giselle?”

She looked
over at Etienne. His head reached
her shoulder. She smiled slightly.
Yes,
she thought,
we are fooling
everyone.

Etienne met her eyes and winked
. Giselle turned away before he saw her real emotion.

“
The
Comte
la Maison, and his daughter,
Monsieur
and
Mademoiselle
Frerre.”

The moment the name was announced, Giselle whitened
.
Mademoiselle
Frerre? The creator of her dress?

“Charmaine
? It’s a pleasure to see you again. And
Monsieur
le
Comte.
Have you come to try and renew the betrothal?”

Betrothal?
Giselle repeated it to herself. They sounded like
they were talking through a dense fog, although they were right
beside her.

“It would be about time, I think
. I swear Navarre talks of
nothing else.”

Mademoiselle
Frerre was Navarre’s betrothed? No. It couldn’t be. Such a coincidence wasn’t possible. Because if it were…that meant she was
also Jean-Claude’s mistress! The white and black tiles underfoot blurred as she realized how close
to swooning she was. She seemed powerless to stop it.

Etienne wasn’t aware of his wife’s reaction, for he chattered on as if he’d said nothing of moment
. Giselle heard them now through a
ringing blur of sound that seemed to originate in her own ears.

“Well
? Shall I have the solicitor draw up the betrothal papers
again? Say the word, Charmaine, and he’s yours.”

Take deep breaths, Giselle
. Deeper.
She leaned against the
back of Etienne’s chair and fought off the darkness at the edges of
her vision. And Esmee never said a word? Giselle thought Esmee had some fondness for her, but she’d left her in ignorance.
Why?

“Your generosity is misplaced, Etienne…and of little moment.”

“How so?”

“Because I have little need of Navarre, of course
. Where is the
boy, anyway?”

“He’ll
be by shortly.
I’m
certain of it. He was looking
forward to attending my function, wasn’t he, darling?”

Giselle took one more deep breath
. The
floor was no longer roiling beneath her feet, although the hand holding
to Etienne’s chair was white about the knuckles. It took a bit of will, but she replaced the look of shock that was
probably about her face with an innocent one. If acting was a
Berchald trait, she’d do her best to learn it. Right now.

“He doesn’t speak…of
such things…to me, Etienne,” she remarked finally.

“You should speak more of his future and less of yourselves,
then, I would say.” Although he was smiling, Etienne’s eyes were
hard. Giselle couldn’t hold the gaze.

“You always did have too much to say, and yet say too little,
Etienne.”

Charmaine narrowed
what were gorgeous, moss-green eyes as she
spoke. Giselle’s eyebrows rose. It was
obvious she wasn’t used to having attention diverted.

“You wound me to the heart, Charmaine. I swear it.”

“Nonsense, Etienne. You haven’t got one
.”

“Are you always this pleasant, Charmaine
? I begin to see
Navarre has made a lucky escape, I think.”

“Navarre cannot hold my interest, Etienne
. You, of all men,
should know that. He is but an infant…but you are not, are you?”

Her voice purred
. Giselle heard her clearly, even though she
bent near Etienne’s ear.

“You flatter me easily, but you always were a vixen, weren’t
you?” he replied.

She laughed. There was a hard edge to it, and Giselle winced
before assuming an innocent look again.

“And, this must be the
duchesse
I’ve heard so much about
, especially from my dressmaker in Paris. I believe you met up with him?”

Mademoiselle
Frerre stood, and turned her attention to Giselle.

“
I may have had the pleasure,” Giselle replied tonelessly.

“That must make this meeting with me even more pleasurable
for you,
non?”

Giselle tipped her head to one side. “But, of course,
Mademoiselle.”

“Oh, please!”
Charmaine laughed again and touched Giselle’s
arm with her fan. Giselle flinched, and knew she hadn’t covered it in time as the woman pursed her overly-full lips. “You must call me
Charmaine. I insist. We’re going to be such friends. I can tell.”

She didn’t wait for an answer
. She simply turned and walked off, heading for
the ballroom. Giselle slowly released the breath she’d been
holding. Etienne snorted beside her.

“Friends
? Don’t trust her that far, Giselle. The woman is a snake in disguise. She is a stunning one, though.”

Etienne’
s warning me?
She concentrated on
his strange words instead of
Mademoiselle
Charmaine’s beauty. The woman was more than beautiful. She was breath-taking. Giselle couldn’t imagine what she must have looked like when she tried on Giselle’s gown. With Charmaine’s red hair, white skin, and
green eyes, she would have captivated all eyes in the room. In her
black velvet bodice and green silk skirt, she still created quite a stir.

“
Thank
le Bon Dieu
they waited until last,” Etienne said. “I’m parched. How about you, Giselle? Would you join me in a toast to our success?”

He tried to move his chair, but it wouldn’t budge
against the restraining block on the floor. Giselle waited for
a manservant to remove it.

“She doesn’t powder her hair.”
That was stupid, but the first thing that
came to mind.

Etienne
chuckled. “Are you fishing for compliments, Giselle? You’ll have to look somewhere else. Charmaine has long been
acknowledged as a court beauty. She’d as soon powder her hair as she would toss over Jean-Claude.”

“Jean
-Claude? Your younger brother, Jean-Claude?” Giselle asked, feigning
ignorance.

“
I need a drink. If you won’t see that I get one,
I’ll
find one
myself.”

“But
—”

“I’ll leave you to your musings, Giselle
. Ask someone else for
our sordid history, or take Navarre to task for not apprising you of it earlier. That should give him something better to do than stand at the
stairs staring at Charmaine. The boy should be over her by now.”
He turned to his servant.
“
A
brandy for the
duc! A
nd be quick about
it. Garcon!
A
drink.”

Etienne moved away, loudly calling
for his drink. Giselle didn’t hear or see
. The moment he gave her Navarre’s location, she sought him
out. Although it was true that he watched the festivities from the
stairs leading to the minstrel’s gallery, he wasn’t watching
Charmaine.

He was gazing directly at Giselle.

He’d lost weight. She could tell. His plum-colored
jacket fell from his shoulders and he had dark hollows in his cheeks. Her heart lurched. Her pulse sang.
She’d never seen anything that affected her more. Her feet moved
toward him without thought or even looking where she placed them.
She couldn’t tear her gaze away.

“Navarre!”

His name came out in a whoosh, as if someone had struck her
in the stomach. He walked toward her so slowly that she almost went
up the stairs to greet him. His eyes never left hers
. Giselle knew her reaction
showed in her face, and that there was nothing she could do about it.

He reached the main floor, and she filled her eyes with the
sight of him, and her breast with the smell.

“You’re doing well,
Madame?”

He sounded bored as he
brought her hand to his lips. Giselle waited, but he didn’t kiss it. He
simply held it a moment in his chin and then let it drop. She couldn’t assimilate how it felt. She had nothing to base it on. Agony?

“Come,” he continued. “You’re neglecting your guests.”

He held out his arm for her, and it wavered before her eyes. Giselle
blinked as rapidly as she could, but the tears welled and continued coming until she knew there would be no stopping them.
She swallowed, desperately trying to control herself, but it was
useless. She looked up at him through a film of moisture.

“You’ll disarrange your powder, Giselle,” he
told her.

“I
—”

S
he shouldn’t need the reproof, but he was right.
This was no time for such a display of emotion. There were too
many others watching them. She tipped her head up, as if viewing the
orange wheels above them, and blinked viciously, sending her tears to seep into her
hairline at her ears. Of all the scenarios she’d envisioned, this was
undoubtedly the worst.

“The dowager house has many attributes, Giselle, but it is very
lonely. Do you know of what I speak?”

He placed her hand on his, and she felt
him tremble
. It brought her head down and her eyes to his.
Her breath caught, but that couldn’t be helped.

“
It’s lonely here, too,” she told him.

He finally smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You must
start the dancing, Giselle. It’s tradition that the
duc
and
duchesse
do
so. Everyone is waiting for you.” He looked over her head at those
behind them.

“Etienne…doesn’t dance,” she whispered.

“Then, I must fulfill my obligation to the house of Berchald
and stand in for him, mustn’t I? Come. We will strike up the
musicians.”

The dance Aunt Mimi
had picked to start off the fete kept Giselle
circling about. She only met her partner every eighth note — she
counted – but it was everything. And nothing.
Navarre’s eyes held her, and it seemed like every time she
moved away from him, the color in them intensified. She was probably lucky with the dance choice. She
wouldn’t be able to attack him like before. She felt the wicked desire creeping up on her again. The passion. The craving. And there was nothing she could do about any of it.