Darkest Longings (2 page)

that man’s name spoken. If you knew what he has done… Mon Dieu.’ And she had covered her face with her hands.

Constance had flown to her side to comfort her, but the

duchess had continued to quake. ‘Why poor Solange should

be cursed with such a son is beyond me,’ she had sobbed.

‘I’m sure it’s why she never comes to Paris now. How could

she hold her head up after after what happened … Oh,

Constance! Not a day passes but I think of dear Hortense.

Poor, poor, Hortense, how we all still miss her.’ And with

that, she had swept from the room.

The duchess’s performance had thoroughly amused

Claudine, but she had tactfully hidden her smiles, as she

had her curiosity regarding ‘poor, poor, Hortense’ until just

the night before, when she had met her friend Henriette at

the Hungarian Embassy ball. At first it had proved impossible

to get Henriette to speak of anything other than her

recent engagement to Claude, the dashing young vicomte

she’d arrived with. Claudine had listened with mounting

impatience, waiting her chance, until Henriette babbled

excitedly ‘And now we’ve to find you a husband, Claudine.

Oh, you must marry a Frenchman, please, please. Don’t

throw yourself away on one of those stuffy old English, I

couldn’t bear it. I want you to live here, in Paris, so I can see

you all the time.’

Claudine’s lovely slanting eyes sparkled with humour. ‘I

don’t think that should present too much of a problem, cherie. Now, tell me, what has Francois de Lorvoire been up to?’

‘Francois de Lorvoire?’ Henriette repeated, clearly surprised

by such an abrupt change of subject.

‘Henriette, you must have heard. Something to do with

‘Oh!’ Henriette gasped, covering her mouth with her

hand. ‘You mean you’ve heard about Aimee de Garenaux?’

Claudine hadn’t, but was not about to interrupt. ‘Well, I

can’t say I’m surprised,’ Henriette rushed on. ‘I should

think the whole world knows by now. Such a silly creature

she is. Really, Claudine, this time I think one can hardly say

it was Francois’ fault. Except that he might have behaved

with a little more chivalry. But then everyone knows that

Francois …”

‘Henriette!’ Claudine cried. ‘What happened?’

Henriette’s pretty green eyes widened with surprise at the

impatience in Claudine’s voice. ‘Why this sudden interest in

Francois de Lorvoire?’ she asked, eyeing her friend

suspiciously. ‘I wasn’t aware you even knew him.’

‘I’ll tell you later. Now, what happened with Aimee?’

Henriette shrugged, and fluffing out the taffeta folds of

her ball gown, she sank into the sumptuous leather sofa

behind her. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘the stupid girl took it into her

head not only to fall in love with him, but to follow him to Lyon. You know, Claudine, why everyone makes such a fuss about him is quite beyond me, it gives me the shivers just to

look at him. Have you ever seen him? It’s like coming face to

face with the devil … Anyway, as I said, Aimee followed

him to Lyon. Everyone is trying to say now that Francois

abducted her, but it’s not true. I’m not saying he’s not

capable of such an outrage, but in this instance Aimee

confessed to me before she went that she intended to make

him marry her. I warned her what he was like, but she

wouldn’t listen. Maybe I should have told her mother, but

she’d sworn me to secrecy, and how was I to know it would

end the way it did?’

‘How did it end?’ Claudine asked, enjoying the story

immensely.

‘She went to his hotel late at night, and told the people on

the desk that she was his wife, so they let her into his room.

When he came back, she was there, waiting for him. She

then informed him that if he didn’t agree to marry her she

would tell the whole world he had forced himself upon her raped

her! At least, that’s what she told me she was going to

do. I can only assume she went ahead with her plan, but

what Francois said - or did - in response I have no idea,

Aimee refuses to talk about it now. All I know is that he left

her there, alone, in the middle of the night, and returned to

Paris. Whether he actually ravished her before he left, none

of us knows, but I imagine he did. Anyway, he went straight

to her home, got her father out of bed to inform him of his

daughter’s whereabouts, and told him that if the girl was no

longer a virgin he had no doubt the blame would be laid at

his door, but that Monsieur de Garenaux was to understand

he had no intention of marrying her. And now poor Aimee,

stupid Aimee, has been shipped off to Morocco to stay with

her grandparents. You may well laugh, Claudine,’

Henriette said, her own lips beginning to twitch, ‘but what if

poor Aimee is pregnant?’

‘Somehow I rather doubt it,’ Claudine answered. ‘Don’t

you?’

‘If it were anyone but him, I would. But, oh Id, she was so

stupid. If only she had listened to me. The man is not only a

philanderer but a confirmed bachelor, everyone knows so.

As he told my papa once, there is not a woman alive who

I could change his mind on that point. Though if you ask me,

; he flatters himself to think that anyone would want to. The only reason why women throw themselves at him the way they do - and usually they’re given a hefty push by their mothers - is because he is so rich and will inherit the de

Lorvoire title when his father dies. It certainly has nothing

to do with looks or charm. But now you are to tell me, why

are you asking about him?’

A light gleamed in Claudine’s eyes, and in a rustle of

skirts she sat down beside Henriette. ‘Because,’ she said,

taking Henriette’s fragile white hands between her own,

‘I’m going to marry him.’

She watched Henriette’s angelic face as her friend

blinked several times before her mouth actually fell open.

Until that moment Claudine had not intended to tell

Henriette, or indeed anyone, about her arranged marriage,

but as she listened to Henriette an idea had crystallized in

her mind - though whether it was a good one or not, it was

now too late to decide, for the words were already spoken.

There would be repercussions, naturally. Her father might

be angry that she had revealed her secret, Tante Celine

most certainly would be; and how Francois and his family

might view the indiscretion she had no idea. But one thing

she was sure of: telling Henriette about the proposed

marriage was tantamount to telling all of Paris, and once

Parisian society expected the match, no one in her family

would now try to dissuade her from it.

At last Henriette recovered the power of speech.

‘Claudine, you are teasing me,’ she breathed. ‘You aren’t

serious, I know you’re not. But what a strange joke.’

‘It isn’t a joke, Henriette. I shall meet him for the first

time on Sunday, and soon after that we shall be married.’

Henriette’s face puckered with confusion as she searched

her friend’s beautiful blue eyes. ‘I don’t want to believe you,

Claudine,’ she said finally. ‘Common sense tells me this

can’t be true, but I have a horrible feeling that for once you

aren’t teasing.’

Claudine was trying not to laugh. ‘No, Henriette,’ she

said softly, ‘I’m not teasing. I am going to marry Francois de

Lorvoire.’

Henriette started to shake her head. ‘No, Claudine,’ she

said, ‘no. I can’t let you do this. I should have stopped Aimee

and I feel dreadful that I didn’t, but she’s hardly my

responsibility. With you it’s different. With you I am going

to put my foot down. You are not to go near that man, do you

hear? You are to promise me that you will never have

anything to do with him.’

‘I’m afraid it’s too late,’ Claudine grinned.

‘Too late! But no, if you’ve not met him yet it can’t be too

late. And if you insist on going to the rendezvous, Claudine,

I shall inform your father. But how has this come about? If

you don’t know him, how can you have an assignation with

him on Sunday? Oh Claudine, no,’ she cried, tightening her

grip on her friend’s hands, ‘you can’t do this. You don’t

know him, he’s a monster. He’s wicked, he’s evil. He won’t

marry you, he’ll use you, just like all the …’

‘He will marry me, Henriette.’

‘No! No! Claudine, you’re not listening to me. If it were

anyone else I know you would succeed. You’re so beautiful,

what man wouldn’t want to marry you? But you’ll never

succeed with Francois de Lorvoire. He’ll never marry you,

Claudine, never?

Henriette was near to tears by now, and her hands were

gripping Claudine’s so fiercely that Claudine almost winced

with the pain. But as she began to explain the arrangement

her father had made with the Comte de Rassey de Lorvoire

and his son, the hands around hers slowly relaxed their

hold.

‘But he swore he would never marry,’ Henriette

breathed, hardly able to take it all in. ‘What has happened to

change his mind?’

Claudine shrugged, unable to enlighten her friend except

to say that she believed the Comte, who had saved her father’s life during the Battle of Verdun, probably wanted to ensure that the name of de Rassey de Lorvoire would continue. Henriette immediately pointed out that

Francois had a younger brother, Lucien - and this was

something that rather confused Claudine too, since the de

Lorvoire line could obviously be continued by Lucien, and

Lucien’s children. But as she had no explanation to offer on

that score, Claudine simply hugged her friend and said,

‘What does it matter why he has changed his mind? He has,

and so we will be married. As I said, it is all arranged.’

Henriette suddenly drew her hands away, and the

expression that came over her face saddened Claudine. ‘I

don’t know you any more, Claudine,’ she said. ‘I don’t

understand you. You have the pick of men in London and

Paris, New York too, yet you are allowing yourself to be

given away in marriage to a man who … Oh no, I can’t bear

to think of it. Do you need me to tell you that marriage is not

an adventure? It isn’t one of your games, Claudine. You and

the Lorvoires are Catholics: once you are married to

Francois not all the money in the world, not even your

father, will be able to rescue you.’

‘You are assuming that I will want to be “rescued”,’

Claudine replied with a smile.

‘I’m not assuming, I know. For heaven’s sake, Claudine, I

told you, the man is … You must have heard about

Hortense de Bourchain. How can you even contemplate

this marriage, knowing what he did to her?’

‘Ah, yes, Hortense,’ Claudine said - but at that moment,

to her unutterable frustration, Claude de la Chevasse

arrived to whisk his fiancee into the next waltz.

And now, here she was on a train taking her through the

Loire Valley to a new life that was beginning to conjure up

such fantastic images in her mind, she was beginning to

question her own sanity. Even so, she knew that nothing,

simply nothing, was going to stop her from meeting

Francois de Lorvoire now. And knowing Henriette as she

did, the news of her arranged marriage would be all over

Paris by now, so that not even Tante Celine would try to talk

her out of it - the scandal if the marriage didn’t go ahead

would be too much for her to bear. And as for the sudden

bouts of nervousness she was experiencing? Well, that was

because Francois was, indisputably, an experienced lover,

whereas she … But she would talk to Tante Celine about

that, at the earliest possible opportunity.

Elise Pascale’s blouse was hanging from her shoulders, the

top of her silk camisole was hooked beneath her breasts.

She looked down at the big dark hands as they caressed her

abundant milky white flesh, then sucked in her breath as his

fingers closed around her painfully aroused nipples. Her

head fell back against the wall and his lips crushed hers,

parting them to make way for his tongue.

They were standing on the landing outside her apartment;

the key was in her right hand, and with her left she

was stroking him through his trousers. For a moment he

stood back to look at her, then, as a door slammed

somewhere downstairs, he slowly lowered his mouth to her

breasts, holding her about the waist as he sucked. Her hand

tightened around him, and as he bit harder she started to

moan. Then his hands were lifting her skirt, pushing it up to

her waist, and she heard him chuckle quietly as he saw she

was wearing no knickers. There was both tenderness and

savagery in his touch, and an almost sadistic pleasure in the

way he was teasing her. She had never in her life

experienced anything to match the eroticism of Francois de

Lorvoire’s lovemaking.

As he stood straight, she looked up into his face and saw

that he was laughing. He could sense her mounting

frustration, he knew only too well how he affected her, but

she simply let him look at her, knowing that he would take