Destiny's Kiss (14 page)

“Cornélie de Talebot, this is my wife Lirienne.”

“De Talebot?” Lirienne asked. “Are you Baron de Talebot's wife?”

Her frown deepened. “You know my husband?”

Philippe said with a smile, “Vachel was our host at the country estate after our wedding.”

“An, the country estate. Once we thought a primitive life was entertaining. Now it is the whole of our life.” She put a hand to her forehead. “I yearn for home and the way things were.”

“As we all do.” Smiling at Lirienne, he added, “Isn't that so,
ma petite
?”

She saw the challenge in his eyes. What would he say if she replied with the truth? She had no longing for France and the society that had deemed her to have as little value as her master's beasts. Meeting his gaze evenly, she said, “I'm enjoying our visit here. The Americans are so eager to savor their independence.”

“Such republican sentiments!” gasped Madame de Talebot, fanning herself with a laced handkerchief.

“I speak only of what I've seen, Madame de Talebot,” she said hastily.

As Philippe's arm slipped around her shoulders, he said, “You'll find my new wife offers many surprises, Cornélie.”

“Everyone shall be surprised that a young rogue like you is wed. Yet how could you resist such a lovely flower?” joked a masculine voice from behind them.

Lirienne looked over her shoulder. She almost did not recognize Vachel de Talebot because the baron had rolls of false hair pinned over his ears. From a passing tray, he snagged a glass of wine and took a hearty gulp while he stared at her. A twinkle came into his eyes.

Philippe's chuckle drew his friend's attention back to him. “Vachel, you old goat, you look well. Philadelphia must be agreeing with you.”

“Temporarily.” He grimaced. “Perhaps if these Americans could devise a decent wine, I might find this city more palatable. I'm quite surprised to see you here. How did you get out of Paris in your skin?”

“I was able to escape because a good man sacrificed himself to save my wife and me.”

Lirienne put her hand on his arm. When he stroked her fingers, she was glad he understood now that she shared his grief.

“Philadelphia seems to be doing well by you also,” Monsieur de Talebot said. “I recall your wife being thinner.”

“That is because of the good news I wish to share with everyone tonight,” Philippe replied, smiling again as he could not hide his delight. “Lirienne is giving me a child.”

As Madame de Talebot congratulated her enthusiastically, Monsieur de Talebot's eyes narrowed, and he said, “An heir to your title must be quite gratifying.”

“For now, the child is heir to my share of several hundred acres along the Susquehanna.”

“I'm glad you are coming with us.”

“You're going north?” asked Lirienne before she could halt herself.

“Of course.” He looked down his nose at her. “After all the work I have done to convince Girard, Morris, and Nicholson to see that we can handle the investment they have made in our plans, I want to be sure nothing goes amiss with the future I intend to have there.”

Philippe smiled at Lirienne. “He speaks of some of the gentlemen, including John Nicholson, Pennsylvania's comptroller general, who have been generous enough to put up a portion of the money toward our future.”

Why would strangers help them build a town in the wilderness? She had other questions, but guessed this was not the time to ask them. Instead, she smiled and said, “I'm glad to know some of our neighbors.”

“But you must be acquainted with many of us,” Madame de Talebot said. “Most of us are from France, although a few have come from Santo Domingo to escape the slave uprisings there.” She appraised Lirienne again. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

“Lirienne has led a very secluded life,” Philippe replied with a chuckle. “Until now.”

“Philippe, why don't you send your lovely wife with Cornélie to meet the rest of the guests?” Monsieur de Talebot suggested. “That will give us time to speak of the challenge ahead of us.”

Lirienne struggled to keep desperation from her voice. “I'd like to hear more about where we're going.”

“Such devotion is exemplary,” Monsieur de Talebot said with a terse laugh, “but run along, and let Cornélie share some feminine gossip with you.”

She had no choice. To stay here like a frightened child would draw too much attention. “Thank you. That sounds lovely.”

Lirienne walked in Madame de Talebot's shadow. She did not look back, but knew Philippe was watching her. Not only Philippe, but his friend who still stared at her. As she listened to Cornélie de Talebot prattle about the various guests crowding the room, she tried to pay attention. Some of the gossip might be important later.

Madame de Talebot introduced her to three women standing near a tall window. All of them attempted to ingratiate themselves with her, and she realized that the guests were impressed with her title. Maybe she was fretting needlessly, for, noticing that she did not carry a fan, the women set theirs on nearby tables, wanting to copy the style set by the
vicomtesse
.

Slowly she began to relax. The skills she had learned in the kitchen worked in the fancy parlor. She needed only to ask a few pertinent questions and listen. The guests were delighted that a
vicomtesse
was interested in their opinions.

Lirienne smiled when she saw Veronique, who was dressed in a simple dress of white crepe. Her hair was crimped up from her forehead with only a pair of ringlets dripping along her bare neck.

“Veronique, how pretty you look!” she exclaimed as she held her hands out to her friend.

Veronique's eyes widened. “I didn't expect to see you tonight. Not after what—”

“Philippe had plans I wasn't aware of. I shan't be helping with your gown.”

“I'm so glad. It would have strained our friendship, and I value that far more than the fancywork on my wedding dress. You must tell me all about the
vicomte's
plans.” Her eyes twinkled. “Do they include coming with us north to the new settlement?”

“Yes, but how—”

“Percival told me that he had discussed the plans with the
vicomte
when we last spoke with you.” She smiled. “I'm so glad you are coming with us. I know no one else among these ladies.”

“Then allow me to introduce you.” As she was about to turn, a finger tapped her shoulder. She smiled at Madame de Talebot. Her smile faded as she stared at the handsome man with her. She tried to breathe. She could not. She must leave. Now!

No one seemed to note her horror as Madame de Talebot gushed, “I don't believe you have met the Vicomtesse de Villeneuve, Monsieur Jullian. Can you believe that Philippe finally decided to marry?”

“How do you do, Vicom—” The man scowled. “Vicomtesse?”

She took a step back and bumped into a table.

“What's amiss?” Veronique asked, steadying a statue that rocked on the table.

She shook her head. How could she explain that she knew this man? That Monsieur Jullian was one of Madame Fortier's lovers? Sickness churned through her as she remembered the last time she had seen him. Monsieur Jullian had been sneaking out of Madame Fortier's room, hoping not to be seen, in the moments before Philippe's arrival on the day he had asked her to marry him. How could she forget that others would know what she had been until a few months ago?

When she turned to flee, he shouted, “Stop her!”

A hand clamped on her arm, and she looked up at Percival Goyette. “Please release me, sir. I have to—”

He looked past her. “Monsieur Jullian, is there a problem?”

“Why is
she
here?”

“She's a guest. She's the wife of Vicomte de Villeneuve.”

“His wife?” Monsieur Jullian snickered. “Are you jesting? Don't you know who she is?”

“Vicomtesse de Villeneuve,” answered another guest.

In dismay, Lirienne saw she was surrounded by curious guests. Where was Philippe?

Madame de Talebot frowned. “You should apologize to—”

“You must be joking! Don't you recognize this woman? She was a lower servant in the Fortiers' country home.”

“She's a servant?” Veronique cried in astonishment, looking at Monsieur Goyette who was frowning. “No wonder you're skilled at sewing!”

“Veronique, let me explain—”

Monsieur Jullian's laugh swallowed her words. “Do you think Charmaine sent her with Philippe so she could report back on whom he slept with?” He pointed at her waist. “It appears very obvious whose bed he's been sharing recently.”

A woman tittered behind her hand, but Lirienne said, “If you'll excuse me, Philippe—”

“What possible excuse can you have?” His comment set off more laughter among the guests. “Do you think your husband cares about anything but the pleasure you can give him in his bed when he can't be with Charmaine Fortier?”

Her hand rose, but she faltered. To strike one of these people was unthinkable. She was what she was. She could not change them or herself.

Monsieur Jullian grasped her arm. Giving her a push toward the door, he snarled, “Why don't you go back to the sty where you were born?”

Monsieur Goyette said, “Now see here. This—”

He was shoved aside as all laughter faded. Philippe spat through clenched teeth, “Don't touch my wife, Jullian.”

The offensive man's nose wrinkled. “I'll leave enjoying her animal touch to you, although how you can endure it after—”

Screams buffeted her ears as Philippe shattered his wine glass on the hearth. He grabbed Monsieur Jullian by the lapels and slammed him against the wall. She stared at the murderous rage on Philippe's face, the same rage she had seen when he'd punched a hole through the wall in Madame Fortier's bedchamber. Philippe's fist drove Monsieur Jullian's head back. He collapsed to the floor, blood trickling from his mouth and nose. A woman shrieked and swooned.

Lirienne could not scream. She could not move as she stared at Monsieur Jullian. When he woke, he would be even more determined to spread the truth.

“Philippe, calm yourself,” Monsieur de Talebot said.

“I shall if this man is removed.” He turned to Lirienne, and she could not pull her gaze from the fury in her husband's eyes.

“Of course,
mon seigneur
,” murmured someone. She was not sure who, because she continued to stare at Philippe.

He walked to her and took her hands in his. Lifting them to his lips, he kissed each one gently. His rage was vanishing as quickly as it had exploded. “Did that beast hurt you,
ma petite
?”

“No,” she whispered. “He recognizes me.”

“Say no more.” Looking back at the man who was being carried out by a pair of footmen, he chuckled. “I'm grateful for the opportunity to do what I've wanted to do for years.” He raised his voice and said, “Cornélie, forgive me for distressing your guests.”

“But if what he said is true,” Cornélie murmured, “then she is—”

“My wife.” He placed Lirienne's hand on his sleeve.

She watched the guests exchange uneasy glances, but smiled as Monsieur Goyette stepped forward to say, “You will be glad to know, Madame de Villeneuve, that Monsieur Jullian has decided to remain in Philadelphia.”

“Veronique …” She looked for her friend, but saw her leaning over the woman who had fainted.

Monsieur Goyette's smile broadened. “I know she is looking forward to your call tomorrow, madame.”

She wanted to hug Monsieur Goyette and Veronique, who smiled in her direction. Their kindness was unexpected. Maybe she had been wrong to label all aristocrats as being as evil and selfish as Madame Fortier.

After the other guests followed Monsieur Goyette's lead and offered apologies which Philippe accepted with a genteel smile, Lirienne drew him out into the hallway. He smiled as he pulled her beneath the stairs, where the shadows had fled from the glow of the lamps. His kiss stole her breath from her, and she wanted to forget anything but the pleasure she had found in his arms.

He tilted her chin up. “I know what you want to say, but,
ma petite
, do not let this concern you. Jullian has a reputation for opening his mouth without thinking first. He often finds himself in trouble for being where he shouldn't be.”

She gnawed on her lower lip. How could she tell him the truth about Monsieur Jullian and Madame Fortier when Philippe had come to her rescue tonight? Just as the prince had come to Cinderella's aid in the fairy tale.

As his arm brought her into his arms again, she let her fears sift away beneath his kiss. Maybe, it was still possible for dreams to come true.

Eleven

“I'm sorry.”

Vachel de Talebot waved Philippe's apology aside. “No need to say anything.” Pouring two glasses of wine, he held one out to Philippe who was sitting by the hearth. “I only wish you had let me know who it was you had married when you stayed with me that night. I might have been able to ease the situation for you.”

“Goyette handled it well.” He tried to smile, but his head was aching as if he had already swallowed too much of this wine.

“He did, didn't he?” Vachel laughed as he sat. “The young pup might have inherited his father's good sense.” Taking a sip of the wine, he grimaced. “I miss France, if for nothing else, our exquisite wines.”

“Someday, we shall enjoy them again.” Philippe set his glass down untasted. “For now, we have our new homes to look forward to.”

“I have been told they will be waiting for us when we arrive.” Vachel chuckled. “If all goes well, you need not be bothered by your wife's pregnancy.”

“What do you mean?”

“You aren't thinking of bringing her with you, are you?” He took another cautious sip. “Cornélie has no interest in spending the winter there.”