Lady of Shame (20 page)

He didn’t want to think about it.

Jeremy chuckled. ‘She went missing the day before I left.’

André felt his heart beat a little harder against his ribs. Anxiety. ‘But she was found, of course.’

‘Up a tree. Trying to see into a bird’s nest.’

André laughed at the image.

‘They needed a ladder to get her down.’

‘I expect her mother was frantic.’

‘Apparently not. She was laughing so hard she had to ask Joe Coyle to climb up the ladder in her stead.’

André felt a glow of pride. It seemed Claire had been able to put her fears to rest. ‘Is she engaged yet?’ he asked casually. Too casually, apparently, because Jeremy raised a brow.

Sacrebleu
, why had he asked? He did not want to know.

‘If so I never heard anything of it.’

Time to change the subject. ‘And the other servants. Mademoiselle Becca?’

‘All still the same.’

They subsided into the silence of old friends.

‘I see you’ve been through the mill a couple of times recently.’ Jeremy jerked his chin at André’s face and then gave his knuckles a pointed glance.

‘A little argument with a bully.’ Who had wanted to keep him from seeing an ugly customer named Pratt. ‘It is nothing.’ It had felt good to teach Pratt and his man a lesson they would not forget. Once he’d paid them their money.

‘So what about this partnership, then?’ Jeremy asked.

André grimaced apologetically. ‘It will be a good while before I have enough money, but if you would care to wait?’ He shrugged.

Jeremy sucked on his empty pipe and put it down with a glower of disgust. ‘You didn’t gamble it away, did you? I don’t hold with gambling. It takes a man down too far and too fast.’

‘I had a friend who needed help.’

‘Will he pay you back?’

‘No.’ He didn’t want repayment. Being able to do something, one small thing for Claire, had eased some of the pain he’d felt at leaving.

‘So how long will it take, do you think?’

‘Two, three years, if I work hard. I will find a good position with one of the political hostesses perhaps. Find a patron.’

‘All right. I’m in.’ Jeremy stuck out his hand.

André shook it and poured them both another glass of wine, which they downed in one swallow. A gentleman’s agreement, they called it in England.

‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to have a puff of me pipe out in the alley before I turns into bed. I know you don’t like the smoke so I will take it outside.’

‘I appreciate your thoughtfulness,
mon ami
.’

Jeremy put on his coat, wound a scarf around his neck and left. André looked at the half-drunk bottle. When he was busy, he didn’t feel so bad, but when he was alone, the pain of loss returned. What had she said? Love is a selfless thing? Did he love her? He wasn’t sure he could love anyone, but he did know he couldn’t have felt happier than when he paid off that villain Pratt with money and his fists.

And if Claire was laughing at her daughter’s antics, then it seemed he’d made a good choice, whatever it was called.

And for some reason he was happy about deciding to take Jeremy on as a partner when he had never wanted any permanent attachments in his life. Perhaps it was the dark void inside him he was trying to fill.

Perhaps he’d filled a corner.

Chapter Seventeen

G
iles glanced up and down the alley at the back of Grillons Hotel, and kept a firm hold on Claire’s elbow. ‘This is no place for a lady. Let me go in and bring him down to you. You can meet in the carriage.’

As sorry as she felt for putting Giles in this uncomfortable position she was not going to let him change her mind. ‘Your presence will make things difficult. He will feel constrained. Perhaps even obliged. I don’t want that.’

He muttered something unflattering under his breath. ‘I think I am a damned fool. I will give you five minutes, then I will come up and find you.’

‘Ten.’ If she could not get her business done in ten minutes it would not get done at all. ‘You’ve done your part, Giles. You settled things with His Grace, and you found Monsieur Deval. This is my part to play.’

‘It was little enough. I simply looked where I found him in the first place.’ He rubbed at the back of his head, knocking his hat askew in his concern. ‘You always were a stubborn woman, Claire. I can only hope you are not making another mistake.’

She hoped so too. She pulled her arm free.

The back door to the hotel opened to discharge a huge man, who huddled against an alley wall to light a pipe.

‘Chef Jeremy,’ Claire called out, recognising his face in the glow of the tobacco.

The big man turned towards them, his body tense. ‘Who is there?’

‘Lord Giles Montague,’ Giles announced, stepping between Claire and the taut Jeremy. Protective. He just couldn’t help himself.

Claire stepped around Giles’s bulk. ‘It is Mrs Holte. Can you tell me where I can find Monsieur Deval?’

Jeremy came closer, eyeing her warily. ‘Good evening, madam. A bit late to come calling, isn’t it? Is aught amiss?’

‘I simply wish to have words with him.’

Chef Jeremy looked at her, then at Giles still bristling defensively at her side. ‘I’ll fetch him down, then, shall I?’

‘No.’ She spoke too sharply for he recoiled. ‘Tell me where to find him and I will go up. Alone.’

The man’s jaw dropped, folding his many chins in creases. ‘No women allowed in the men’s rooms.’

‘I told you,’ Giles said.

‘I won’t be but a moment. Tell me where to find him.’

The fat man’s face split in a grin. ‘It won’t be the first time a woman found her way up to the men’s quarters.’ He winked at Giles, who glowered. ‘Third floor, first door on the left.’

Finally. She had begun to think she would have to send Giles up for him, after all. ‘Ten minutes,’ she said to Giles, and passed through the door Chef Jeremy held open and climbed the stairs.

* * *

André stoppered the wine bottle with a regretful sigh. Oblivion tonight, headache tomorrow. He needed all his wits about him if he was to move up through the ranks again. He would have to work hard to recoup enough funds to move on, even with a partner.

Once the pain of missing Claire left him, everything would go as planned. And wine wasn’t going to help with that.

He knelt to slide the bottle under the bed. The door opened behind him. ‘That was fast,
mon ami
. The wind is too cold,
non
?’

‘André?’

He spun around on his knees, not sure he believed what he was hearing. He did believe his eyes. ‘Claire?’

She stood in the doorway, lovely, doubtful, unsure. ‘Oh, my word, what happened to your face?’

‘Qu’est-ce que c’est?’
He shook his head at his foolish tongue. ‘What is wrong? Is it Jane?’’

She clasped her hands behind her back, looking small and vulnerable and as if she had not slept well. ‘Jane is fine. I wanted to thank you. For what you did. It is such a weight off my shoulders.’

He rose slowly to his feet. He had not anticipated her seeking him out. He had not thought he would have to say goodbye to her again. He did not want this. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

‘The money.’

He shook his head. ‘I beg your pardon, I do not understand. Please go. You should not be here.’

Her lovely grey eyes darkened like storm clouds over the peaks. ‘I am not a fool, André. You spoke of buying a hotel, of owning your own restaurant, yet here you are back working for someone else, while I am debt-free.’

He’d been right. She was a tiger and right now she had her claws out. He fought for control. ‘Your family would not approve of your coming here.’

‘They know where I am.’

‘And Jane?’

‘She is at Castonbury with her cousin, Lady Phaedra.’ A small smile tugged at her lips. ‘I didn’t dare tell her I planned to see you. She would have insisted on coming with me. She misses you.’

Something hard and hot squeezed up behind his nose and made his eyes want to water. He turned away from her, staring at the stark white wall above the head of his cot. ‘So, now you have thanked me you can go.’

‘Why?’ she asked softly. ‘Why did you give up all your grand plans to help me?’

How did one put the emotion that had urged him on into words.
I felt sorry for you?
That would make her angry. And it really wasn’t true and she would know. ‘You deserved it,’ he said finally. ‘It was what you said. Your unselfish love for your child deserved its reward.’

‘And you? Don’t you deserve your reward?’

A jolt when through his body at the thought of the form such a reward might take. He tamped it down. This wasn’t about sex. It had gone far beyond that. Too far for him to feel comfortable.

‘I don’t need a reward.’

‘Not if the reward was me?’

Another searing jolt. He turned to face her with a frown.

She shook her head. ‘That did not come out the way I meant. André, you gave me the freedom to choose for myself. What if I choose you?’

He stared at her, dumbfounded, then laughed, to hide his shock and the leap of longing in his heart. The thoughts of a home and a family. The old fear twisted in his chest. The fear that it wouldn’t last. The painful landing was almost too much to endure, yet he somehow managed to raise a brow. ‘Now who is mad?’ he said, not surprised to find his voice raw and hoarse. ‘I am a chef. I would not put you in the position of sinking so low, or going against your family.’

‘And if they approve?’

It was like being a fish caught on a line twisting and turning, trying to break free. Only a very clever fish could do that. ‘They wouldn’t.’

‘They would approve if you were a hotelier, with prospects. I could help you. I am not afraid of hard work.’

Help him? When all he had wanted was the privilege of helping her? How could he allow her to stoop so low? ‘There is no hotel.’ He gestured around the bare room, fought to gain control of the longing that interfered with his thoughts and his reason. ‘And I am quite content with this. I have women aplenty and no ties or responsibilities. As long as I have my knives, I can take my skills anywhere I wish, because I have no one to hold me back. I do not want a wife. I have never wanted a wife. We had a liaison. It was very nice. It is over.’

He turned away from the hurt in her eyes. Fought to control the shaking in his body. Tried to find the anger in his heart that had always shielded him from such powerful emotions when it came to people. She’d carved her way through the barrier to the stupid softness inside. The part that had cried when his mother left him. The part he thought he had eradicated.

This past week he’d made a good job of repairing the walls, he could not let her break them down again.

‘What are you so afraid of, André?’

The whispered question drove the breath from his body. An accusation of cowardice. A sly blow from his blind side. She was wrong. He was afraid of nothing. It was not possible to be afraid when you lived by your wits. And living by his wits was what he did best.

‘Tell me, André. Surely I deserve to know?’

A vision of his mother riding away to screams of a mob out for blood filled his vision. He’d needed someone once, desperately. He’d called out. She’d heard him, but never glanced back, and then she’d spurred her horse onwards. His mother had abandoned him to strangers when he’d needed her most.

She hadn’t cared if he lived or died.

Later, when he had recovered from the shock, from the betrayal, he’d understood she’d been afraid too. She’d feared for her life and had done what she felt she needed to do. The
curé
who whisked him away in the dark had said almost those very words.
She did what she must.
He never forgot them or the lesson he’d learned.

From that day to this, he hadn’t needed anyone. He took care of himself. By paying off her debt, he’d given her completely the wrong idea.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I think you misunderstood.’

The silence, so full of hurt, almost killed him. He wanted to call back the words and lie. He wanted to hold her close and forget in her arms. But if he did, his whole world would turn upside down and he would be lost.

He heard the door open and close and when he looked over his shoulder she was gone. Only the lingering scent of her perfume remained to prove it wasn’t all a dream. A figment of his imagination.

Just as his mother’s departure hadn’t been a dream, though he had dreamt of it every night for years. Cried out in his sleep too. And the terror that he’d done something wrong had left him paralyzed. Until he’d realised she was the one to blame, not him, and anger had replaced the hurt.

He sank down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. Clenched his fists and felt the welcome pain of the tug of his fingers in his hair.

The door opened and hope rose in his throat. He let it go with a grunt when he saw Jeremy.

The big man peeled off his coat and hung it on the hook on the back of his door, then started on the buttons on his waistcoat. ‘She said she would wait at the White Hart for three days. Then she will be returning to Derbyshire.’

‘She might as well leave now,’ André said coldly.

‘What the hell did you say to her, Deval? She looked so happy when I told her where to find you. Now she looks crushed.’

‘You should not have sent her up here.’ He reached beneath the bed and pulled out the bottle of wine.

* * *

Why on earth had she said she would wait three days? He wasn’t coming. She’d always been perfectly clear theirs was a fling. He’d been happy with the arrangement. Why had she thought things had changed?

Yes, he was charming. Seductive. But he was another man who never settled long in one place. Clearly, her heart had made another terrible choice.

At least she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself and told him she thought she loved him. How ridiculous of her to think true love could be found in the space of three weeks.

Now poor Giles was champing at the bit to get back to his Lily. It wasn’t fair of her to drag him away from the woman he loved after already being away for weeks with Phaedra, and then make him wait around for something that would not happen. They should leave. Now. Today. But what if André came tomorrow? The stupid hope he might change his mind wouldn’t leave her alone. The hope he might feel something for her.

No, that wasn’t it. He cared for her. She knew he did, or he would not have paid off those debts. She also knew it from the way he had looked at her when she’d walked into his room. In that unguarded moment she had seen his joy at her arrival. Only then he’d retreated.

That was what she did not understand. That was the question she wanted answered. She’d thought about going back and trying again, but Giles had vetoed the suggestion. He’d made her feel a bit of an idiot, asking her if she had no pride.

It reminded her too much of what had happened when she’d ran off with George. He was right. This was stupid. They might as well leave today.

She left her chamber and went in search of him in the private parlour they had rented on the ground floor. He was reading the paper and looked up at her entrance.

He rose to his feet. ‘Claire. How are you doing?’

‘As well as might be expected.’

He looked at her with understanding. He’d told her some of the rocky road he had faced courting Lily, so she knew he understood. Somewhat.

He and Lily had worked through their differences.

It seemed she was doomed to spend the rest of her life a widow. She certainly wasn’t going to marry again, now she didn’t have to. Thank goodness she had Jane. Jane needed her and would for a good long while.

‘Would you like coffee or tea?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve decided we should go home.’

The look of utter joy on his face tugged at her heart. ‘I am so sorry for keeping you away for so long.’

‘No. Really, Claire. I was glad to be of service. I am just sorry—’

‘No sense in being sorry. It is time to move forward.’

He nodded. ‘I’m glad you see it that way. There are lots of very eligible gentlemen in Derbyshire.

‘I think Jane will be quite enough to keep me busy. I’ll find a cottage. I can earn a living taking in sewing. I’ve done it before.’

‘You will not.’

‘Really, Giles. I will not be a burden on the family. Don’t worry, I will make sure I am far enough away that the Montagues won’t be embarrassed by their poor relation, but I am really quite determined.’

‘We can talk about it on the way home.’

It sounded like the threat of an argument, but she was more than a match for her nephew. And a good discussion would while away the weary hours and keep her mind off André.

‘I’ll have the horses put to,’ he said, his eagerness making her smile.

‘Would you also ask our host to send up the chambermaid to help with the packing?’

‘Glad to.’

They parted ways at the bottom of the stairs and Claire climbed back up to her room. She glanced at the mountain of stuff she’d brought with her thinking she might stay for a while.

She sighed.

No. Enough pining. It did no good at all. She must focus on what she needed for the journey and what should go in her trunk. Her fur-lined cloak would serve as a carriage blanket as well as keep her warm when tripping out to the necessary or when they put up for the night. Hopefully Giles would remember to order hot bricks for their feet. Her best bonnet she would not need. She opened a hat box and popped it inside.