Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4 (10 page)

Finally, she tore herself away to perform the act she had come for. Going outside again and finding the door dedicated to Saint Anne, Briana’s patron saint, whose name was Briana’s own middle name, she prayed fervently for Charles’s recovery. The door was richly carved, and as she backed away to look at all the designs, she ran smack into the wrought-iron gate, jumping because she thought she’d bumped into someone.

The door was almost seven hundred years old, and Briana stood there marveling at it, oblivious to time, until it began to get quite dark. She turned away, sad, knowing she would probably never see Saint Anne’s door again, and hurried back to Charles.

She was glad, so glad she had made the journey through the streets of Paris and prayed to her patron saint. Saint Anne’s door was something she would remember all her life, and the knowledge comforted her.

She ran across the Pont Neuf. It was fully dark by then, and she was frightened. As she reached the other side of the bridge and ran the two blocks to the hospital, she hoped she was in time to see what Charles was being fed for his supper. She had grave doubts about the food, partly because he hadn’t even bothered trying to tell her it was all right. It wasn’t all right; it was awful. Oh, why was everything in her brother’s life so terrible?

The hospital was old and smelled revolting. She scolded herself for hating to be there. Why, Charles had been there for months, and who knew when he would be able to leave? If he could bear the odor of cabbage and ether, the ancient rotting wood and the flies, if he could live there, then she could stay with him until she had to leave for the night.

One afternoon, when Charles was sleeping again and she thought he wouldn’t mind if she left for a couple of hours, she walked across the Pont Neuf, asking for directions from gendarmes, careful not to look in the eyes of any men on the way, until she reached the much talked-about Gardens of Luxembourg, with their lovely statues and beautiful grounds. Finding an empty bench, she sat and looked at the gardens, the palace ahead, soothed by the air of peace. How charming it all was!

All of Paris, in fact, had such an ethereal air about it, it seemed that nothing bad could possibly happen in Paris. Was it true? Would Charles be safe here? she asked herself for the dozenth time.

Having lived all her life in either Nice or Monaco, Briana was frankly terrified of Paris. The nights were brutal, or so she had been warned, with thieves preying on the unwary and all manner of men chasing unescorted females into dark alleys.

But the days in Paris were so lovely that she always forgot her nighttime terrors. In the sun, Paris gleamed. Many buildings were made of white stucco, and nearly as many had roofs of red tile. The combination was dazzling, beautiful, and she began to understand why people wanted so badly to live there.

There was something unearthly about Paris during the day, especially in bright sunlight, and Briana’s heart took flight when she walked through its colorful streets. Would she really be able to live there one day, she and Charles? Surely he would not fail to get better in this magical place.

The sound of light knocking and the door opening brought Briana out of her reverie. She looked up as Marice Clausand stepped into the cottage. Marice, the daughter of a caretaker on an estate to the south, had been Briana’s friend for several years.

The sight of Marice, lovely in an elegant yellow satin, gown, surprised Briana. “Where on Earth did you get that?” Marice was as poor as she was, and Briana had never seen her in anything but muslin.

Marice, face glowing with happiness, grabbed her skirt and twirled around and around. She stopped before Briana, grinning. “Isn’t it lovely? And look at this!” She held out her wrist, on which sparkled a thin gold bracelet.

Awed, Briana touched it, shaking her head. “What happened? How did you get these things?”

Marice settled herself on the floor near her friend, patting her skirt smugly. Admiring her bracelet, she smiled and said, “Well…let’s just say that I got very, very smart, Briana.”

Briana knew that she had recently taken work at a bistro, much to her parents’ dismay. “I didn’t know you were making so much money.”

Marice laughed sharply. “I’m not, silly—not serving food, anyway.” She leaned forward. “I discovered that I am sitting on pure gold, Briana.”

Briana’s head moved back as she stared at Marice. Surely Marice didn’t mean what Briana thought she meant.

Marice stiffened. “Oh, don’t look so self-righteous. Why should a woman give it away if men are willing to pay for it? All this gown cost me was an hour with a man. If I’d had to pay for it myself, it would have taken me forever to save the money. And this bracelet…” She held up her arm and shook it. “Two hours of the easiest work I’ve ever done.” She eyed her friend closely, waiting for her response.

Briana began to shake her head slowly from side to side, numb with horror. “Oh, Marice, I know it’s none of my business, but—but it’s terrible. It’s sinful, and—”

“And we’ve both been giving it away free for years,” Marice snapped. “Only
I
got smart. If you were smart, you’d do the same thing.”

Briana’s ire rose. How dared Marice make such assumptions? “I’ve never given my…anything away. I’ve never sold anything, either. I’ve never been with a man.”

Marice grinned a nasty grin. “Do you expect me to believe you’ve kept your job here without pleasuring Monsieur Mason? Everyone knows how he is.”

“I don’t care what you believe about me,” Briana interrupted hotly. “I wish you hadn’t told me this.”

Marice’s eyes flashed. “I told you this, you little fool, because I care about you. What’s going to become of you when Madame deBonnett loses everything? What will you do? There is no way I could ever have gotten along on what I was making before I got smart. Now I am going to be moving away from my parents. I’m taking a room above the bistro. And when I’ve saved enough money, I’ll buy lots of beautiful gowns so I can move to Paris and marry a wealthy man and spend the rest of my life in luxury.”

“You will become a demimondaine,” Briana said furiously, “and your family will disown you. You will break their hearts. No decent man will have you. The best you’ll ever be able to hope for is to be a mistress.” Angry, and frightened for her friend, she gathered steam. “And what happens when you grow old and lose your beauty? You’ll become madam of a whorehouse!” Briana touched her friend’s shoulder, finishing, “You’re making a tragic mistake.”

“Don’t you dare pity me, you little fool,” Marice sneered. “It is
I
who pity
you.
I came here to try to help you, but I should have known better. You never were as smart as I am.”

Briana stared at her in silence. She didn’t want to fight with Marice. When had Marice begun to change? she wondered, and why hadn’t she seen it? Had she been too absorbed by her own problems?

Finally, she reached out and took her friend’s hand. In the kindest voice she could manage, she said, “Marice, give up this kind of life before you can’t turn back.”

“Oh, shut up!” Marice snatched her hand away. “I did not come here to have you lecture me. I’m happy. And look at you—poor, as you always will be.” Marice leaped to her feet, gave her long auburn hair a toss, and stared down at Briana in contempt. “And you’re lying when you say you’ve never been with a man. You’re no virgin. You’re just too proud to admit you were stupid enough to give yourself away and not get anything in return.”

She ran to the door, turning to glare at Briana one last time. “Come to Paris and beg in the streets, Briana. When I see you, I’ll give you a few francs for old times’ sake.” She walked out the door, closing it with a bang.

Briana felt like crying. Marice, she knew, had not really come only to reveal her plans. She had come seeking approval and, receiving quite the opposite, had become angry. The two would never be friends again, but there was nothing Briana could do about that, or anything she could do to change Marice.

Briana got up, smoothing her worn skirt, and walked to the mirror that hung on the wall opposite the door. She pushed her hair back away from her face. She looked at herself for a long moment. She looked tired. She
was
tired. Madame deBonnett was an ogre these days, making unreasonable demands. It was as though she were trying to get every shred of work out of Briana in anticipation of the time when she would be forced to dismiss her. She had already dismissed the butler and the cook. Briana was now required to take over those duties. Only by sneaking out of the house while Madame napped was she able to have a few moments of respite.

Briana sighed, knowing
madame
would be awake now, and probably screaming for tea and cake.

Preparing to go back to the château, she turned away from the mirror, lifted her skirt, and smoothed her black cotton stockings.

“Nice. But lift the skirt a bit higher, please.”

Briana gasped and whirled around. Her fright was at once replaced by fury as she saw Gavin leaning in the doorway, smiling insolently, eyes bright, as usual.

She jerked her garments down and cried hoarsely, “How dare you!” She pointed at him. “Get out of here!”

He kicked the door shut and began moving slowly toward her. “It’s time we had a talk, Briana. Strictly business, however. You’ve nothing to fear.”

She lifted her chin defiantly and said clearly, “I’ve never been afraid of you,
monsieur
. And we have nothing to discuss. I work for
Madame
deBonnett,
not for you,”
she added pointedly.

Reaching her side, Gavin touched her bare arm and murmured, “Such smooth skin for a woman of the servant class.”

She swatted his hand away and marched to the door. “You have no right to be here. This is my home, and you are intruding, sir.”

He crossed the room and slammed the door. The smile left his face, and his eyes narrowed menacingly. Grabbing her shoulders, he pushed her into a nearby chair, towering over her to yell. “Enough insolence. You will listen to what I have to say or else I’ll mess up that pretty face so badly that you’ll be ashamed to be seen. Do you understand me?”

Briana, still not intimidated, tried to get up, but he shoved her back down and pressed his hands against her shoulders, hard. She tried to push him away, but he slapped her, then entwined his fingers in her long hair and pulled on it mercilessly. Held that way, utterly helpless, she had no choice but to hear him out.

“I really don’t want to hurt you, Briana. You’re of no use to me if you’re battered. Now, will you behave yourself and listen?”

Briana hoped her hatred of him was in her eyes as he gave her hair another yank. “Say what you’ve got to say,” she conceded.

He released her so abruptly she toppled to the floor. Before she could scramble to her feet, he picked her up and sat her in the chair again. “Now then, I will talk, and you will listen.”

His eyes moved to her heaving bosom, and he sighed. “I must admit it’s hard to discuss business when you inspire…other thoughts.”

“Please say what you came here to say,” she requested coldly.

“Ah, Briana, such spirit,” he said. “You’d be sheer delight in bed, moving those luscious hips, with me rammed inside you. Certainly you’d be better than that little twit Marice. Oh, yes,” he informed her, “I saw her come in. I was waiting for her to leave. I’ve had many a good tumble with her, but she’s decided to sell what she was giving me for free, and, unfortunately, my allowance has been greatly reduced, so…”

He sat down across from her. “I suppose,” he continued musingly, “that if we are going to be business partners, I shall have to be completely candid with you and say that my allowance is, actually, nonexistent. The deBonnett fortune is gone, as you doubtless know. Alaina has a reprieve from the bank, but unless something is done soon, the château will have to be sold.”

“What do you want of me?” she interrupted. “I have my own troubles.”

He nodded. “Yes, I know you do, and that is why we need each other, Briana. You are going to help me and Alaina, and you’re also going to be able to help yourself and that poor, sick brother of yours.”

He lit a cheroot and inhaled, then blew the smoke out slowly before saying kindly, “How would you like to have enough money to pay for your brother’s operation?”

She went stiff with shock. She had never known Gavin Mason to do anything charitable, so there had to be something devious in his mind. “You are not going to get me to submit to you. Not even for that kind of money.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Of course not. I can have you any time I want you, you silly girl, don’t you understand that? Besides, I’d never pay that much for any woman. No, I’ve something else in mind, something that will require you to be quite a good actress. Are you desperate enough to do a good job?”

“That depends on what you have in mind. I have my principles,” she informed him.

“But you also have a price,” he said wearily. “Everyone does. Now, here is the proposition I’m making to you.”

“I’m listening,” she said warily.

“I will tell your brother’s doctors in Paris to prepare for the operation. I will have Charles moved to a private hospital so he will receive the best of care while he’s waiting for the operation. How
soon
the operation takes place will depend entirely on you. It’s a question of how quickly you get your job done.”