Ryan's Bride (8 page)

“
Bonsoir,
Monsieur
Tremayne.” He gave a slight bow.

“
Bonsoir
,” Ryan responded automatically as he rushed by him and on into the lobby. The time was later than he had planned, but at least he had accomplished all he had set out to do. A coach would arrive to take him to Blois at noon tomorrow. He had made arrangements for Angele to be fitted for her wardrobe and had the promise of the seamstress that everything would be ready when they set sail for New York.

He passed through the lobby with its marble floors gleaming in the lights of the candled chandeliers above. Vases of fresh flowers scented the air, and he wondered if Angele liked the perfume he’d selected for her, as well as everything else he had chosen.

He was about to start up the curving stairs but remembered he had no idea which room Angele was in. He turned and went to the desk.

He had not seen the man who was on duty before and introduced himself. “I’m Ryan Tremayne. A guest here. Room 208. The clerk on duty earlier was to assign a room to a lady friend of mine—
Mademoiselle
Benet. Can you give me the number please.”

The man ran his finger down the names on the register and found her name. “Room 320, but she is not there, sir.”

Ryan frowned. “What do you mean?”

The clerk gestured toward the rows of tiny boxes on the wall behind him, then pointed to the one marked 320. “The key is still there. When I came on duty the concierge said when he knocked on your door to tell her that her room was ready, she did not answer.”

“Did you see her go out?”

“No. And the concierge said he hadn’t seen her since he took her up there. He thought perhaps she was sleeping and didn’t hear him.”

“That’s likely. What about the package that was to be delivered to her? If you’ll give it to me, I’ll take it up to her myself.”

“Actually, we’ve been trying to deliver it to her all afternoon. In fact, one of the hotel’s errand boys was just sent upstairs with it to try again.”

“Thank you.” Ryan turned away but out of the corner of his eye saw the door to the service stairway opening. It was an errand boy. He recognized the blue coat and trousers they wore and smiled to see he wasn’t carrying anything. “I see you were able to awaken
Mademoiselle
Benet and give her the package. Did you show her to her room?”

The boy looked nervously at the clerk, who prodded, annoyed by his silence, “Well? Answer the gentleman.”

“No, sir, I didn’t,” he mumbled.

“Well, come on upstairs with me so you can.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not, sir.”

The clerk gave an exasperated sigh. “Sidney, what is wrong with you this evening? You are not being cooperative with our guest.”

Sidney stared at his feet. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to go.”

Voice steely, Ryan said, “I think you’d better tell me why.”

Sidney shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Answer him,” the clerk ordered, “or you can look for another job.”

“I just don’t want to get involved in case there’s trouble up there,” Sidney blurted. “That man and all…”

Ryan felt an invisible rod jam straight down his spine. He grabbed the boy by his shoulders and gave him a shake that sent his head bobbing to and fro. “What are you saying?”

Sidney twisted away, leaping out of Ryan’s reach. “She was with somebody—a man. I heard yelling, and…” He shook his head wildly from side to side. “
Monsieur
, I have said too much already. I am sorry, but I cannot help you. I want no trouble.”

He turned and ran back into the stairwell, the door banging shut behind him.

“
Monsieur
Tremayne, I will have the concierge go with you,” the desk clerk offered.

But Ryan had already crossed the lobby and was on his way upstairs.

Chapter Six

Corbett had chased after Angele and begged her to go back with him to Ryan’s room and give him a chance to explain how sorry he was for the way he had behaved. He swore it wasn’t like him, and he wanted her to understand he’d been drinking and also shocked to see her.

Reluctantly, Angele agreed, but she refused to let him carry the package. If it was another trick just to get everything back for Ryan, he was going to have a fight on his hands.

When they entered the room, she told him to leave the door open, and he obliged.

He gestured to one of the tall-backed brocade chairs positioned before the white tile fireplace. “Sit down, please. Can I get you a glass of wine? I’m sure Ryan has a carafe around here somewhere.”

She gave a curt nod to the mahogany sideboard and the crystal decanters and glasses arranged there. “He does. But I don’t care for any, thank you.” Her arms were wrapped around the box, which she held tight against her chest. “And I’ll just stand, because I don’t intend to be here long.”

Corbett ran nervous fingers through his curly red hair. He started to pace about, then slumped in one of the chairs. “Please start from the beginning and tell me everything.”

“No.
You
tell me everything.”

“I—” He threw up his hands in surrender. “I told you—I want to apologize. I realize you couldn’t have got in here without Ryan’s permission, but as I said, I’d been drinking and wasn’t thinking clearly. Now I see there must be some substance to your explanation, and I’d like to hear it again, if you don’t mind.”

She regarded him coldly. “Well, I
do
mind. You tried to…to
rape
me.” She hated the feel of the word in her mouth and uttered it quickly, harshly.

“I know my drinking isn’t an excuse, but it’s a reason, and…please…” He stood, and she moved closer to the open door. “If what you say is true, then I’m the world’s biggest idiot, and I apologize. And you have to believe me when I say that Ryan does not own a bordello. And if he asked you to marry him, he must have meant it.”

“You said he’s supposed to marry someone else.”

“Not officially. And I was apt to say anything, the state I was in, but this has been very sobering, believe me.”

Angele had smelled hard liquor on his breath, and she allowed that it had to be difficult for anyone to believe Ryan would want to marry her, looking as she did. But if his cousin was telling the truth, then she could start to believe once more that Ryan’s intentions were real.

As for his cousin, she would try very, very hard to give him the benefit of the doubt. He had naturally believed the worst, but it was important to get along with Ryan’s family.

“Could we just start over?” Corbett asked with a nervous smile.

Her nod of consent was anything but enthusiastic, yet it was enough for Corbett. The little twit was too stupid to realize he would never be her friend, but he had to make her believe otherwise. Because, if what she claimed was true—as he had begun to fear—then her days were sadly numbered. He was not about to risk losing his good life at BelleRose.

Angele was regarding him warily. “What do you mean when you say Ryan was not
officially
supposed to marry someone else?”

If Ryan married her, Corbett knew she would eventually hear about Denise. Then she would be angry with him for lying, and it was best to gain her confidence till he figured out a way to get rid of her. “Well, it’s a situation where everyone thought they would marry one day.” He saw no reason to divulge that Denise had turned Ryan down. That was none of her business, and Denise hadn’t meant it, anyway.

Angele relaxed a little. She recalled Ryan saying Corbett’s wife was French. That meant her cousin probably was also, and maybe that was why Ryan had been interested in her.

Still, she was nagged by uneasiness, and, deciding there was nothing else to be discussed, she wanted to get away from him. “My room should be ready by now, and I need to start dressing for dinner. Ryan should be back soon.”

“Do you know where he went? I haven’t seen him all day.”

“He just said he had some business to take care of.”

“Well, I can go find out about your room.”

Angele was grateful. After all, she did not relish walking into the lobby still looking like gutter trash. “That would be nice, thank you.”

He turned and slammed right into Ryan.

“Corbett, what are you doing here?”

Corbett looked to Angele, wondering if she was going to start screaming about what he had done, then breathed a sigh of relief when she spoke up. “He was looking for you, and it’s a good thing he knocked when he did. Otherwise, I’d still be sleeping. I guess I was more tired than I realized.”

“Yes, she was dead to the world, Ryan,” Corbett eagerly confirmed. “I had to practically knock the door down. We’ve just been talking, that’s all. Getting acquainted.”

“She told you why she was here?” Ryan’s mouth was a thin line.

“Yes, and I have to say it came as quite a surprise.”

“I’m sorry,” Angele leaped to say. “I know you probably wanted to tell him yourself, but I had to explain myself.”

“Yes, I suppose you did.”

“And I told him how grateful I am for your getting me out of jail.”

Ryan looked as though he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

Corbett’s eyes were gleaming. “Yes, that was real nice of you.”

Ryan’s soft groan went unheard as the concierge rushed up to ask, out of breath, “Is everything all right, sir? The desk clerk was worried and asked me to come up and see.”

Ryan absently waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Yes, everything is fine.”

“What could be wrong?” Corbett asked innocently.

“The boy who brought the package was confused to find a man in my room,” Ryan murmured. “That’s all. It’s nothing.”

Corbett seized the opportunity to point out, “Well, if he was confused over me, imagine how surprised I was when I saw her, and—”

Ryan cut him off to ask the concierge to show Angele to her room.

The concierge nodded stiffly, unable to take his eyes off Angele as he tried to contain his disgust over her appearance.

“Have hot water sent up for her bath,” Ryan continued, “and also a
coiffeur
.” He turned to Angele. “I will meet you in the lobby in two hours, and we’ll have dinner.”

The minute the door closed behind them, Corbett exploded. “Have you lost all your senses? The very idea—taking that—that trollop out of jail, telling her you’ll marry her. I can’t believe any of this.” He threw his hands up in the air.

“It’s none of your concern,” Ryan responded tightly as he took off his coat. He threw it on a chair, then went to the chiffonier and took out a fresh shirt. He’d had to buy new clothes for the trip to France in order to be stylish—something Clarice had insisted upon for both him and Corbett. He did not like at all the lines of costume that he felt produced a womanish figure—sloping shoulders, coat collars rolled high across the back of the neck. He much preferred the comfortable riding clothes and Wellington boots he wore at home.

He got disgusted with himself at times for how he let her tell him what to do, but it was easier than arguing. At least when he got married, she would stay out of his business, and he sure wasn’t worried about Angele trying to mother him. Especially when it came to clothes. No doubt the reason she was reluctant to talk about her background was shame over having been raised poor.

He stripped off the shirt he was wearing.

Corbett gave an exaggerated sigh. “We need to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do. Please tell me you aren’t seriously considering marrying that girl.”

Ryan pulled on the new white shirt with pleated front. “No, I’m not
considering
it. I’m going to. And my mind is made up, so there’s no point discussing it.”

Corbett went to the sideboard. A crystal decanter filled with whiskey sat next to the wine. He yanked out the stopper and filled a glass, then downed it in one long gulp. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he took several deep breaths, then said, “Damn it, man. You have lost your mind. She’s a thief—”

“She said she stole because she was hungry,” Ryan said matter-of-factly. “And I believe her.”

“And you’re a fool. You know nothing about her.”

“I know all I need to know. She’s an orphan. She has no home. She’s grateful to me for giving her one. She’ll be obedient. She’ll make a good wife.”

Corbett poured himself another drink but did not gulp it down as he had the other. He sipped, chest heaving as he appeared to be struggling for composure. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. Finally, he emptied the glass and slammed it down with a loud thud. “Have you thought about Denise and how this is going to hurt her?”

“She refused me, remember?”

“But she was only trifling with you…playing a little joke.”

“I don’t joke about things like marriage, Corbett.”

Corbett threw back his head and laughed. “I’d say what you’re planning to do is the biggest joke I’ve ever heard in my whole life. You want to marry a thief you found in the sewers—
catacombs
”—he corrected in deference to Angele’s earlier reminder—“and take her to BelleRose to be mistress of the house.”