Sweet Bravado (13 page)

It was Perry who recognized him. “I say, Danforth, do you make it a habit of following us, or is it coincidence that you keep
popping up when I have the pleasure of accompanying my sister-in-law?”

“A most happy coincidence I can assure you.” Gordon Danforth smiled fleetingly and bowed to Nicole who had turned to face
him. “Lady Ardsmore, my pleasure.”

“Mr. Danforth, how nice to see you again.”

“Thank you. Are you doing your Christmas shopping?”

“Yes, and you?”

“The same.”

She did not like his scrutiny and turned abruptly to the clerk to order the snuff box.

“Would you have time to join me for an aperitif before…”

“Oh, I do not think we will have time.” Nicole interrupted him before Perry could reply.

Undaunted by his sister-in-law’s denial, however, Perry contradicted her. “Sure we do, Nicole. We have the whole day, and
my feet are killing me!”

“There is a splendid restaurant at the end of the arcade. Quite exclusive. Shall we say about four?” Danforth seemed as determined
as Perry that she would concede to their wish. Nicole hesitated between good manners and a rude refusal. She could murder
Perry for forcing her to associate with this man whom her husband considered his closest friend.

“Very well,” she acquiesced rather ungraciously.

“Until four,” Danforth bowed solemnly and retreated.

“Nicole, why didn’t you want to meet him? Gordon Danforth is a perfect gentleman and…”

“And a spying friend of your brother’s!” she spat at him. Perry opened his mouth to protest but Nicole silenced him, “I do
not wish to discuss it! Let us finish our Christmas shopping.”

Nicole fumed inwardly through the next half hour as Perry hovered nearby in his own black mood. Finally she asked, “Don’t
you have any shopping of your own to do?”

“As a matter of fact I do!”

“Well, then, go do it!”

Color suffused his face as Perry jammed his hat on his head, whirled on his heels and stalked away. Realizing she had hurt
him unjustly, Nicole’s anger turned against herself. She had been unkind to one who had treated her only with consideration.
It was her infernal Harcourt temper. She must apologize to Perry and find an appropriate gift to accompany that apology. Returning
to the jeweler’s, she selected a silver stick pin for her brother-in-law and had it wrapped in holiday paper. As she turned
to leave, her attention was caught by another piece of jewelry. It was an emerald and sapphire stick-pin cunningly fashioned
as a mask of tragedy. It was the perfect gift for Valentin. She stared transfixed by the desire to buy it. The temptation
was too powerful to resist. “I’ll take it,” she heard herself saying, and gathering her purchases she left the shop to meet
Perry in the arcade.

They met Danforth in a small café on the Rue de la Paix. Although Nicole tried to cover her agitation from Valentin’s polite
well-mannered friend, conversation was strained. She could not relax in Gordon Danforth’s presence. For Nicole, his loyalty
to the Viscount was an obstacle impeding the natural flow of friendship between them. She was seeking a means of early retreat
when she heard her name being called. She turned to see a fair-haired girl in a faded blue gown making her way toward the
table.

“Nicole, is it really you?”

“Geneviève!” Nicole exclaimed rising to embrace the girl joyfully. Geneviève Lumière and Nicole Harcourt had been inseparable
friends at St. Agnes’s School but had not seen each other in recent years.

“Ma chère
Nicole, how wonderful to find you like this.” Mademoiselle Lumière smiled and looked at Nicole’s
two companions whom Nicole introduced while inviting her to join them.

“Only for a moment. I am with
Tante
Aline,” she explained as she was seated. “So,
mon amie,
you are a married woman. I… I am… happy for you.”

Nicole knew the cause of Geneviève’s hesitant good wishes. “I was sorry to hear about Henri, Ginny. Your brother was a dear
friend to me, and I shall always remember him kindly.”

Geneviève seemed to forget the others. “He had hoped to make you a member of the family one day…”

Casting a nervous glance at the two men, Nicole spoke hastily. “But, Ginny, you must know that could never have been.”

Catching the anxiety in Nicole’s voice, Mademoiselle Lumière recovered her poise and turned the conversation into less sensitive
channels of school-day recollections. Danforth and Perry questioned the girls about St. Agnes’s and added a few anecdotes
about their own school days that amused their feminine listeners.

“Oh, but it is so good to laugh with you again, Nicole. How I have missed our cozy
tête-à-têtes.”
She paused glancing around the room. “But now I must leave you and join
Tante
Aline. She grows impatient, I fear.”

“Very well, Ginny, but you must come and visit me soon. We have much to catch up on. Madame Lafittejs returning to Paris any
day now and will insist on seeing you.”

“I too would like to see the good woman again,” Ginny claimed earnestly. “Nicole,
chérie,
we will have a long visit,
n’est-ce pas?”

“Indeed we shall,” Nicole reassured her.

“My aunt beckons…”

“Allow me to escort you, Mademoiselle Lumière,”
Danforth said as he rose to take her arm and she smiled up at him as they moved away.

Placing the last branch of ferns above the mantle and stepping back, Nicole observed her handiwork. “Mmm, what do you think,
Jacques?”

“Very nice, madame.”

“Do you think the Marquis will approve?”

“Mais oui,
in the old days
Monseiur le Marquis
and his family celebrated the
Noël
in great style.”

“You have been with him a very long time?”

“Oui,
when he was separated from his family all those years ago, I was the only one left.”

“What happened, Jacques?”

“Monsieur le Marquis
and his family planned an escape, but the Marquis was taken ill and could not travel, so he ordered the family to go ahead
without him. Unfortunately they were taken captive by the citizens of the tribunal. In the confusion the Marquis did not discover
what had happened to his family until we reached England. Then it was too late.” Jacques shook his head.

“I see,” Nicole said quietly. “We must make this a happy time for him.”

As they sat before the fire later that evening, the Marquis remarked, “I thought that young scalawag was going to join us
for midnight Mass.”

“I am sure he will be here presently. I do not know what is keeping him.”

“Probably decided he could not take the religious service. Protestants are all alike,” he grumbled.

“Uncle, perhaps you forget I fall into that category myself.”

“Your mother was Catholic.”

“Yes, but my father was a Protestant.”

“You cannot help it if you had strange parents.”

Nicole laughed, “I suppose that is one way of looking at it.”

“Now, do not take offense at an old man,
enfant.”

“I love you too much to do that, Uncle Maurice.” Impulsively she kissed him on the cheek. “I could not take offense at you.”

Suddenly there was a loud crash outside the drawing room, and Perry exclaimed, “Damn, I told you to hold it, Jacques!”

“But, my lord, I could not do both,” Jacques complained.

“What is it? What is it?” stormed the Marquis as he and Nicole rushed to the entrance. “A forest! He has brought a forest
into my home! knew it! I knew it would happen! He has finally lost his last scrap of sanity.”

“I lugged this… this monstrous log all the way from the Left Bank and this is the thanks I get… recriminations!” Perry retorted.

“Oh, Perry,” Nicole cried happily and ran to him. “You did not forget the Yule log.”

“And the vendor told me it was big enough to last until New Year’s Day.”

“What?” exclaimed the Marquis.

“Well, isn’t it one of your Frenchy customs?”

“Frenchy!” sputtered the Marquis.
“Sacré Bleu!”

“He did not mean it, Uncle,” Nicole interceded coming between them. “Besides, Perry is right. In Provence it is the custom.”

“This is not Provence,” the Marquis exploded.

“But, Uncle, Perry has gone through all this trouble just to please us and I think it was a lovely gesture. Thank you.” She
kissed Perry’s cheek.
“Joyeux Noël,
Perry.”

“Happy Christmas, Nicole,” he said kissing her on the lips lightly.

The Marquis, observing the glow in Nicole’s eyes, softened.
“Very well, come along, boy, help Jacques and me get this thing into the fireplace so that we can go to church.”

On Christmas Day Nicole and the Marquis were joined by friends for dinner. Perry, Danforth, Geneviève and her Aunt Aline,
whom Nicole had invited, and Madame Che-nier, an old friend of the Marquis’s from the days before the Revolution, gathered
in the drawing room where the Yule log blazed invitingly.

Before dinner the Marquis closeted himself with Danforth in an effort to gain some information concerning the Viscount. Danforth
was the one who had informed the Marquis of his nephew’s liaison with Tessa Von Hoffman following the honeymoon debacle. Although
Danforth was unable to furnish the old man with further information, he agreed to keep him abreast of the news.

After a magnificent dinner which included both the French and English Christmas specialties of roast duck, peacock Strasbourg,
mince pie and two puddings—black pudding and English plum pudding, Nicole and Geneviève entertained the others by playing
the piano and singing.

Toward evening Perry disappeared for some three-quarters of an hour, and when he returned with Jacques, he wheeled in a large
bowl of wassail punch containing hot ale, spices and toasted apples. After one glass of the strong herb punch, the merriment
of the company increased. The Marquis and Madame Chenier began reminiscing about the good times at the court of Versailles.
Their infectious laughter over youthful follies grew boisterous, and Perry plied them with more punch and eager questions.
Gales of laughter erupted, and in the warmth and glow of the cozy room all abandoned their stiffness and formality.

As the night wore on, Gordon Danforth and Geneviève Lumière were observed to leave the group, and their absorption in one
another was noted by more than one interested party.

“Your voice is enchanting, mademoiselle,” Gordon was saying to her.

“Monsieur Danforth, you try to flatter me, I think.” Geneviève dimpled prettily.

“No, I am in earnest.”

“Then you are kindness itself, for…”

“I assure you I am not being kind, only truthful.”

Touched by his sincerity, Geneviève gazed wonderingly into his eyes and Gordon caught his breath at the intensity of feeling
this winsome creature aroused in him.

Breaking the awkward silence that stretched between them Geneviève asked, “You have enjoyed the
Noël?”

“Immensely, for it gave me the opportunity to see you again.”

“Monsieur.”
She blushed.

“I say, you two,” Perry broke in on them. “Come and join Nicole and me in a game of whist, will you?”

“Only if you insist,” Gordon replied.

“Well, if that don’t beat all,” Perry cried. “What about you, mademoiselle?”

Geneviève laughed gaily at Perry’s chagrin. “But of course, we will join you. Will we not, Monsieur Danforth?”

“Only if I may be your partner?”

“Most certainly,” she agreed taking his proffered arm.

Later when Danforth escorted the Lumières home, no one was particularly surprised and Nicole wondered if Gordon and Geneviève
could be attracted to one another. Unusually intellectual for a girl, Geneviève would be drawn to a quiet, studious man such
as Gordon Danforth. As for him, he would find Geneviève not only lovely but
intelligent and sensitive. They would suit temperamentally very well. Yet it would not do… Geneviève’s background and his.
Perry had told Nicole that Gordon Danforth was a younger son with little money, and Geneviève was penniless. She paused in
her reflections. Was it possible that Danforth was after some information about the new Viscountess through her friend, Geneviève?
No! She would not let such suspicions spoil an almost perfect day. If only Valentin had been here to share the festivities.

And what was her husband doing at this moment? Was he alone in Vienna? Or was he spending his time with friends? And what
friends? Another woman? She must not think it! She would force her thoughts to other things. But had Valentin spared her one
thought since that fateful night?

In point of fact, Valentin was standing at a pair of opened balcony doors and looking out across the boulevard toward the
Gothic spires of St. Stephen’s Cathedral.

“Come back to us, my lord,” came the beckoning cry of one damsel from the party inside. Not heeding her, he stepped out onto
the balcony and listened to the solemn sound of the church bells striking twelve. Christmas was over. A feeling of overwhelming
loneliness crept over him as he fingered the small box in his pocket. He had not sent it after all. Just as he had not sent
the notes and letters he had written since his arrival in Vienna. They had met the same fate as the small jewel box in his
hand. All to naught.

“Ardsmore, we are all going on to Gustav’s. Are you coming?” a fellow officer asked.

“But, of course, he is coming,” a low sultry voice said beside him. “There will be dancing, singing, games, and…” she looked
up at him with dark liquid eyes. “And
… who knows what else, eh?” She laughed seductively and wound her arm through his.

For a time he stared at her. He did not feel the least desire to join them. How could one woman do this to him? It was ridiculous
of Nicole—just because he muttered a woman’s name in his sleep. But it was more than that. He should never have forced Nicole
to yield to him and then walked out on her. What rotten behavior! If only he had held his temper and soothed her hurt pride.
He sighed and dragged on his cigar. Then looking more intently at the girl beside him, he forced a wry smile, “Hell, why not?
The‘what else’ may prove interesting.” Sauntering into the room with the woman he thought, tonight I will have a good time
and be damned to Nicole!