Sweet Bravado (14 page)

At the request of the Marquis de Crécy, Madame Lucille Chenier became the new Viscountess’ companion and preceptress into
the ways of the Parisian
ton.
Quick to grasp the sketchy facts placed before her about her charge, Lucille took on her duties enthusiastically. A number
of strictures were imparted to the Viscountess about the
beau monde.
The solecism she must avoid at all costs was to admit that there was a breach between her and the Viscount. This was of utmost
importance. In no way was she to provide the scandal mongers with food for gossip.

On the night of the Wexfords’ ball, Nicole’s first appearance in a society function since becoming the Viscountess Ardsmore,
Madame Chenier presented her to the Marquis.

“Well, Maurice,
mon ami,
what do you think of your niece’s appearance?”

The Marquis squinted at the vision in front of him. Nicole wore a gown of cream-colored satin overlaid with sheer gold netting
and the Ardsmore diamonds at her throat.
“Magnifique,
child, they shall have little time to speculate on your marriage when they are confronted with your loveliness. If I were
younger myself, I would fall under your spell.”

“Uncle, you shall make me blush.”

“Nothing but the truth,
chérie.
My nephew must have taken leave of his senses…”

A warning look from Madame Chenier stopped him as she covered smoothly, “Young couples often have their differences,
n’est-ce pas?
Tonight as I have already instructed Nicole, she is to gloss over the breach so that a satisfactory image can be maintained.
And if Lady Elea-nore instructed the Viscount as you recommended in your letter, we should contrive to squelch the gossip
nicely.”

“It makes my head spin.”

“No, Nicole, not yet. Perhaps by the end of the evening we can permit that, but now we must go…”

“To meet the enemy!” concluded the Marquis, and they escorted the Viscountess to the carriage.

Flanked by Madame Chenier and the Marquis de Crécy, Nicole entered through the wide double doors into the Wexfords’ ballroom.
Her first impression was of a splendid, gold-tinted room filled with swirling dancers in colorful gowns and uniforms. As they
advanced farther into the room, Madame Chenier and the Marquis began to greet various acquaintances, some of whom Nicole remembered
from her wedding day. Nicole was subjected to undisguised scrutiny as introductions were pressed upon her, and her attention
was drawn from one claimant to another.

A waltz was struck up by the orchestra, and Gordon
Danforth, emerging from the sea of unfamiliar faces, came forth to claim her hand. She gratefully accepted his arm and proceeded
to the dance floor where they circled the ballroom in companionable silence until Danforth spoke.

“I hope I find you well, Lady Ardsmore.”

“I am very well, thank you.” Why, she wondered, could she not relax with this man?

“You are in extremely good looks this evening, and if I am any judge of society, you will be taken up and become all the rage.”

“My dear sir, you will turn my head with such flattery.”

“It is merely the truth as I see it. The Viscount will be proud to hear of your success.”

The mention of Valentin startled Nicole. “You are in contact with my… my husband?”

“On occasion. Val and I are very close to one another.”

His words were a thorn stinging her pride and stirring her discontent.

“Your friendship is one of long standing, is it not?”

“Indeed it is. We are like brothers.”

“How charming,” Nicole could not avoid a sneer creeping into her voice.

“Do I detect a note of disapproval?” Danforth seemed surprised.

“What is there to disapprove of in the loyalty of friendship?”

“It is a loyalty I willingly extend to you. I seek to be no less a friend to you, my dear Viscountess.”

“Come now, sir. Surely you are not serious.” Nicole’s exasperation could no longer be concealed.

Danforth stiffened. “I am afraid I do not understand.”

“As the Viscount’s closest personal friend you must be well aware of the situation between my… husband and me.”

“Yes, I am.” He did not prevaricate.

“Well then?”

“I repeat, my lady, I would deem it a pleasure if I may ever be of any service to you,” he stated formally.

Nicole bit her lip and mumbled a thank you. Actually she wanted to be on better terms with Gordon Danforth. There was no need
to antagonize him. He was a link with Valentin, and too, she wanted to ask him about Geneviève Lumière. She was curious to
know if an attachment were growing between them.

The music stopped, and she was immediately surrounded by supplicants for her hand for the next dance. She accepted a young
officer in a Cossack uniform and was led to the dance floor.

“Well, Danforth,” the Marquis pounced as Danforth walked toward him. “Any word from that damnable nephew of mine?”

“I have not heard from him of late, my lord. Besides I do not believe this is the time or the place to discuss the matter.”
Danforth looked over his shoulder at several interested faces, including that of Constance Burton whose chief contribution
to society was her talent for scandal mongering. Danforth tried to signal the Marquis of her presence, but it was useless.
The old man plowed on.

“What do you think he intends to do about this abominable situation?”

“Please, sir, if we must discuss it, I believe the room to our right is available.”

The Marquis leaned on the arm of Danforth, who escorted him to a small salon off the ballroom.

“Well?” Maurice retorted once inside.

“There is little I can tell you that you do not already know. As I told you, I have received one letter from Valon
matters of duty. He made no reference to the Viscountess.”

“I wonder if the Von Hoffman woman is with him.”

“No, she is still in Paris. As a matter of fact she was seen in the company of Lord Crawley just last night.”

“That cur! This whole situation will not do! It just will not do! The Harcourts! The whole pack of‘em are forever getting
themselves in trouble, including that meddlesome old fool, Sophie Harcourt. She could not mind her own business—dragging that
girl back into the family. Sheer folly! Sheer folly! When you write that nephew of mine, tell him I have a few words to pass
on to him.”

“I will, my lord.”

Danforth was happy to escape from the quarrelsome old man who had decided to remain in the quiet of the small salon instead
of rejoining the festivities. Danforth scowled slightly when he emerged from the room and noticed Constance Burton moving
away from the door. How long had she been there? He hastened to find Nicole with Madame Chenier and joined their party just
as Perry appeared.

“Ah, Gordon,” Perry Harcourt grinned at him. “I would say my sister-in-law has made a hit. Devilish pretty girl, isn’t she?
Don’t see why Val…” Danforth grasped his shoulder.

“One of these days, boy, you are going to wag your tongue once too often.”

“All I said was…” The clamp tightened on his shoulder, and Perry caught the warning glance in Danforth’s eyes. “Oh, I see.”
Perry noticed Nicole’s frozen stare and blushed a fiery red.

Another partner presented himself to Nicole, and she swept away on his arm. Madame Chenier and Danforth chatted quietly as
they watched Nicole’s graceful form
glide smoothly around the ballroom floor. Seeing no further opportunity to speak with the Viscountess, Danforth took himself
to one of the card rooms.

“Well, Madame Chenier,” it was Lady Wexford approaching. “Your charge is becoming the center of attention.”

“Oui,
so it seems. How lovely to be young and acclaimed.”

“But think of all the problems of the young. All that emotional distress over their romantic involvements and such…” Her meaning
implicit, Lady Wexford’s voice trailed off.

So the confrontation was about to begin, thought Madame Chenier as she remarked, “Then it is best they are left in care of
the young who can handle them. Ah, here is my charge. Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?”

“Immensely, Madame Chenier,” Nicole replied.

“Bien.
Lady Wexford was just remarking on your apparent success. You must be sure to report the news of your gracious reception
to the Viscount in the very next letter you write to him. I am sure it would gratify him to know of your triumph.”

“Indeed yes, madame,” Nicole picked up her cue without a flutter and joined ranks with Madame Chenier in the developing skirmish.
“It is just as my husband assured me before he returned to his duty.”

“And what was that,
ma chère?”

“Only that I would be well looked after in his absence by his family’s friends and acquaintances.”

Lady Wexford was hard put to conceal her annoyance at this smug exchange until Constance Burton joined their group and lent
her support to the outflanked Wexford detachment.

“Lady Wexford, I was hoping to see Tessa Von Hoffman
here this evening,” Constance Burtoti murmured ingratiatingly.

“I am not certain. I believe she has been called out of town.”

“Oh, no, I heard young Gordon Danforth mention that she did not leave Paris after all. You have not had the pleasure of meeting
her have you, Lady Ardsmore?” Lady Burton smiled slyly.

“And I hope she never will,” injected Madame Chenier before Nicole could reply. “That woman is becoming the talk of the
ton
with her exaggerated exploits. If she is not careful, she will soon find herself disbarred from polite society. Nicole, I
see your Uncle Maurice beckoning to us. If you will excuse us.” Madame Chenier steered Nicole away from the other women. “Pay
Constance no heed. She has been spiteful ever since your mama-in-law snubbed her at Almack’s a year ago. As for the Wex-ford’s,
they numbered themselves among Cecily Fairfax’s friends,” Madame Chenier explained.

“I cannot endure much more of these polite faces masking spite and malice,” Nicole complained.

“Everyone wears a mask or two and you must not forget it,
ma chère.
Perhaps you, too, wear one, eh?” Before Nicole could reply, Madame Chenier addressed the Marquis, “Have you come to take
us to supper?”

“I would be honored, ladies. I have already ordered Peregrine to secure a table for us.”

It was also Perry who filled their platters and then urged Nicole to try some of the rarer delicacies which adorned her plate.
“Try this canapé. It is a creation of the Wexfords’ chef, and it is quite superb.”

Nicole nibbled lightly at the stuffed oyster and declared it delicious.

“I consider myself an expert on fine food,” Perry boasted.

“In my day I, too, was a connoisseur,” stated the Marquis.

“You, Uncle!” Perry grinned mischievously.

“Do not laugh, my lad. Ask Madame Chenier if I were not.”

“It is true, Perry,” Madame Chenier verified. “In his younger days your uncle gave dinner parties that were unsurpassed.”

“I cannot believe it, Uncle.”

“You best had, my boy. Just because I do not entertain very much any more does not mean that I never did.”

“Egad, Uncle Maurice, don’t break a blood vessel. I believe you.”

“Of course he does, Uncle Maurice,” Nicole added. “How could he forget that wonderful weekend we spent with you at your chateau?”
Both Nicole and Perry were relieved to have Gordon Danforth join them at that moment and divert the conversation.

When they returned to an almost deserted ballroom, Perry was hailed by a young officer and his wife who were coming off the
dance floor; accordingly Nicole was introduced to the Bramwells.

“We have already met,” smiled Helen Bramwell, “at your wedding. But how could you be expected to remember so many new faces?
I could not remember a thing about my wedding reception, could I, Harry?”

“No, my pet, but the champagne had something to do with that, I suspect,” her indulgent spouse teased.

“Horrid boy,” she giggled.

“Come let us have a glass now,” Harry Bramwell suggested.

“Great idea! What shall we toast?” Perry agreed enthusiastically.

“To a continuing peace. I desire no wars to interrupt our honeymoon.”

“Do not even suggest it, Harry. It upsets me terribly to think of you in battle. I do wish you would resign your commission.”

“I’ll wager Lady Ardsmore has not made such a request of the Viscount.”

Helen Bramwell looked at Nicole searchingly and cried, “And I’ll wager Lady Ardsmore wishes the Viscount were here right now
instead of being away on duty.”

Several onlookers joined them, eagerly waiting for Nicole’s reply.

“Well I… I would not want to see the Viscount shirk his responsibility. He has an obligation to the Duke of Wellington.”

“I cannot be so noble,” Helen sighed. “I can only think of Harry and me, and what it would do to us if we were separated.”

“Not all marriages are love matches, however,” a new voice commented from among the viewers. Nicole swung around to face the
woman who had just spoken those malicious words. She was stunned by the sight of Tessa Von Hoffman.

“Besides, men are ever choosing duty over their wives. It is the lot of we poor females to wait and watch, is it not?”

Nicole merely stared coldly. She would not be drawn into a hypocritical pretense of courtesy in the face of such shameless
behavior. Let Tessa get herself out of it if she could.

Madame Von Hoffman looked about her seeking support from the onlookers who were growing uncomfortable as Nicole continued
to stare. Trying to recover the situation, Tessa extended her hand, “I do not believe we have been introduced. I am…”

“I know who you are! And we have nothing to say to one another!” Nicole cut her off, and whirling on her heel
stalked out of the ballroom to the suppressed gasps of those present. A frigid silence descended on the group; no one was
quite sure what to say to cover the embarrassing cut Nicole had delivered Tessa Von Hoffman. It was a
faux pas
of major proportions and the shock waves were felt all the way to Vienna.