Tarnished Angel (52 page)

    "Camille,
entrez
,
s'il
vous
pl?it
. Do not stand so hesitantly. You are in the company of friends."

    Her apprehension under control, Camille moved smilingly to the Count's bidding and closed the door behind her. She was rewarded when Pierre immediately stepped toward her and raised her hand to his lips. Marie's instinctive stiffening registered within Camille's mind, even as her own smile curved with true affection for the man who looked so warmly into her eyes. But   there was more than warmth in Pierre's eyes. What was it? Caution? Concern?

    Camille's reply was characteristically candid. "I apologize for my hesitancy, Pierre. I thought you had summoned me about a personal matter. Marie's presence startled me. Is something wrong?"

    Pierre's smile was not untouched by genuine amusement. "Camille,
ma
chérie
,
you do not waste words on trivialities."

    "Only when trivialities are part of the game, Pierre."

    "And, of course, you play the game so very well…"

    At a short sound of impatience from behind him, Pierre turned toward Marie, and his smile faded. He did not like this situation any more than he liked Marie's impatience. Camille's apprehension mounted. The matter to be discussed was obviously very serious, for Pierre would not easily allow Marie to push into this kind of confrontation.

    Pierre turned back toward Camille, his displeasure efficiently erased from his face as he addressed her directly. "It is easy to see that you are apprehensive, Camille, and I do not wish to extend your discomfort. Come, sit beside me, and we will talk, will we not, Marie?"

    As he led Camille to the small settee, Pierre directed Marie to a chair. When both were comfortably seated, he took a paper from his desk, then sat beside Camille.

    "Camille, first, I wish to make it clear to you that I would never allow anyone to hurt the women under my protection in any way. But,
ma favorite,
you do realize my protection extends with a much deeper affection to you."

    Le Comte's gaze was intent on hers, and Camille felt the true depth of his regard register sharply within her. It brought the glitter of tears to her eyes, and she blinked them back with practiced firmness.

    "
Merci,
Pierre."

    "I do not wish your gratitude,
ma
chérie
,
merely your complete honesty in the matter we are about to discuss."

    "I am always honest with you, Pierre. You have been too good to me to deserve any less."

    Marie's impatient fidgeting made Pierre turn sharply toward her. "If this conversation moves too slowly for you, Marie, you may leave at any time. I will be only too happy to inform you of any decisions made."

    Marie's pale face twitched with discomfort. "No, I will remain."

    Le Comte murmured, "I suspected you would," as he turned back to Camille. He watched her face carefully as he handed her the paper. "This arrived at our door this morning, Camille. I do not think it needs explanation."

    Realizing her hands were trembling, Camille paused, her unfamiliarity with written English causing her difficulty as she sought to understand the contents of the formal document. After long moments, she raised her eyes to Pierre's for confirmation.

    "It is a demand, a petition, is it not, correct, Pierre? It seeks to have me barred from the city because of my disturbing influence on family life in Tombstone. It states that I have sought to better myself by illegal means and at the expense of others, and that I am an undesirable and a detriment to the community."

    "What shall we do about this petition?" Marie asked, a satisfied smile playing around her lips. "The signatures on that document are those of very prominent people in Tombstone, people of much influence, people who could force the closing of this establishment."

    "Marie!
Cela
suffit
!
That is enough! It is I who will conduct this inquiry this morning, not you!"

    The flaming color that flooded Marie's face brought regret surging to life within Camille. This would not do. She had never wished to have Marie as an enemy, and such an exchange would only cause Marie to hate her more strongly than before. She did not wish to be hated, not by anyone.

    Covering Pierre's hand with her own, Camille slanted him a smile. "Pierre, Marie has good reason to be disturbed. This petition is dangerous to the future of the establishment into which she has poured considerable effort. It is easy to see where the problem lies. The signatures are those of women… the wives of many of my most faithful clients. It is obvious that they do not like having their husband's activities outside the home revealed for the world to see."

    "Camille,
ma petite,
you know as well as I that these men came here seeking you; you did not solicit their favors. They return here to you because you give to them that which has been denied them at home. Aside from the physical aspect of your association with them, you speak to them of their intimate     problems, console them when they are distressed, do you not,
ma
chérie
?

    "So we can put aside the implication that the blame rests with you. You satisfy a need within these men, and if they did not come to you, they would find someone else. You have performed a service and have been paid accordingly. This is solely a business matter. We have just to decide who is behind this vendetta against you and how we are to handle such an attack."

    "Handle…?"

    
"
Oui
."
Le Comte's narrow mustache twitched with anger. "We will fight this."

    Pierre's unexpected words made Camille feel intensely worried. If she fought to defend herself, there would be trouble and embarrassment for her and for those men who had sought her out. Charles… would he be drawn into this conflict? Would he suffer humiliation because of her? The thought was more than she could bear.

    Camille stood up. "No, I have no heart to fight, Pierre." Tears again filling her eyes, Camille sought to avoid Le Comte's concerned gaze as he drew himself to his feet beside her.

    "Camille, this is unlike you."

    "You are right, Pierre." Struggling to overcome her emotion, Camille tossed her brilliant curls and shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps the time has come for me to go home, Pierre. I have been here a long time, perhaps too long. It was only the favor and affection of prominent individuals that held me here. It appears that affection has been rescinded. I am no longer wanted, Pierre. And I am no longer happy."

    Camille sensed the smile that turned up Marie's lips before she actually saw it. Well, at least someone was happy over this sorry affair. Most assuredly it was not she. She turned to Pierre's disturbed expression.

    "Camille, do you want me to find out who initiated this attack?"

    "No, it is of little importance."

    "And you wish to return to France?"

    Camille's smile was pathetically thin. "It appears there is little reason for me to remain here."

    A new light appeared in Pierre's gaze, and his voice dropped a notch to intimacy. "I return to Paris at the end of the month. I was to take Simone and two of the other girls, but Simone's   tenure here may be extended. It will matter little to her if you go in her stead. I confess, Camille, I would regret having to leave you again."

    Marie's movement caused Pierre to turn toward her with irritation. "Marie, you need be impatient no longer. The matter is settled. Repercussions from the petition will not fall on this house. Camille is leaving, at her own request." Pausing, Pierre fixed his gaze on Marie even more firmly than before. "That is understood, is it
notat
her own request? I will not have it known any other way.
Comprendez-vous
?
"

    Marie nodded stiffly, her lips barely parting in her response.
"
Oui
."

    Le Comte paused again, allowing the full import of his gaze to register in Marie's mind as he continued in a softer, more intense tone. "And I will not suffer talk about this matter in my house."

    Marie raised her chin. "I understand."

    Pierre's smile was cold.

    "We have nothing more to discuss, Marie."

    Realizing she had been dismissed, Marie rose to her feet. Her short glance in Camille's direction was met with Pierre's curt response.

    "
Au
revoir
,
Marie."

    Her slender nostrils dilating with suppressed anger, Marie left the office without another word.

    Camille followed her silent exit with a frown, only to feel Pierre's hand on her chin, turning her back to meet his gaze.

    "Do not waste your sympathy on that one, Camille. Marie is a hard woman who would spare you little compassion in return. And I suspect she is not guiltless in this affair."

    Camille shook her head, confused. "I do not understand."

    "It is strange, is it not, that the wives of all your most faithful and wealthy clients signed that petition? Surely no casual observer would have known who your clients were."

    "Pierre, Marie does not like me, but"

    "She fears you, Camille. She is well aware of my affection for you, and she sees your popularity as an added threat. The petition was aimed at eliminating that threat, and now that you are returning to Paris, she will fear you no longer. If it was not your wish, I would not allow her this triumph, no matter how efficiently she tends to the business matters of this house."

    Camille pressed her hand over Pierre's lips. She shook her    head. "No more. You cannot be sure it is Marie who is at the bottom of this persecution, and in truth, it does not matter. I am leaving, Pierre, and all of this will soon be in the past."

    Pierre kissed her fingers, then held her hand tightly, searching Camille's eyes as if looking for a deeper meaning.

    "You are certain you wish to leave, Camille?"

    "As certain as, I will ever be."

    Unexpectedly, Pierre leaned forward to touch his lips lightly to hers, and Camille felt the love for her this man suppressed. With the openness so much a part of her character, Camille whispered with a responsive emotion of her own, "Pierre, I do not wish to cause you to do anything you will one day regret."

    Halting her words with another light kiss, Pierre turned Camille toward the doorway. He urged her forward, his tone purposefully light.

    "Then we will see, will we not, Camille? We will see what the future and the voyage home bring to us. We have time… much time."

    Grateful beyond words for his generosity, his thoughtfulness, Camille slipped through the doorway. She knew there was no response she could give, except to say, yes, she would see.

    Lost in thought, Camille made her way to her room and went toward the window. She stared at her reflection in the
glassher
tall body with it's abundant proportions, the rowdy color of her hair, her unremarkable features. There was no life in her face in the absence of the smile that made her beautiful. She wondered if she would ever be beautiful again.

    She stood and stared down at the street as it pulsed with life. She would miss this place and the desert surrounding it. Its sun, its heat, the raw energy that streamed through its streets, its contrast to the small village where she was born…

    A familiar figure turned the corner of Fourth onto Allen, and Camille's heart skipped a beat. There was no mistaking that broad-shouldered physique, that self-possessed walk. Charles. He was striding in her direction, and she indulged herself in the brief hope that he was coming to see her. Her heart began to race, and she raised a shaking hand to her hair.

    No! She was being a fool. Charles would turn into one of the offices, one of the stores, a restaurant. Camille touched the modest, lace-trimmed neckline of her pale blue gown. Why did she torment herself that she was not looking her best today? Charles would not see her. He was not coming here.

   But he did not pause in his approach. He was crossing the intersection of Allen and Fifth, and coming closer. He was striding past the Palace Lodging House, Hudson's Drugstore, the hardware store, Hartman's Jewelry, the tailor shop. Camille caught her breath as Charles hesitated in front of the Bird Cage Theater. No! He would not go in there!

    Camille released the breath she had been holding. Charles had stopped in front of the theater in response to a summons from a friend to exchange a few words. The exchange was brief. He was continuing on.

    He crossed the intersection of Allen and Sixth and headed directly toward the front door of the house in which she stood. She drew back from the window, from the possibility of catching Charles's eye, and waited in breathless silence.

    She heard the front door open and close. She waited for a summons, but heard instead a heavy familiar step on the stairs and a rapid approach to her door, followed by a knock.

    Her heart was pounding so furiously that she was unable to respond. She took an involuntary step backward, coming up against the night table. She could not answer, for if it was not Charles…