The Heroic Baron (19 page)

To Alain she said, “I was just telling the ladies how
the new marble marker for Alicia’s grave has arrived
at last. You know how much time we spent finding the
perfect sculptor and the right marble design. I know
you’ll appreciate the finished product. I hope you’ll
stop by the cemetery in Kent and see it. We sent all the
way to Italy for the workmanship and the Carrera
marble.”

The woman affected some tears and groped dramatically for a handkerchief. “Oh my, I still get so overwrought about it. Just thinking about the tragedy still
waters me up. If only you had been there that day, dear
Wickham. I know you would have stopped the carriage
in time.” She waved her handkerchief. “Here I am acting like a watering pot in front of your friend. After
such a display, Wickham, I am afraid you must introduce us.”

“Lady Halverston, I would like to present Mademoiselle Cecile,” Alain offered, unmoved by the display of
tears. If anything, the display had prompted his disdain
instead of his sympathy.

“The actress who’s been performing at the Royal
Opera House? How lovely for you to find someone to
pass the time with, Wickham.”

“The violinist,” Cecile ground out with the barest civility. Alain gave her arm a gentle squeeze, counseling
restraint. He was fully aware of what the woman implied and how she insulted Cecile with her comments.
But it was not Cecile’s place to respond. It was his, and
he would.

“What was that? Violinist? Yes of course, if you pre fer.” The woman said airily, clearly suggesting she
found the terms one and the same when it came to any
woman performing in any manner at the opera house.

“Lady Halverston, I believe I failed to mention earlier that Cecile is my fiancee. We intend to marry in
Hythe as soon as possible. I have a special license from
the archbishop himself, issued just this morning.” Alain
was all smiles and charm as he delivered his news.

Lady Halverston spluttered the requisite good
wishes and Alain let her recover her dignity as best she
could. He nodded his farewell and turned Cecile back
to the picnic blanket.

But the spring magic of the picnic was lost. Cecile
was quiet, the earlier joy gone from her face. Alain
knew she was hurting from the woman’s comments.

“I am sorry. She is a difficult woman.” Alain apologized at once.

“She’s a mother without her child. Her grief must be
very great,” Cecile offered quietly, folding a cloth napkin around the remainder of the loaf.

“It’s true she doted on Alicia. I fear she wishes to
chain me to those memories as well. Every time we
meet, there is always some indelicate reference to the
tragedy our families shared,” Alain said in equal quietness. “I was fond of Alicia, but it took meeting you for
me to realize I didn’t love her, not the way I imagined I
would love a wife. It is you I want, you I can imagine
being with.”

“Alain, are you sure? Can these people accept that
the Baron Wickham married a poor French girl of insignificant origins?”

Alain sensed the significance of her doubt. He wanted to shake her and tell her the doubt was utter
silliness, but he could see that it was all seriousness to
her. He must handle this gently or risk losing her out of
some sense of self sacrifice that prompted her to protect him.

“I can’t believe the determined French girl I met in
Paris would let such a minor thing as other people’s
opinions get in the way of what her heart wants. Your
heart wants me. It is not arrogant to say it. It is true. You
cannot tell me the passion in our kisses is that of an idle
affair or that we could be happy apart. These people’s
opinions cannot be our undoing.” He pressed.

“Have you considered that I love you too much to
watch you suffer? There would be no joy in being your
wife knowing that I brought you the scorn of your
friends,” Cecile said softly.

“Then love me a little less. I do not want another
woman sacrificing herself for my benefit.”

“What do you mean?” Cecile bristled and Alain
wished he could retract the sharp words.

“Walk with me and I will tell you.” There was a duck
pond not far and they set out in that direction.

“My sister, Isabella, whom I have mentioned to you
before, married a man-her first husband-in order to
save the family title for me,” Alain began as they
walked. “She hardly knew him. He was in his fifties.
She was nineteen. He was a rich marquess and he fancied her. My father was a good man but he had no head
for business. He made some investments that overextended our funds, to put it simply. Isabella had a decent
marriage with him but it was not the marriage she
wanted.” Alain explained. “I knew why she did it. It was for me, so that I’d have something other than debts
and a meaningless title to inherit. I would have had to
have found an heiress or an occupation if it hadn’t been
for her.”

“Between your heroics and my sister’s sacrifice, the
two of you risk reducing me to feeling quite useless”
Alain sighed. He bent over to pick up small pebbles and
toss them into the duck pond.

Cecile rewarded him with a half smile. “That explains why you feel so responsible for everyone. I think
you’re trying to prove yourself without understanding
you already have. Don’t you see? It is because you’re so
worthy that people want to sacrifice for you. You
shouldn’t view it as a curse or a ghost to battle”

“Nonetheless, I love you Cecile, and I can’t settle for
the martyrdom of giving our love up simply because
there might be hardships.”

Cecile nodded. “That woman today was overwrought,
but she spoke a truth we both must face. I’ll never be one
of them. Plenty of them will resent me for it.”

Alain winked reassuringly. “But not me, Cecile. Not
me” He sealed his promise with a kiss that spoke the
depth of his devotion. Cecile was breathless when they
parted.

“Is it true you have a special license?” Cecile asked,
the twinkle returning to her sherry eyes.

“Let us leave for Hythe in the morning so I can prove
it to you” Alain answered. “I cannot wait longer than I
must to have you as my wife in all ways”

The journey to Hythe took a frustrating four days by
carriage, stopping at inns and doing everything by the book to appease the watchful eye of Mrs. Brown, who
took her role as secretary and chaperone to Cecile more
seriously than Alain would have liked.

But as the village drew near on the fourth day, excitement mounted in him, mixed with anxiety.

Had anyone asked him, Alain would have classified
himself as a confident man who was well aware of his
charms and habits. Today his confidence was strangely
lacking. What would Cecile think of the sleepy little
town? True, it wasn’t so sleepy anymore since the resort had been built. But it wasn’t London or Paris, or
even Brighton. Perhaps he had exaggerated Hythe’s
quality, built up her expectations too much. Would the
Panchette’s bakery and tea room appeal to her? It was a
little place, nothing at all like Rules and the fine restaurants of London. Would The Refuge meet her expectations? It was a Tudor-style manor with decidedly male
and rustic airs about it.

He’d once been certain the young girl he’d courted
in Paris would have loved Hythe. But the sophisticated, self-made woman who traveled around Europe
entertaining in the homes of the elite might find his
home lacking, his town boring. What could possibly
appeal to her about the middle-class resort he’d established?

They approached the hill overlooking the seaside
town, and Alain had the carriage pull off the road.
“We’re nearly there, Cecile. Come and see Hythe from
the cliff. It’s my favorite vantage point.” He handed her
down from the carriage, pride and nerves mingling unpleasantly in his belly.

Cecile smiled at him softly, and he wondered if she divined the source of his apprehension. “I will love it
because it is yours, Alain.” She assured him.

At the cliff edge she gasped in delight. “Oh Alain, it
is all you told me and more. She pointed with a hand.
“Is that the hotel? The one where Etienne works?”

“Yes.” Alain beamed, proud that she’d spotted the
building he’d so diligently poured his heart into. He
stood behind her, an arm about her waist, and directed
her gaze with his free arm. “There’s the Panchette’s tea
house, two buildings down from the hotel on the right.”

Cecile sighed and leaned against him. “It is as I
dreamed it would be”

Alain felt the tension seep from him and they stood
there in silence, letting the blue sky and the spring
weather work their magic. Hythe gleamed jewel-like
below them and the Channel sparkled beyond the rim
of the town. The feeling of homecoming coursed
through his veins. With his resort a success and Cecile
in his arms, he was complete-not again but perhaps
for the first time ever.

Behind them, Mrs. Brown coughed discreetly to indicate the need to move on. Cecile turned in the arc of
Alain’s arms, smiling up at him and twining her hands
about his neck. “We’ve seen your town, now take me to
your home, mon Cheri”

The Refuge was not far and they were there within
minutes, Cecile’s head poking out of the carriage in her
eagerness to see it. Alain laughed at her obvious impatience but did nothing to pull her back inside, letting
her enjoy the excitement. He loved that everything was
fresh and new when seen through Cecile’s sherry eyes.

The carriage turned onto the parkland drive leading
to The Refuge and the anticipation of being at journey’s
end seized him as well. The rambling Tudor-styled
structure came into view. Cecile popped her head back
into the carriage, her eyes wide.

“Alain, it’s huge! From your descriptions, I imagined
it was a hunting lodge, maybe a five-room cottage,
which would have been big enough for me.” She was
nearly breathless with her discovery.

“It is small compared to the estate in the Lake District.” Alain said easily. Their conveyance rocked to a
halt in the half-circle drive and Alain let her take in the
Tudor estate for several moments before ushering her
indoors.

Inside, Harker had the modest staff waiting in a neat
line to greet them but Cecile was more entranced with
the entry. So enrapt with the hall, she hardly noticed
them. She turned around in a slow, complete circle in
the entry, gazing at the medieval-styled wooden rafters
and the long wall hung with an authentic tapestry that
added to the older feel of the hall. A simple, high narrow table of dark wood was positioned beneath the tapestry just as it might have been in a lord’s grand hall
centuries ago.

“My lord, welcome home.” Harker came forward,
clearing his throat to get Cecile’s attention.

Alain watched her. Would she blush at her indiscretion or would she carry off the behavior with aplomb.

Cecile stopped her investigation of the foyer and
straightened, taking in the discreet staff, seeing them
for perhaps the first time, Alain realized. “The hall is overwhelming.” She said without apology. “You must
be Harker. Alain has told me all about you, how you run
this place with precision.”

Harker preened under the compliment, and Alain
smiled at Cecile’s way with people. She would do well
here. His people would respond to her brand of leadership. She’d deal with them the same way she’d dealt
with the people in her neighborhood in Paris-with
skill and sensitivity. She was born to be the compassionate lady of the manor, his manor. He was all but
forgotten as Harker introduced her to the small staff.

As Cecile conversed with the pastry chef, Harker
signaled for Alain’s attention. “She’s wonderful, isn’t
she, Harker?” Alain said, thinking his opinionated butler wanted to offer his stamp of approval on Cecile.

“Oh, no doubt, my lord. She’s splendid, just like your
mother was and French too. Who would have thought
The Refuge would see two French mistresses” Harker
offered, then rushed on after his sentimental indulgence. “What I wanted to tell you, was that Daniel is
waiting for you in the library. He said it was urgent.
He’s ridden hard to get here”

It was not like Daniel to express false urgency. Worry
pitted Alain’s stomach. He gently interrupted Cecile’s
conversation and clasped Cecile’s hand in apology. “I
am afraid the tour will have to wait. I need to go up and
see what news my friend has brought. Harker can show
you to your room. I’ll be with you shortly.” This wasn’t
the homecoming he’d planned. He’d wanted to give Cecile a quiet, leisurely tour of his home without any intrusions, stroll the woodlands with her.

“Daniel, I’m home,” Alain said, stepping into the book-lined room. “Harker said it was of the highest
priority.”

Daniel wore a stern look on his face. “It is most urgent” His eyes glanced about the room. “You are alone?”

“Currently. Harker is showing Cecile to her room.”

“Good. I am not too late then. I’ve come to warn you
that you’ve brought home a traitor.”

Alain furrowed his brow. He did not comprehend
Daniel’s message in the least. He folded himself into a
chair. “Mrs. Brown? The chaperone is a traitor? I admit
I don’t know a thing about her only that she’s Cecile’s
secretary,” he rambled, searching for comprehension.

“No, Alain. Not Mrs. Brown, whoever she is.”
Daniel leaned forward patiently, hands splayed on tan
breeches, his voice gentle as he delivered his news.
“Cecile. The traitor is Cecile.”

“Cecile? A traitor of what? Whatever are you talking
about?” Alain was too deep in confusion to be shocked
yet by Daniel’s statement.

“I am talking about the person who betrayed L’ Un at
the docks, the person who betrayed secretary Ramboulet.” Daniel said succinctly.

Alain was all stiff defiance. “That claim is impossible and patently false. She is to be my wife.”

“Please, Alain, listen to what I have to say. I would
not come here to wreck your happiness without just
cause,” Daniel pleaded cautiously.