The Heroic Baron (7 page)

The greasy man held the brooch in his grimy palm,
hefting its weight. He lifted it to his eye, giving the impression of studying it. Cecile hid a smirk at his posturing. If this fat man with a penchant for lechery knew
anything about gems, she was a monkey’s uncle.

“This is a nice bauble. I feel generous today; I will
give you twelve francs.”

Outraged, Cecile snatched the brooch back, managing to avoid contact with his dirty palm. “Twelve
francs! That is robbery, Monsieur. Single gems in this
piece are worth more than that paltry price.”

The bell jingled announcing a new customer. Cecile
hastily wrapped the brooch in her handkerchief. With a
confidence she didn’t feel, she said, “I will take it
somewhere else.” With luck, he’d take the bait. If not, she’d be wasting precious time walking across town because he’d called her bluff.

Greed glinted in the shopkeeper’s beady eyes. “Attendez, Mademoiselle. Perhaps we can strike a bargain.”

Radiating false bonhomie, the shopkeeper lumbered
forward to greet the newcomer. Cecile kept her back to
the customer. These were squalid surroundings and she
did not want to be recognized, nor did she want to draw
attention. No self-respecting woman visited a pawn
shop. This was a place for harlots and the dregs. She refused to be mistaken for either. She had her pride. The
customer must be a cut above the usual rabble that
came in there from the way the shopkeeper was carrying on. The customer spoke, and Cecile stiffened at the
familiar voice.

“Monsieur, please finish with the lady. I am in no
hurry.”

Captain Stanislawski, the Lancer officer. She would
know his perfect French with the imperfect accent anywhere. Cecile couldn’t decide if she should pray he recognized her or not. She didn’t have time. The
handsome officer came to her side before she could
make up her mind.

“Mademoiselle, we meet again. Enchante.” He gallantly bowed over her hand. She didn’t remember offering it. He must have helped himself to it, Cecile
thought as she tried to gather her wits.

Cecile managed a simple, “Good day, Captain.”

The captain looked from the shopkeeper to her and
gave a deceptively harmless grin. “Is there a problem?
Perhaps I can be of some assistance?”

Cecile took a moment to watch the slovenly man
squirm when confronted with the impeccable manners
of Officer Stanislawski. “Captain Stanislawski, I was just
leaving. I had hoped to negotiate a fair trade with him for
a brooch but we were unable to come to agreement”

Stanislawski assessed the situation instantly. “My
pardon then, it seems nothing can be done here. Mademoiselle, if you will permit me, I can direct you to a
jeweler that will give you a fair price.”

Cecile fought back a smile as the pawn broker began
to sputter apologies. She was prepared to produce the
brooch again from her handkerchief when Stanislawski
waved away the fat man’s overtures. “No need, my
good man. I appreciate your willingness to bargain, but
not everyone has an eye for stones. I wouldn’t want you
stuck with a piece you couldn’t sell.” From the arch of
Stanislawski’s wheat-colored eyebrows, it was clear he
thought the brooch would languish in the man’s dingy
shop for lack of the right appreciative customer. “I bid
you adieu.” With a gallant flourish, Stanislawski
marched her out of the shop into the street.

“Don’t stop here,” he instructed, tugging her with
him. They continued for several blocks until they
came to a small grassy park with a bench where they
could rest.

Cecile was indignant. “How dare you!”

Stanislawksi was perplexed. “How dare I what? I
rescued you from that robber’s idea of good business.
Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Cecile tipped up her chin. “I wanted my money. He
was reconsidering his offer when you marched me out
the door.”

“The offer would never have been fair. Show me the
brooch, and I’ll get you a fair price. You’ll have your
money.”

Cautiously, so as not to draw undue attention, Cecile
brought out the brooch. Stanislawksi whistled in appreciation. “That’s a fine piece. I am doubly glad I pulled
you out of that shop when I did. Come walk with me.
I’ll take you to a jeweler. That’s the only place you’ll
get a fair price for something of this value.”

“Captain Stanislawski, I cannot go traipsing around
the city talking with jewelers. I have errands to run before evening. I have to go to the market, to the patisserie,
and the boulangerie,” Cecile protested. The man was too
handsome and far too confident for his own good.

He appeared to ponder her argument before nodding
his head, apparently having made up his mind. “Alright,
we’ll save time by riding.” Without waiting for a response, he hailed a hired town coach and gave the driver
the address of a fine jeweler on the Champs Elysees.

Cecile rebelled in the coach. “Monsieur, this is too
much! I cannot be seen on such exalted avenues
dressed like this!” She held out the worn skirt of her
ugly brown muslin.

“Enough with `monsieur,’ `Captain Stanislawski.’
That name is such a mouthful. Call me Alain. As for
you being seen in the abominable gown, do not worry.
Even if you were dressed in the finest of Parisian fashion, I would not dream of letting a lady conduct the
business of selling her jewelry. No gentleman worth his
salt would consider it. You shall wait in the coach, and I
shall negotiate on your behalf.”

“I cannot allow it,” Cecile rebutted weakly. When was the last time anyone had taken up her cause? It was
always the other way around. Surely this once she
could enjoy the prospect of having her own champion,
temporary as it may be. She gave up the struggle, leaning back against the worn squabs of the cheap hackney
seats. To her it was complete luxury. She had not ridden
anywhere in the longest of times. She could not afford
to squander her earnings on carriage rides to and from
the general’s mansion.

They did not speak again until they arrived at the
jeweler’s shop, but Cecile could feel his eyes on her.
She caught him looking at her once and he only smiled,
unbothered by being caught in the act of staring. She
couldn’t blame him. She spent the carriage ride doing
her share of staring as well, only she didn’t get caught.

Her hero of the hour was well dressed today. It was
the first time she’d seen him dressed as he likely
dressed most days. He was not in uniform as he’d been
at the dinner. He was not in grubby street attire the day
she’d collided with him. He was garbed in finely polished knee-length boots and tan breeches that encased
the long legs and muscular thighs of a horseman. His
linen was pristine beneath the well cut blue coat he
wore. His clothing was not flashy like some Frenchmen, but he was not a Frenchman. He was a visiting
soldier from Poland, probably the son of a minor noble.

His clothes were a reminder as to why he could be
nothing more than a temporary hero. A noble’s son, no
matter how minor the title, would not have anything to
do with a girl like her beyond dalliance. She was a
poor violin player just a few steps removed from
homelessness.

The carriage lurched to a stop. Alain made ready to
get out. He looked at the brooch one last time. “Cecile,
are you sure you want to do this? It is a lovely piece. I
am surprised you do not wish to keep it.”

That had been her first desire. The brooch was the
loveliest piece she’d ever seen. Primly, she clasped her
hands in her lap. “I am sure of it. I cannot in good conscience keep the piece when I turned down the offer that
went with it.” The young officer had hoped to buy affections he could not claim naturally. He had been too
prideful to let her return the brooch to him. So she vowed
to use it for the benefit of all in her sphere of influence.

Alain was back within twenty minutes, looking
smug. “I have succeeded” He deposited an envelope
thick with bills in her lap.

Cecile dared a glimpse inside and gasped. “Oh my,
I’d never have gotten this price on my own! How did
you manage?”

Alain grinned and leaned back, hands clasped behind his head, ready to tell his tale. When he finished,
Cecile realized the carriage had stopped. She’d been so
caught up in the money and the entertaining story Alain
wove, she hadn’t thought about where they were going.

“Where are we?” She glanced out the small window,
not recognizing the neighborhood. The sidewalks were
wider and the people strolling them were better dressed
than her haunts. A sneaking suspicion bloomed. This
was where her knight in shining armor turned into an
ordinary man with nothing on his mind but a quick
poke in turn for services rendered. She should have
known. She should not have let his clean, golden good
looks cloud her usual discernment of human nature. What man intervenes with a greedy pawn broker, hires
a carriage to drive across town, and deigns to sell a
piece of jewelry for three times the price she’d have
gotten for it, and expect nothing in return? Especially
when the lady in question was not even an acquaintance! No man she knew fell into that category. Cecile’s cheeks burned. She clutched the envelope,
wondering how much of her hard won earnings she’d
have to part with to extricate herself from being under
obligation to him.

Alain opened the coach door and stepped down,
turning back to assist her. “Mademoiselle, I give you, A
la Mere de Famille.” He made an overly flamboyant
sweeping gesture and bowed low.

“Une epicene?” Cecile repeated in disbelief. He had
brought her to a grocery store?

“Are you disappointed? I recall you mentioned having shopping to do. This grocer has been in business
since the seventeenth century. The store has an excellent reputation. I shop here myself since my lodgings
are just a few blocks away”

“The market would be cheaper.” Cecile hedged.
From the look of the store’s well-kept exterior with its
fresh coat of yellow paint and its green striped awning,
it was expensive.

Alain shrugged, a gesture she was coming to associate with him. “I have an account. I will take care of today’s expenses. Get anything you like.”

“I have money” Cecile said proudly.

“And I want you to keep that money” Alain reached
out and closed her hand around the envelope she brandished. The contact sent a tremor through her. His mer est touch inspired confidence in his authority and trust
in his judgment. It downright just inspired.

Deciding to trust her instincts that said here was a
good man, perhaps the one man she might ever meet
who wouldn’t expect a return on favors received, Cecile
stepped into the store. Immediately, the smells of an excellent shop assailed her nostrils: spices, fresh fruits,
coffees, and teas.

To his credit, Alain hung back, letting her choose
what she wanted and letting her take her time to do it.
Rightly, he guessed such an experience was a treat in
and of itself for Cecile. He took pleasure in watching
her hands run over the fruit like a child at Christmas
with a beloved toy. Cecile was a lovely mystery in her
drab muslin. Most women he knew would have kept the
jewelry; Alicia certainly would have. But Cecile had
been adamant about selling it. She had admitted to her
moral standards when it came to accepting the gift.

The counter was fast being overtaken by the stacks
of her purchases. Alain wondered if she’d thought
ahead. He sauntered over to the counter where she
stood checking items off her list. Alain picked up a red
apple, a smile on his face lest Cecile think he was forbidding her purchases. “Do you think you’ll be able to
eat all this before it rots?”

“It’s not all for me,” Cecile said guilelessly. “It’s for
the neighbors. Madame Andre is too old to get out.
Monsieur Pierpoint’s rheumatism makes it hard for him
to carry his groceries home from market. Madame
Boisserie just had a baby and her husband is away
fighting in the infantry.”

“Stop!” Alain cried in mock dismay.

“Is it too much? I will put some of it back” Cecile
worried her lower lip.

The sight of her anxious face touched Alain at his
core. “Of course not. I meant it. Get anything you want”

To prove the truth of his word, Alain took her a little
further down the street to a boulangerie and purchased
meat. The last stop was a pharmacy where Cecile
bought medicines for cough and fever. The hackney
was laden with purchases by the time they were finished. Alain pulled out his pocket watch stifling a curse.
The afternoon had fled. It was four o’clock. He had
hoped to see Cecile home before his pre-supper appointment with the general.

“Cecile, I regret I must leave you here. I am scheduled to meet with General Motrineau in one hour. I
have paid for the hackney. The driver is to take you
home” Alain bent over her hand. “I have enjoyed this
afternoon immensely. I will see you tonight at the supper, although please understand if I do not wish to call
attention to our association. I would not want the general to feel . . ” he’d been going to say “cuckolded” but
decided against it. She was clearly not the general’s
mistress, nor mistress to any other man. “Awkward”

Cecile nodded. “I understand completely.” Her tone
was slightly chilled. A touch of formality returned.

She was drifting away from him again, becoming
more like the defensive young woman he’d sparred
with on the general’s balcony, and less like the defiant
young woman from the pawn shop who mother-ducked
her entire neighborhood. He admired the girl he’d
glimpsed today. “Cecile, I would like to call on you to morrow afternoon when I am free from my duties at the
military school. We could go to the Tuileries.”

“I have things to do. This food must be delivered.
There are sick people to tend”

“I’ll come with you” Alain offered. “I can carry the
baskets,” he added, unwilling to be daunted by excuses.

She seemed to think it over, her sherry eyes giving
sign of her internal debate. “Alright, meet me at two
o’clock at the corner where we collided.”