The Heroic Baron (8 page)

Alain handed her up into the carriage and slapped
the side, signaling to the driver. He watched the cab
pull into the traffic. She was magnificent. He had not
dreamed his violin playing temptress would turn out to
be a woman with such a warm heart. Silly as it was to
want to tell a stranger about his grand vision of a seaside resort in Hythe, he felt a desire to share that most
important plan with her. After seeing her today, he
knew she’d feel as he did about creating such a place.
He turned down the street for the walk home with a
spring in his step that had nothing to do with his impending interview with the general.

Cecile dressed thoughtfully, if hurriedly, in the little
chamber off the kitchen. She’d like to think she’d
dressed carefully, but she didn’t have the luxury of time
to tediously attend to every deliberate detail of her
wardrobe for the evening. It had taken longer than
she’d anticipated stowing her packages, and her brother
had been agog with interest about her afternoon spent
in the company of Captain Stanislawski. Alain. They’d
become so informal so quickly. She felt she had known
him for much longer than an afternoon and that short
encounter on the balcony two weeks ago. Perhaps that
was why formality was drilled so sternly into young
ladies heads. Informality bred a sense of false intimacy.

She peered into the mirror over the washstand and
fiddled with her hair, wetting her fingers to twist wispy
tendrils into soft, loose curls. Her cheeks were still
pleasantly flushed from the brisk walk to the mansion.
She would do. Cecile looked down at the deep folds of the gored salmon-colored gown. A white gros-grain
ribbon banded the high waist beneath her breasts and
complimented the dainty white lace trim on her puffed
sleeves. The gown was rich but simple, the perfect
choice for a spring dinner held alfresco. The arrival of
truly warm weather at last had prompted the general to
hold this evening’s supper out of doors on his magnificent back terrace overlooking a luxurious expanse of
lawn so uncommon in the city.

For the occasion, she’d selected several pieces from
Vivaldi to commemorate the season. Tonight she would
play her violin beneath the stars, circulating amongst
the guests. She’d be busy playing, which would leave
little opportunity for the general’s friends to make
spectacle of her and little opportunity to be cornered by
Alain. Her heart gave an odd thump at the thought. It
was silly to be disappointed by the thought. She’d spent
the afternoon with him, and he was coming to call the
next afternoon. She’d be spending more time than she
needed with him. Secretly, she suspected it would be all
too easy to have her head turned by such a handsome
man. She could ill afford the complication of a hopeless relationship right now. She had her brother to think
of as well as looking ahead to future employment once
the general left.

Cecile grabbed up her violin and hurried to the verandah. She took a moment at the glass doors leading
outside to appreciate the beautiful spectacle that lay before her. The verandah was decorated with several
round, white cloth-covered tables instead of one long
table so no guest would have their back to the verdant
park. Candles in protective glass shields flickered against the hint of an evening breeze. Further past the
verandah’s stone balustrade, the trees shone with the
light of lanterns, inviting guests to walk the paths. The
park had been transformed into a fairy tale complete
with champagne-bearing footmen. But not for her, Cecile sternly reminded herself. She was working. Like
the livery clad footmen who circumspectly moved
among the guests anticipating their every whim, she
was part of those who labored to create the fairy tale
that lay before her. Cecile tucked the violin beneath her
chin and began to stroll among the guests playing a soft
minuet.

She caught sight of Alain standing next to the general, talking to a group of men she recognized as General Motrineau’s select coterie of friends. Alain had
risen fast indeed to be included in such a gathering. He
looked resplendent and at ease in his dress uniform, as
if he’d been born to such haughty circles. Alain looked
her way and she flushed, realizing he’d caught her staring at him. She quickly looked away and moved towards a group of chairs in the park where a collection
of officers’ wives were gathered beneath a tree.

Talk at the supper tables was taken up by politics and
Napoleon as usual, Cecile noted as she stood a decent
distance from the tables playing a piece of quiet dinner
music. She made it a habit not to listen too closely to
what was said in case she inadvertently heard something she should not have been privy to. But tonight, the
conversation kept returning to a series of disappearances General Motrineau found intriguing, and Cecile
found it difficult to ignore the agitation that ran through
the guests.

“If you must know, Captain, I was not completely
honest with you this afternoon when you asked for a
secretary on loan” Motrineau motioned for a footman
to refill his wine glass. “I let you borrow my secretary
because I want you to keep him busy, keep an eye on
him. I’ve heard rumors about his involvement in a secret society with royalist sentiments.”

Alain did not appear nonplussed by the suggestion.
“Perhaps someone wishes him ill and spreads false rumors in hopes of seeing him imprisoned.”

Waiting to see that he had all eyes on him, Motrineau
continued. “If it is all false, then why have fifteen family members been discovered missing since March? I’ll
wager they preceded him out of the country. Maybe
they are fomenting rebellion abroad and raising expatriates against Napoleon”

Women at the table gasped at such blasphemy. Several guests uttered refrains of “Don’t people know they
are better off now than they were under the Bourbons?”
Cecile wanted to laugh at such uninformed hypocrisy. It
mattered little to her if France had a king or an emperor.
Her life would not change. Her father had once believed
the world could be changed by honest men with honest
ideas. He’d ended up dead and his livelihood destroyed.

“It seems they must have had help. They were all
bakers by the name of Panchette, of no real consequence to anyone except through their cousin by marriage, my secretary. There was no reason for them to
leave unless they were involved in something treasonous” Motrineau spread his hands expansively on the
cloth. “So you see, Captain, I must beg your forgiveness for my hidden agenda”

At the mention of the Panchettes, Cecile missed a
note, giving the tune a sour sound. The Panchettes!
Alain had been looking for them the day they disappeared. She speared Alain with her gaze. What did he
know? She missed another note and had difficulty recovering. Had the Panchettes escaped or had they been
arrested under suspicions of treason? What role had
Alain played in their disappearance? At least she was
justified in not telling him their whereabouts. Her glorious afternoon with her gallant prince crumpled against
the realities. Alain was a soldier for the regime which
had seen her father killed. Quite possibly, Alain had
been the one who’d arrested the Panchettes.

Alain gave a familiar shrug and waved away the general’s apology. “It is nothing. I shall keep an eye on
him.” His voice was blase but Cecile imagined for a
moment she’d seen recognition flicker in his green
eyes. Speculation ran rife through her mind. Had Alain
sought her out today because he hoped to use her to
gain access to the neighborhood where they’d met?
Was he perhaps still looking for someone else? Maybe
his kindnesses today had been calculated measures to
gain her trust. Did he already know she was the one
who now rented the rooms vacated by the Panchettes?
Rooms she was able to rent because of the money he’d
given her? The general’s loud voice from the table cut
through her growing anger.

“I knew I could count on you! You’re a fine man,
Captain. You must understand I cannot risk having a
treasonous viper in my own household. What would
Emperor Bonaparte think if he discovered before I did what type of employee I harbored?” The general gestured to Alain’s empty glass. “More wine?”

“No, thank you. I’ve had plenty.” Alain declined.

Major von Hausman spoke from across the table.
“You’re to be commended. You are not who I thought
you were. I have to say, I had my concerns about you.
None of us knew you by face or by reputation when you
were appointed to duty in Paris. Sometimes there are
reasons one is sent away on solitary duty from his
corps. I feared it was the case with you, Captain, another ne’er do well rich man’s son. I asked around
through my acquaintances abroad. They’d said you
were a drunkard and a rowdy rascal with a tendency for
unprovoked violence. I am pleased to report, you’re not
what they say you are”

Alain looked suitably humbled as glasses were
raised in cheers to the new friend in their midst. The
general clapped his hands for attention after the impromptu toast. “In honor of our Polish friend, Captain
Stanislawski, I have asked my chef to prepare the Polish dessert, Baba au Rhum, made famous in France by
King Louis XV’s father-in-law, Prince Stanislas
Leczinksi.” Motrineau made a grand sweeping flourish
with his hand, indicating the footmen to step forward
with the rum-sprinkled cakes.

As plates emptied of dessert, the diners grew eager to
stretch and walk in the warm spring darkness. With permission from the general to enjoy the grounds, the table
began to disperse. Suspiciously, Cecile watched Alain
lean over and whisper to the general. Moments later,
the general beckoned her to his side. “Cecile, our young captain wishes to take a stroll beneath the trees. He is
the only one here tonight without a female escort.”

Cecile read the implied hint between the lines. “I
would be honored to show you the park. The general is
blessed with a lovely piece of property in the middle of
town; it is not to be missed.” She thought her earlier
anger was well disguised in her bland conversation.

Alain rose and offered her his arm. A footman came
forward to take the violin and safely put it aside. She
was loathe to relinquish the instrument, but it would be
awkward if not ridiculous to stroll with one hand on a
gentleman’s arm and the other clutching the neck of a
violin.

“You’ve been shooting daggers at me since supper.
What have I done to earn your enmity since we last
parted?” Alain asked humorously, guiding Cecile over
an exceptionally large tree root in their path. He’d skillfully maneuvered them out of earshot of the other
strolling couples.

“Can you not guess? You seem to be quite adept at
subterfuge.”

“I am afraid you’ll have to explain yourself.”

Cecile cast around the grove, making sure of their
privacy. “The Panchettes. You were looking for them
the day we met and now you’ve managed to trap their
unsuspecting cousin.” Her voice was no louder than an
angry whisper. The expression of relief on Alain’s face
increased her irritation as did his next, ill-chosen words.

“Ma petite cherie, is that all?” He even had the audacity to follow it up with a laugh.

Cecile pulled away from him and faced him with
hands on hips. “Is that all?” She mocked his words. “Does a man’s freedom mean so little to you? A man’s
life, a family, may be ruined because of your callousness.”

Alain swallowed hard. Cecile was gratified her
words had hit their target. “Cecile, is that what you
think of me? Don’t you know me better than that from
our afternoon together?”

“The afternoon showed me that rich men are truly
alike.” Cecile’s defenses were on full alert. Alain had
not chosen to counter her attacks with denial. She’d provoked him so that he’d tell the truth, the truth she wanted
to hear, that he hadn’t sent the Panchettes to their doom.

“Pray tell, what is a rich man like?” Alain prompted.

“A rich man tries to buy everything, even people. Do
you think I can’t see through your ruse? You bought me
things, did me favors, and treated me like a real lady in
the hopes that I would incriminate my neighbors by
giving you an entree to my neighborhood. What other
interest could you have in helping me deliver food to
invalids and shut-ins?” Cecile railed. “You got close to
me in hopes of being invited in to the homes of the very
people you want to investigate.”

Alain’s voice was forced and low. “First, you are arguing from a position of half-truths overheard at a dinner table. Second, why is it so hard to believe I might
share your interest in helping those in need?” He
stepped closer to her until there was no distance between them. The white breeches of his uniform rubbed
against the light silk of her gown. “Third, when I woo
you, you will know it. It will not be with a visit to a jewelers or a grocery but with a visit to my lips to yours. It
will bear resemblance to something like this.”

Alain tipped her chin up and brought his lips to her
mouth, covering it, sealing it with his own. Cecile
whimpered more in surprise than resistance, although
her conscience briefly argued she should not be kissing
this duplicitous man. He had managed to neither tell her
truths or lies. At the feel of his strong arm around her,
drawing her against him, heat pooled in her stomach.