Vintage Love (45 page)

With her usual courage, Enid refused to consider the darker aspects of the situation. She was aware of the difficulties she and Armand might face before coming together again, but she would go on hoping it would happen. In the meanwhile, she would try to make the best of her mock marriage to the dissolute young nobleman.

When she arrived at the vicomte’s chateau, Andrew was waiting for her in her bedroom. Elegantly attired in a yellow coat and blue breeches, he nevertheless looked more worn and pale than when he had first arrived in Paris. Evidently the round of orgies had taken its toll on him. And on his temper.

He greeted her coldly. “Well, madam, you are most rosy-cheeked and cheerful after your stay in the country.”

“I had a pleasant visit with Lucinda,” she said.

“No doubt.” He could barely conceal a sneer. He clasped his hands behind his back and continued. “I did not care for the way you left here. It was abrupt and foolhardy.”

“I’m sorry, but I felt I had to get away at once.”

“So Claude told me. Please bear in mind that I will tolerate no such behavior in the future. I insist that I be informed of your comings and goings.”

“You were so occupied with your own affairs, it hardly seemed to matter.”

“My affairs are my business,” Andrew snapped. “At any rate, we shall be leaving in the morning, and when we reach my home in London, I will expect you to conduct yourself in a more proper fashion.”

Enid stared at him. “You dare to say that, after all
you
have done?”

“You are my wife, dear lady, not my governess. Keep to your position.”

“Am I to have no freedom in exchange for what you ask?” she demanded.

“Within reason,” he replied evenly. “We must conserve our money for a time. The gambling table has not been kind to me here.”

“Then you would do well to curb your gambling in London!”

He shrugged. “I will decide that for myself.”

“And
I
shall expect the generous expense account you promised me.” Enid whirled about and began to rearrange her long curls at the dressing table.

“You are bolder now than when you left, I realize. Has Lucinda instilled this rebellious spirit in you? Or is it merely that you had more interesting companionship in Versailles? Wait—is it possible you had a dalliance with a man?”

She turned around and eyed him with scorn. “You are the expert when it comes to male dalliance!”

“A sharp tongue will never endear you to me, sweet Enid.”

“I do not expect endearment,” she countered. “I only ask for respect.”

Lord Andrew made no reply to this. After a tense moment he said, “The vicomte requests that you join us downstairs for dinner.”

“Thank you, but I would prefer to have my meals up here until I leave.”

Her husband smiled sourly. “You will not be missed at the dining table, I can assure you. However, I will see that trays are sent up to you.”

She saw nothing of him or the vicomte until the next morning when she stood in the entry hall, waiting for the coach that would take her and Andrew to the Channel boat.

Claude came forward and kissed her hand as Andrew went out to check the luggage. “I trust that when you return we shall enjoy more of your company.”

“Thank you,” she said. “However, I doubt that I will be back in the near future.”

“Lord Andrew visits Paris at least two or three times a year.”

“I am sure he will continue his visits, but those will be by himself. This was a rather special one, you will recall. Our honeymoon.”

The vicomte’s smile was weak. “Yes, of course. A most special occasion.”

So she said goodbye to France, at least for a while. Throughout the crossing she was preoccupied with her own thoughts and Andrew grew increasingly annoyed with her. He was convinced that her aloofness was a result of her visit to Versailles, but she refused to enlighten him with an explanation. Her brief romance with Armand was her prized secret.

• • •

The London town house off Regent’s Park was large and gloomy; it felt empty with only herself, Andrew, and the servants. All immediate relatives were dead, so he had been living there by himself. Enid could only speculate as to the type of excesses that had gone on there, and she noticed that the servants viewed her as an object of interest.

Andrew had been discreet enough to see that they had adjoining rooms, but the connecting door was kept locked most of the time. They made public appearances together, attending elegant parties and the theater. He went to the gaming houses alone and often returned with a male companion.

Those were difficult nights for Enid. Despite the thick walls, she was frequently able to hear their laughter and talk. The sounds of passion between her husband and another man continued to shock her.

The one bright thing about her return to London was the news from Surrey that her father’s health was gradually improving and that he was again applying himself to his many investments.

Enid wrote her parents of her life in London, making it appear happy and carefree, and promised to visit them soon. She also wrote to Lucinda, and after a few weeks she received a reply. Things had grown worse in France, but the duke would not think of leaving his estate. Armand was still valiantly combating the revolutionist underground and had vanished somewhere in the environs of Paris.

Enid knew she could not bear the boredom of her existence without some outside interests, so she appealed for help to a lawyer who looked after much of her father’s business. Edward Minchy was a small man with sharp black eyes who always wore his white wig too far back on his head and was usually attired in black. He was considered one of the wisest solicitors in all of London.

As she sat by the roll-top desk in his rather shabby London office, he studied her and rubbed his chin. “So you married young Lord Blair, did you?”

“Yes.”

“Not a notable love match, I assume. I’m familiar with his reputation.”

Her cheeks crimsoned. “I fear that I knew nothing until I became his wife.”

Mr. Minchy eyed her shrewdly. “But he has made it clear to you now?”

“All too clear,” she replied shamefacedly.

The lawyer coughed. “Well, I doubt that you’ll be bothered by having children, if the London gossips have it right.”

“They are all too correct, Mr. Minchy.”

“Are your parents aware of this situation?”

“They have no idea of the depths of his perfidy. Nor do I want them to.”

“Your father is a just man and a righteous one. If he knew the truth, I doubt that he would allow you to live under the same roof as Andrew Blair.”

“My father and mother would be shocked,” she agreed. “But father has been ill, and I don’t want him bothered with this.”

“Ah,” Mr. Minchy sighed. “Well, there are signs of his improving. Perhaps you can discuss it with him later.”

“Perhaps.”

“In the meantime, what can I do for you?”

“I need to fill in my time,” she said. “And I would like to improve my French so that I could speak and interpret it like a native.”

“An odd wish,” the solicitor told her. “We English are proud of our language, and it serves us comfortably wherever we may go.”

“Perhaps, but my desire is to better my French as a personal accomplishment.”

“Well, in that case you need a first-rate instructor.”

“Someone reliable. I hoped you could make some suggestions.”

The little man looked happier. “As a matter of fact, I can. I know a fellow who translated some papers for me. He has also translated a good deal of plays for the theater people. His name is Gustav Brideau, and he has rooms not far from here.”

“I would like you to send him a message, telling him I want to hire him for a few half-days a week as a private instructor.”

“Very well, I shall do it,” Mr. Minchy promised. Then he paused and said, “Do you think your husband will allow this?”

“Why shouldn’t he?”

“Gustav Brideau is young and charming. I understand he performed romantic roles in Paris.”

“That should make no difference to my husband.”

“I’m merely warning you in advance. This man is most attractive.”

“Send him to my house tomorrow morning if he is available,” she told Mr. Minchy, and bade him farewell.

The next morning the young Frenchman arrived, and more than verified the lawyer’s description of him. Gustav Brideau was tall and slender, with broad shoulders, a distinguished manner, and fine features crowned by dark, curly hair. That he did not wear a wig, like most of the men of fashion Enid knew, impressed her at once.

“You have no wig, Monsieur Brideau!”

“No, I don’t,” he said in perfect English. “I have plenty of hair of my own, so why should I wear one?”

She smiled. “It is the style, you know.”

“I am not a slave to style, dear Lady Blair.”

“That is refreshing. And you speak English like a native!”

The dashing fellow bowed. “Thank you for the compliment, my lady, but I assure you I am a born Frenchman.”

Enid sat back in her chair and studied him. He was taller than either her husband or Armand, and more youthful in appearance than they. She could not help but think, wryly, that Gustav Brideau, with his good looks and curly hair, would be the sort of man to quickly turn her husband’s eye.

Certainly he appealed to her, though not in the same way as Armand. She had fallen completely in love with the dignity and fine nature of the count. “I understand that you are often engaged in translation work,” she said.

“I do a fair amount of it, my lady.”

“For business and also for the theater?”

“That is true.”

“I’m mostly interested in improving my handling and understanding of the spoken word,” she explained. “I write your language well enough.”

“That gives you a sound foundation, my lady,” Brideau assured her. “We should have no trouble at all.”

“Then I would like you to come two mornings and two afternoons a week.”

He bowed. “That can be arranged. May I mention that I also give lessons in fencing?”

“Fencing?” She laughed. “What would a young lady do with fencing?”

“Some ladies in the theater have need of that skill,” he replied. “Also, they have found that this type of training has increased their gracefulness and slimmed their figures.”

Enid lifted her eyebrows. “These side benefits had not occurred to me,” she admitted.

“You might consider trying the sport,” he went on. “I think it could be useful for protection in these dark days of violent crime. I give lessons in my attic flat, which has a good deal of room since the roof is high and peaked. I suggest you come one day when I have a female student so you can decide if fencing interests you.”

“Thank you. I shall look forward to it.”

Thus began Enid’s association with Gustav Brideau.

After a few French lessons he made a suggestion. “Why must we be so confined on these pleasant summer days? Couldn’t we go for a walk in the streets, or even riding, and carry on our conversation exercises while we take in various surroundings?”

“What an excellent idea!” Enid exclaimed.

The next day when he called, she went out with him to tour the shopping district nearby. This gave her a chance to use a different assortment of words.

“You are becoming very proficient,” Gustav assured her.

“I’m doing better,” she agreed, “but I want my French to be perfect.”

It was inevitable that their walks should lead to their going riding together. There were several fine horses idle in the Blair stable, so Enid ordered two of them saddled and she and Gustav cantered into the park, conversing happily in French.

A few nights later, at a ball given by a married couple whom Enid and Andrew knew, the dowager Lady Stubbs came up to them and peered at Andrew through her lorgnette “It was
not
you I saw riding with your wife in the park the other day,” she declared. “It was a dark young man!”

Andrew’s expression grew grim. “Madam, you must be in error. My wife does not go riding, and certainly not with gentlemen other than myself.”

“But I saw her!” the elderly woman protested. “Didn’t I?” She put the question directly to Enid.

Enid blushed and replied, “It’s possible. I have ridden in the park several times lately.”

“Who was the man?” her ladyship demanded.

Enid wanted to send her packing but decided to be polite. “The gentleman you refer to is my French instructor.”

“Indeed!” Lady Stubbs sniffed, and tottered off.

Andrew gave Enid an ugly look. “We will go into this matter later.”

He waited until they had returned to the town house before he lashed out at her. “You are making a laughingstock out of me! I caught two of the servant girls joking about your French teacher the other day! What is going on here?”

Enid removed her black taffeta cape to reveal bare shoulders and low-cut turquoise evening gown. Holding the cloak loosely in her hands, she said wearily, “And don’t you know they also joke about you and the men you bring here?”

“I have heard nothing about that!” he snapped.

“They take care that you don’t. But behind your back they call you a sodomist.”

“Don’t try to draw attention away from your own deeds by putting me in the wrong,” he retorted sharply. “I was content to let that fellow come here for your French lessons. But I didn’t give you permission to go out with him, let alone to raid my stables and take him riding with you!”

“The horses needed exercise!” she protested feebly.

“It seems to be the tongues of our friends that are getting the most exercise from your indiscretions!” he stormed.

“You know there was no harm in any of it!”

“I would like to believe that, but in this day and age in London, I very much doubt it.”

She tossed her head angrily. “You judge me on the basis of your own disgraceful conduct!”

“I forbid you to go riding with that man again or to walk the streets with him!”

“May I continue to take my lessons here?”

“Yes, if you must.” Andrew sighed heavily. “Though I confess I’m suspicious of your sudden ardor for the French tongue. I have an idea it stems from your trip to Versailles. You have been most secretive since you were there.”