Regency Surrender: Passion And Rebellion. Louise Allen

her, as she was now. He’d enjoyed every minute they’d spent together. She knew he had.

      But she’d pushed him away. Once too often.

      ‘I know,’ continued Monsieur Le Brun belligerently, ‘so you have no need to say it, that she deserves a better man than me. That I cannot provide for her in the way I would wish. But I have hope that one day the estate of my family will be restored and that then she will come to live with me here, in France, as my countess.’

      A lump formed in her chest as she contrasted his determination to win Fenella against all obstacles, with Nathan’s swift defection.

      ‘And why, exactly,’ she said, tossing the balled-up scarf into an open trunk, ‘do you feel the need to tell me all this?’

      He gripped the arms of the chair, his jaw working.

      ‘She tells me that you plan to move to Southampton to be near her.’

      ‘What of it?’

      ‘Only this. I am a proud man, mademoiselle, as you are well aware. Fenella is to be my wife. Sophie will be my daughter. Mine is now the task of providing for them and ensuring their happiness. I give leave to inform you I shall not tolerate your interference in the way I run my household or permit you to do anything that will make either of them question where their loyalty must now lie.’

      ‘I have no intention of interfering,’ she replied coldly. ‘But have you given any thought to how lonely Fenella is going to be while you are away, pursuing your dream of getting your château back? She will have nobody to support her. No family, no friends in that area. I didn’t think you disliked me so much that you would seriously wish to deprive Fenella of the one friend she does have.’

      His scowl deepened. ‘This is what she has told me, too.’ He thrust his bony fingers through his hair, then slapped his hand down on the chair arm. ‘That only you stood by her in her darkest hour. For that, mademoiselle...’ he swallowed, as if something painful lodged in his throat ‘...I have to thank you,’ he bit out through gritted teeth. ‘And I do not wish for her to be left lonely. But...’

      Amethyst held up her hand. ‘I don’t like you any more than you like me. The only thing upon which we will ever agree is that Fenella deserves better of both of us. I propose, for her sake, that we come to some kind of...truce.’

      ‘A truce?’

      ‘Yes. I will agree to keep my distance when you are at home. But I will be purchasing a property near enough so that I can support Fenella while you are away.’

      ‘That sounds reasonable. Though she will not like it, I think, if you never visit while I am home. She will want us to become friends...’

      ‘Oh, I have thought of the perfect way to calm her fears on that score. And that is to offer you employment.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘Well, unless you have a burning desire to carry on working as a courier to English tourists, I had thought you might prefer a permanent position within George Holdings. As my French agent. There are bound to be outlets for my wares wherever in France you need to travel in pursuit of your quest, so you can fit in my business around your own agenda. It will surely be better for you if you don’t have to dance attendance on demanding tourists all day long?’

      ‘It would, but...’

      ‘I know I haven’t been an easy person to work for, but I’ve been most impressed by your tireless energy and efficiency, not to mention your patience. Besides, Fenella loves you...’

      ‘I do not want you to give me work as a favour to my wife! We both know that I have had very little success in procuring for you the new outlets for your goods.’

      ‘On the contrary, you managed to secure two contracts, under almost impossible conditions.’ Whilst acting as tour guide, and sweeping Fenella off her feet. ‘I propose paying you a small basic wage and meeting your expenses while you are travelling in France. Plus a percentage of any profits my companies make through your efforts.’

      ‘You would really put me in a position of such trust?’

      ‘Without hesitation. You have plenty of sterling qualities. Not least of which is your devotion to Fenella.’

      ‘I...I suppose I could say the same of you,’ he said grudgingly. Then his mouth twisted into a wry grimace. ‘I think since I have seen what that pig of a man has done to you—both now and when you were just a girl—that you think you have cause to distrust men. And that is perhaps why you have treated me as though I am a worm. And also...you wish not to see your friend hurt, the way you have been hurt.’

      ‘Who says I have been hurt?’

      He shook his head reprovingly. ‘Mademoiselle, ever since he came here to give you the congé, you have been a shadow of yourself. You do not eat. You do not speak. And most telling of all, you do not assert your will over mine.’

      It was all true. There didn’t seem to be any point in anything. It was as if a grey pall hung over her now, which she couldn’t ever see lifting.

      ‘Do not,’ said Monsieur Le Brun in alarm, ‘be so upset. I did not mean to make you weep. Merde!’ He pulled out a handkerchief and thrust it at her. Only then did she realise that tears were streaming down her cheeks.

      ‘It is not your fault,’ she said through his handkerchief as she blew her nose.

      ‘Fenella will never forgive me if she learns I have made you cry. Please cease.’

      ‘I just told you, you have not made me cry. No man will make me cry. I won’t let any of you,’ she said defiantly, though tears still streamed down her cheeks.

      ‘Now go away,’ she said, burying her face in his handkerchief. ‘And leave me...alone.’

      Alone. As she would be now for the rest of her life.

      * * *

      She had travelled back to England in the second carriage with Sophie, her nurse, Francine, and the new French maid. She’d realised she would much rather hold the child’s head over the bowl as she vomited than watch her former companion and courier makings sheep’s eyes at each other all the way to Calais.

      Both she and Monsieur Le Brun were on their best behaviour whenever Fenella was watching, though she couldn’t resist taking one last swipe at his masculine pride by insisting on paying all the wedding expenses and then making it as lavish as she possibly could. She met the groom’s objections by pointing out that Fenella had been robbed of a society wedding the first time round and she deserved the best.

      There was more than a hint of retaliation in the way he promptly invited a veritable crowd of remarkably well-connected people to both the church and the wedding breakfast, since most of them looked down their aristocratic noses at her. But she shrugged it off. She’d been mean to him, so...

      Or perhaps it wasn’t anything to do with her at all. Perhaps he really was responding to what she’d said about Fenella deserving a society wedding and was just doing his utmost to provide it?

      * * *

      Fenella had thoroughly enjoyed her day, which was the main thing. Though she was very tearful when it came time to part on the morning after.

      ‘I hate to think of you going back to Stanton Basset all on your own,’ she said.

      ‘I do not plan to stay for very long. I will just see that my aunt’s house is cleared for sale, or rent, and then come to join you. Not in your marital home, I hasten to add,’ she put in when Monsieur Le Brun looked distinctly alarmed. ‘But in some nearby hotel, while I view the properties on offer.’

      ‘Still, I don’t like the thought of you travelling all over the country by yourself,’ persisted Fenella.

      ‘I do not like it myself,’ put in Monsieur Le Brun, to her surprise. ‘You hired me to act as your courier from Stanton Basset to Paris and home.