Courting Miss Vallois by Gail Whitiker Page B

village in the north of France. My father was born there.’
    â€˜And your mother?’
    â€˜In Provence.’ Miss Vallois smiled. ‘Mama always said she would never move to the north, but when she met my father, that was that. I went to Provence with her when I was ten and liked it very much. The lavender fields were beautiful.’
    Robert nodded, picturing a young girl running through the lush purple fields. He imagined a slender figure in a white dress, with silver-blond hair flying out behind and laughter ringing across the fields. It made for an engaging scene. ‘You speak English exceptionally well for someone who’s never been outside France,’ he observed.
    â€˜I was employed for some time by an English lady who hired me to teach French to her daughters. In turn, I was tutored in English with particular emphasis on pronunciation and diction. I was forbidden to roll my r’s, drop my h’s, or say zat instead of that. The lady was something of a…’ She looked to him for help. ‘A termagant ?’
    â€˜A termagant.’ Robert smiled. ‘Yes, it is the same inboth languages.’ So, she had been a governess. That, he supposed, explained her polished manners and her refined way of speaking. ‘I would venture to say if their French is half as good as your English, you did an exceptional job.’
    Miss Vallois wrinkled her nose. ‘I fear I did not. The eldest daughter was not interested in learning the language and took pains to tell me so on a regular basis. But the younger one was very sweet and more than made up for her sister’s deficiencies.’ She looked at him with renewed interest. ‘Have you ever been to France, Mr Silverton?’
    The question stabbed at his heart. ‘Briefly. I held a commission in the cavalry, but sold it when my eldest brother was killed.’
    â€˜Yes, I’m so sorry. I cannot imagine what that must have been like,’ Miss Vallois said. ‘If I were to lose Antoine, it would be like losing a part of myself. I don’t know that I would ever feel whole again.’
    Robert stared at her, aware that in a few simple sentences, she had summed up exactly how he’d felt at the time of Michael’s death. He’d been shattered, his world cast into darkness by the death of the one person he’d been closer to than anyone else. ‘There are still times I don’t feel whole. Even now, when I walk into a room, I expect to see Michael there. To be able to walk up to him and laugh over some amusing and totally inconsequential event.’
    â€˜Were you close growing up?’
    â€˜Inseparable. He was only two years older than me so we shared many of the same interests. He taught me how to ride and he was there when I took my first bad spill in the field.’ Robert’s mouth twisted. ‘It was myfirst time hunting and, caught up in the excitement, I tried to take a gate at full tilt. I don’t remember hitting the ground, but I remember Michael picking me up and carrying me back to the house. He called for the surgeon and stayed with me while my arm was set.’
    â€˜That must have been painful.’
    â€˜It was, but it hurt a great deal less than my father’s indifference.’ Robert tried to keep the resentment from his voice. ‘ He was more concerned about my horse. Said I could have ruined a prime bit of blood. I wanted to lash out, but Michael put his hand on my good arm and said it wasn’t worth it. Told me I’d only regret it in the morning. And, as always, he was right.’ Robert stopped, swallowing hard. ‘I never expected Michael to die in the war. When the letter came informing us that he’d been killed, I thought it must be a mistake. I didn’t want to believe it. To me he was…indestructible.’
    â€˜I don’t think we ever really believe that someone we love will fall. I suppose that’s the best part of the