Sweet Bravado by Alicia Meadowes

that honesty will save us both unnecessary pain,” Nicole responded in a voice empty of feeling. He
     would never know the depth of her suffering. Never!
    “I am as desirous as yourself that the truth be maintained between us. Your words suggest that I have something to hide.”
     The Viscount strove to sound calm.
    “Whatever you desire, my lord, you may be sure there is nothing hidden.”
    “Nicole! Say it out and have done with this hinting. What is it that you hold against me?” Valentin demanded, his exasperation
     getting the better of him.
    But again she would not speak.
    “If it was my want of proper conduct last night, I am all apologies. I admit I drank too much.”
    She cut him off. “Say no more, I beg you,” she claimed in a strangled voice. “What is done, is done.”
    His face grew stricken. What had he done? “Good God, Nicole, what is it? What have I done?” He reached to take both her hands
     in his, but she snatched them back as if burned.
    “No, don’t!” she whispered and jumped up and fled from the room.
    Valentin stood watching as she ran from him, the bloodfrozen in his veins. What had he done to cause such a reaction?.
    Nicole remained barricaded in her room for the remainder of the day, and a much cowed Viscount prowled restlessly about the
     chateau alternately raging against himself, Nicole, his mother, Aunt Sophie and the whole Har-court clan. But beneath it all
     was a secret fear lest he should have inflicted some wound on Nicole too painful to be faced. Reckless and abandoned he may
     have been in his countless amours, but never had he violated the code of a gentleman by brutal conduct toward the gentler
     sex. Had the strain of this godforsaken marriage caused some hidden warp in his nature to suddenly surface?
    By God, he would have the truth from Nicole. He stood outside her door ready to batter it down should she refuse him entry,
     but he hesitated before knocking and was lost. Once again fear of what he might have done overwhelmed him and he turned on
     his heel and sought refuge in the library, drinking himself into a blind stupor of oblivion. They saw no more of each other
     that day.
    The following morning hunger drove Nicole to the breakfast room. There was no sign of the Viscount, and a much bewildered
     household staff served breakfast with quiet restraint. As Nicole applied butter to a croissant, Valentin entered and seated
     himself across the table from her. She kept her eyes downcast, unable to eat. There was no sound of movement from the other
     side, and she could not resist a brief glance in that direction. The haggard face across from her shocked her into wide-eyed
     wonder.
    “Valentin!”
    “So, you condescend to speak to me, madame?” He took refuge behind a front of disdain. Somewhere in the alcoholic excesses
     of the preceding night, Valentin’s self-esteem, no longer able to bear the weight of an unnamedguilt, had magically emerged as the injured party. This unfortunate tactic of self-preservation kindled an immediate like
     response in Nicole and cast the unhappy pair into a condition of stalemate.
    “It is only that you do not look yourself, my lord,” she shrugged, as if commenting on the inanities of the weather.
    “Do not trouble yourself on my account,” Valentin returned in an equally bored fashion.
    “I do not, my lord.”
    “That is well,
my lady.”
    A bleak two days of stiff formalities passed before Valentin’s sense of the ridiculous asserted itself. Besides, his determination
     to leave Nicole alone began to pale. What had he done to offend her so? He must get it out into the open once and for all.
     He still retained the impression that Nicole had responded to him on their wedding night. Her present behavior was a contradiction.
    Twilight was descending around the enclosed summer-house where Nicole sat reading when she became aware of Valentin’s presence
     in the room. He was leaning against the door jamb observing