of you
to invite me to join you.”
“My pleasure entirely.”
Was he, too, thinking of last night? And what exactly had happened beyond the first
kiss? Did he remember everything? Should she ask him?
She stepped into the open carriage and took a seat across from the steward, who gave
her a polite nod. “How nice to see you again, Mademoiselle Montagne.”
“Greetings, Monsieur Bellefontaine. How is your family?”
“Very well, thank you,” he replied.
It was a forced courtesy on both sides, for the last time they met, she had begged
him to convince the marquis to show her father mercy and not take possession of the
card table winnings from the night before.
Monsieur Bellefontaine had been contrary and uncooperative. They did not part on friendly
terms. She had called him a swine.
She found herself clenching her jaw slightly at the memory of that morning meeting
and the pretense of their easy familiarity just now, when she would have preferred
to jab a hatpin into his knee.
Prince Nicholas slid onto the seat beside her and lounged back comfortably. “Mademoiselle
Montagne…,” he said with eyes narrowing slightly, and she realized it was the first
time he had heard her last name.
She felt a shiver of unease while he studied her face in the sunshine, for her identity
was now out in the open. He would be fully within his rights to charge her with kidnapping,
if he so desired. Which was why she must maintain a cordial friendship with him, at
the very least.
He turned to the steward. “You wish to show me the grounds, Monsieur Bellefontaine?”
he said, indicating that he was ready to begin.
Véronique wondered if he simply wanted to hurry things up and be done with it, or
if he was genuinely curious about what could belong to him if he accepted the marquis
as his father.
Would Nicholas be invited to tour her family home next? It was, after all, part of the marquis’s legal holdings. Perhaps
that was why she had been asked to join them.
The steward rested a hand on the ivory handle of his walking stick. “Do you have any
preference about what you would like to see first?”
Nicholas turned to meet Véronique’s gaze—as if he were seeking the wisdom of her opinion.
“Tell me, mademoiselle, where should we go?”
“It makes no difference to me, sir.”
He turned his attention back to the steward. “I should inform you that Mademoiselle
Montagne has been fully apprised about the reason I was brought here. She knows the
marquis has named me as his sole heir and that I am—according to him—his natural son.
I have explained everything to the lady, including the marquis’s claim that he and
my mother were involved in an adulterous affair here in France many years ago. You
may therefore speak openly this afternoon, Bellefontaine.”
The steward shifted uncomfortably on the seat. “I see.”
As the carriage rolled forward and started down the long tree-lined drive, Véronique
raised a gratified eyebrow at Bellefontaine.
“In that case,” he said, “we shall begin with the old oak tree on the hill. I believe,
Your Highness, that you can see it from your guest chamber window.”
Nicholas regarded him curiously. “Why there?”
Bellefontaine lifted his chin. “Because it provides the most spectacular view of the
house and the Channel, but most important, there is something very particular that
the marquis has asked me to show you today. Something that may help you to accept
the truth about your mother’s presence here.”
The carriage suddenly picked up speed. Véronique was overwhelmingly aware of Nicholas’s
thigh bumping hers. She made no move to inch away from him, however. Nor did he move
away from her.
* * *
Nicholas stared at the tree for a long moment, then approached it and ran his fingers
over the letters carved into the ancient bark. There could be no denying that the
words—and the heart that encircled
to invite me to join you.”
“My pleasure entirely.”
Was he, too, thinking of last night? And what exactly had happened beyond the first
kiss? Did he remember everything? Should she ask him?
She stepped into the open carriage and took a seat across from the steward, who gave
her a polite nod. “How nice to see you again, Mademoiselle Montagne.”
“Greetings, Monsieur Bellefontaine. How is your family?”
“Very well, thank you,” he replied.
It was a forced courtesy on both sides, for the last time they met, she had begged
him to convince the marquis to show her father mercy and not take possession of the
card table winnings from the night before.
Monsieur Bellefontaine had been contrary and uncooperative. They did not part on friendly
terms. She had called him a swine.
She found herself clenching her jaw slightly at the memory of that morning meeting
and the pretense of their easy familiarity just now, when she would have preferred
to jab a hatpin into his knee.
Prince Nicholas slid onto the seat beside her and lounged back comfortably. “Mademoiselle
Montagne…,” he said with eyes narrowing slightly, and she realized it was the first
time he had heard her last name.
She felt a shiver of unease while he studied her face in the sunshine, for her identity
was now out in the open. He would be fully within his rights to charge her with kidnapping,
if he so desired. Which was why she must maintain a cordial friendship with him, at
the very least.
He turned to the steward. “You wish to show me the grounds, Monsieur Bellefontaine?”
he said, indicating that he was ready to begin.
Véronique wondered if he simply wanted to hurry things up and be done with it, or
if he was genuinely curious about what could belong to him if he accepted the marquis
as his father.
Would Nicholas be invited to tour her family home next? It was, after all, part of the marquis’s legal holdings. Perhaps
that was why she had been asked to join them.
The steward rested a hand on the ivory handle of his walking stick. “Do you have any
preference about what you would like to see first?”
Nicholas turned to meet Véronique’s gaze—as if he were seeking the wisdom of her opinion.
“Tell me, mademoiselle, where should we go?”
“It makes no difference to me, sir.”
He turned his attention back to the steward. “I should inform you that Mademoiselle
Montagne has been fully apprised about the reason I was brought here. She knows the
marquis has named me as his sole heir and that I am—according to him—his natural son.
I have explained everything to the lady, including the marquis’s claim that he and
my mother were involved in an adulterous affair here in France many years ago. You
may therefore speak openly this afternoon, Bellefontaine.”
The steward shifted uncomfortably on the seat. “I see.”
As the carriage rolled forward and started down the long tree-lined drive, Véronique
raised a gratified eyebrow at Bellefontaine.
“In that case,” he said, “we shall begin with the old oak tree on the hill. I believe,
Your Highness, that you can see it from your guest chamber window.”
Nicholas regarded him curiously. “Why there?”
Bellefontaine lifted his chin. “Because it provides the most spectacular view of the
house and the Channel, but most important, there is something very particular that
the marquis has asked me to show you today. Something that may help you to accept
the truth about your mother’s presence here.”
The carriage suddenly picked up speed. Véronique was overwhelmingly aware of Nicholas’s
thigh bumping hers. She made no move to inch away from him, however. Nor did he move
away from her.
* * *
Nicholas stared at the tree for a long moment, then approached it and ran his fingers
over the letters carved into the ancient bark. There could be no denying that the
words—and the heart that encircled
Similar Books
