Noble Satyr: A Georgian Historical Romance (25 page)

“Remember your first marriage to
Jean-Claude?” said Lord Vallentine patiently. “You were younger
than Antonia, I’ll swear, when you married him. He must’ve been
twice your age, too! And you were happy, weren’t you?”

“That was different.”

“Different in what way?”

“It was an arranged marriage,” argued Estée.
“Arranged by my mother and my uncle Salvan, and approved by my
brother. At first I did not like the idea at all. I cried all the
way through the ceremony. But they knew what was in my best
interests and yes, Jean-Claude made me very happy.”

“And he was twice your age.”

“It is ridiculous of you to compare
Jean-Claude with my brother! Jean-Claude, he was a widower and knew
how to treat a female as a wife. Besides, he could never be branded
a libertine. Do you think my mother would have approved such a man
for her daughter had he my brother’s reputation?”

Lord Vallentine nodded despondently. “You’re
right, of course. There’s not a mamma in Paris, or London for that
matter, who’d care to have her daughter wedded to a nobleman with
Roxton’s reputation. Still, there ain’t a law that says a man can’t
live just as he pleases.”

Estée wasn’t listening. She sighed and said,
“I am worried, so worried, Lucian. You heard Salvan. He has a
letter from Antonia’s grandmother. Not even she wants the girl. She
leaves her to the wolves. I have always despised Augusta and this
only makes me detest her all the more. And there is this marriage
contract that only requires her grandfather’s signature…”

“I’ll wager your brother has worked out some
plan to get the girl out of this fix. Didn’t he say at table he
knew about Augusta Strathsay’s letter? If he knows that much then
he’s worked somethin’ out.”

Estée took her gaze from the girl’s throat
and viewed his lordship candidly. “And if not?”

His lordship sat back against the silk
cushions and sighed heavily, passing a hand down his handsome face.
“Look here, Estée,” he said. “I don’t want to argue this with you
any more. I’m ready to put my faith in your brother’s ability to
protect Antonia from the Salvans. I don’t see why you shouldn’t
either.”

Estée smiled hesitantly and rested her head
on his lordship’s shoulder. “Do not be naïve, Lucian. I do love you
for your romantic notions, but it is not the Salvans who are going
to break Antonia’s heart. Me, I see how it is. She is such a sweet
dear little thing and she is going to be hurt by my brother, very
hurt by him, and I do not know how to prevent such a thing!”

Lord Vallentine scratched his wig. “Neither
do I, damme! But we can’t be morose, not tonight, or the chit will
guess something is up and hound me until I blabber the lot. I’ve no
defense against her, y’know!”

Madame laughed and pinched his cleft
chin.

“Monseigneur and I have given you enough
time to court on the couch,” announced Antonia, standing by the
tray of coffee and brandy. “So now we will make polite
conversation, yes?”

The gentleman were greatly amused by this
pronouncement but Estée delivered Antonia a stern lecture on her
forwardness, that a young lady did not make such unacceptable
pronouncements in mixed company.

“It-it was thoughtless of me,” stammered
Antonia. “I did not realize—I am sorry…”

“Yes, of course you are,” said Estée and
gave her a crushing hug. “I am tired, that is all.” She looked over
Antonia’s fair head at her brother. “Do not let her stay up too
late.”

“I’ll see you up,” said Lord Vallentine and
offered his arm to his betrothed. He winked at Antonia. “Don’t go
away, imp. I want one last try at defeating you at the backgammon
board, even if it is your birthday.”

“Good night, Madame,” said Antonia and
smiled. “I am very happy you are to marry M’sieur Vallentine. He
will make you a good husband I think, even if he is hopeless at all
board games and cannot fence with—”

“Brat!” laughed his lordship and flicked her
under the chin.

Antonia waited until they left the library
before she turned to the Duke with a puzzled look. “Was I tactless,
do you think?”

“Quite tactless. But it is of no
consequence. Estée is over-sensitive, as her kind are.”

She sat next to him on the sofa and kicked
off her shoes. “Mayhap I should not tease Vallentine so much
either?”

“He would be disappointed.”

She chuckled. “Mayhap I will tease him, but
just a little. Do you mind if I sit in my stockinged feet,
Monseigneur?” she asked, wriggling her toes to the warmth of the
fire.

“Not I. But you must remember it is not
polite in—er—respectable company for a lady to take off her shoes.
Nor should a lady ever show her ankles.”

“No? And yet a lady can display to the world
most of her breasts and not an eyebrow is raised in disapproval. I
find that rather strange.”

“Society’s dictates are strange,
mignonne
.”

“Well I do not care at all what society
thinks of me as long as you do not take exception to what I
do.”

“But I am not a respectable gentleman,
Antonia,” he said flatly and moved away from her to pour out a
brandy. “Strive to remember that.”

“And if I was not a respectable lady?” she
asked lightly, regarding his straight back with a small smile,
“would Monseigneur kiss my ankles then?”

The Duke looked over his shoulder at her. “I
would not stop at your ankles, you little wretch. Now behave
yourself or I will send you off to bed.”

This response was all that she’d hoped for
but a niggling doubt caused her to frown and be serious for a
moment. “Étienne, he said that his father and you are playing a
silly sordid game for my virtue.”

The Duke set his brandy glass aside and sat
down beside her and possessed himself of her hands. “Antonia, look
in my eyes and tell me if you honestly believe I could be party to
one of my cousin’s detestable schemes.”

“I do not believe it, Monseigneur,” she
answered quietly. She glanced down at his long fingers holding her
hands and decided there was no better time than the present to find
out how much he truly cared for her. “This horrid marriage contract
between the Salvans and my grandfather, I am not so naïve that I do
not know that when M’sieur le Comte obtains my grandfather’s
signature I will be compelled to marry Étienne. And with my
grandmother also for the union I have not an ally in the world…but
for you and Madame and of course Vallentine. But there is something
you can do—

“Believe me,
mignonne
, if there was a
way—”

“—to help me,” Antonia continued, and took a
moment to compose herself before saying forthrightly, “I wonder if
you would do me the honor of bedding me before I am married—”

“Mademoiselle goes too far,” snarled the
Duke and let go of her hands.

“—because if you do not, Salvan he will have
me first and I do not think I could bear for that to happen,”
Antonia added in a rush, the dark look on the Duke’s face making
her less brave with every passing second. “I have heard that
if—that if a female’s first time with a man is not a pleasurable
experience for her, if he thinks only of his own wants and needs
and nothing of hers, then every time after that will be equally
unbearable for her. And that is what will happen, Monseigneur, if
Salvan has his way.”

“Antonia, for pity’s sake…” Anger was
replaced with anguish, for he knew she spoke the truth and he did
not know how to allay her justifiable fears. “What you ask… It is
not my right… You must understand that I cannot interfere…”

Antonia blinked. “You want Salvan to have
me?”

“No! Of course not! And even if I want to I
cannot have you either!”

“Because you do not want to bed me?” she
asked in a small voice.

“Not want to?” he repeated, as if the answer
was self-evident. Yet, it was the first time since he had helped
her escape Versailles that he had allowed himself to contemplate
such an eventuality. The realization that he wanted to make love to
her very much was so blindingly obvious that he felt the heat in
his face and he looked down at his hands to hide a guilty blush.
“
Mignonne
, if there be no harm in it and I could alter time,
suspend time for just the two of us, I would do so, all for the
privilege of making love to you,” he confessed. “But time cannot be
suspended. It is not a question of not wanting to bed you, but a
question of not doing so because it is not right. It is wrong for a
man of my years and position to take advantage of a girl in his
care, that would be an abuse of trust.”

“But if it is what I want,” she asked
simply, “then how can it be an abuse of trust as you say?”

He retrieved his brandy glass from the
mantle and drank the contents in one, an eye on Antonia who sat as
still as a statue on the sofa, petticoats billowing about her, and
her small stockinged feet peeping out from under the layers of
silk. She was regarding him with studious enquiry, her large,
slightly almond shaped, emerald green eyes full of the expectation
and optimism of youth. She had such lovely eyes. It caused him to
swallow in an aching throat and glance down at the emerald ring on
his left hand.

“I cannot do as you ask,” he rasped and
swallowed again, adding tonelessly, “It—I would be beneath
contempt; my morals judged more unspeakable than Salvan’s.”

“When two people
in
love
make
love what does the judgment of the world matter? Surely all other
considerations are unimportant?”

At this simple pronouncement he smiled
crookedly. Antonia knew with a sinking feeling that his cynical
façade was once again firmly fixed in place.

“An entertaining but exceedingly naïve view
of the world, my dear,” he drawled and turned back to the
fireplace, the smile dropping into a frown of preoccupation as he
continued to gaze upon the dying fire in the grate. “It’s time you
were abed,” he said flatly. “Tomorrow Vallentine is escorting
Madame to St. Germain to visit some ancient aunts. They will be
away two nights at most, so you will not be alone for long.”

Antonia came across to the fireplace in her
stockinged feet and looked up at his impassive profile. “You are
not staying here with me?”

“No. That would be improper,” he said to the
flames. “At first light I join the King’s hunt at
Fontainebleau.”

“
Bonne nuit
, Monseigneur,” Antonia
replied and dropped a curtsey. “And thank you for today. I had a
lovely birthday. And your gifts…” She lightly touched the emerald
and diamond choker about her throat. “I will treasure them
always.”

At that she quietly retreated to slip on her
heeled shoes and was half way to the door when he called out to
her, making her heart race and expectation again spark in her
eyes.

“Antonia. It is best that
our—er—conversation tonight never took place.”

“Yes, Monseigneur,” she replied obediently
and did not linger.

Yet, she went off to her rooms smiling. Ever
the optimist, she at least knew now that he did care enough to want
her and yet not take her up on her offer. Tomorrow she would prove
that her intuition was foolproof. Tomorrow she would suspend
time.

Learning the Duke had departed at first
light for Fontainebleau to hunt with the King surprised Estée. Her
brother made no mention of his intention to do so, but it meant
that she and Lord Vallentine could visit her ancient aunts in St.
Germain without needlessly worrying over the propriety of leaving
Antonia alone at home with the Duke and no female chaperone. Just
as her brother predicted, the Comte had also returned to Court,
most reluctantly too said his scrawled note to her. He would now be
caught up in Court duties for the rest of the week, which meant he
would be unable to carry out his threat and remove Antonia from the
hôtel. This gave Estée even more reason to feel comfortable with
her resolve to journey to St. Germain.

Yet she wasn’t absolutely convinced in the
rightness of her decision and so was still in two minds with the
carriage loaded with portmanteaux, the driver up on his box and
Vallentine pacing the cobblestones under the portico in greatcoat
and gloves, proclaiming that if the love of his life didn’t get in
the carriage immediately they wouldn’t make St. Germain in
daylight. Antonia was finally fetched, having risen late and
breakfasted in her rooms, and Madame’s fears were finally put to
rest.

Antonia assured Madame that she felt no
apprehension at being left on her own, said she was content to
spend her time in the library reading with the Duke’s two whippets
for company. She wished the couple a safe journey. That said,
Madame hugged her, Lord Vallentine blew her a kiss and Antonia
waved the carriage out of the hôtel’s black and gold iron gates
onto the Rue St. Honoré. She then went inside and promptly told
Duvalier that all the clocks in the hôtel required their springs
and cogs be cleaned and to be sure that all the timepieces in the
Duke’s wing were removed first. They were to be taken down to the
servants’ quarters where the clockmaker could devote his time to
the task without disrupting the household.