Romancing Lady Stone (A School of Gallantry Novella) (17 page)

Lifting his cane up toward his face, Duc de Andelot edged the gold handle across the left side of his tied mask, causing it to shift. “This.”

Konstantin couldn’t imagine living a life behind a mask and genuinely felt angst for the man.

The duc lowered the cane from his mask.

Konstantin gripped the book hard. “Forgive me for prying, but what actually happened between you and her?”

“Too much.” The duc paused, clearly drifting to another place and another time. Those eyes became flat. Unreadable. “When I was much younger, even younger than you are now, I was living two separate lives. One for my father and one for myself. Thérèse was the woman I wanted to marry but couldn’t. And when she became pregnant, everything fell apart.”

The duc leaned back against the seat, his voice growing ragged, “She refused to accept what our relationship really was. She wanted to be more than a mistress. She wanted us to marry. If I had been anyone else, anyone but third cousin to the King, I would have. But I knew what her life would have turned into and I was trying to keep her safe from my father. She, of course, did not see it that way and not only kept me from seeing my own son, but allowed herself to become the most sought after woman in all of France. God help me, I was so angry with her for becoming the desire of every man. So angry. I did not want my son raised in the world she had involved herself in and even tried to reason with her about what I could offer him, but she was done with me. I wanted to take our son, but I could not rip the boy out of the arms of his mother. She loved him.”

Andelot averted his gaze to the dark night beyond the glass window at his shoulder. “I had to let them go.” Andelot seethed out a breath. “Then the Revolution swept through Paris turning my beloved France into a nation of savages. Many did not even wait for Robespierre to condemn the elite. They did it themselves. They torched homes until the summer day sky was as dark as night and tossed respectable, titled women into crowds and raped them in public whilst their husbands and children watched. Then they would butcher them all with knives out of their own kitchens. And the worst of it? They did it with pride. They did it whilst waving their blood-spattered flags.”

The duc grew quiet. Those lips parted in deep thought before he eventually whispered, “My father was arrested and guillotined. That man brutalized me my entire life –
my entire life
–but even I knew he wasn’t deserving of having his head cleaved from his shoulders. The only reason I had not been seized by the tribunal myself was because I was half-British and my mother’s entire family from England was petitioning Robespierre in exchange for favors. With what little time I had due to their petitions, I dismissed all of my servants to keep them from harm and harbored aristocrats whose names were on the list of the condemned. I tried planning an escape, but no one was willing to provide us transportation. Not even for the children. All of France had gone mad.”

Andelot rubbed at his jaw. “And that was when Thérèse re-appeared in my life. I was…
astounded
. She came to me as if she could hear my prayers drifting through a city filled with smoke. She brought food and arranged for transportation for all of us to leave the country courtesy of one of her
bourgeois
lovers. A part of me wanted to refuse her assistance, but there were others I had to think of. So I allowed for it.” Andelot rigidly tapped at his masked face. “As you can see, I barely escaped France. She never saw what was done to me. I made sure of it.”

Konstantin numbly held the book between hands that were heavy with disbelief.

Andelot lowered his gaze. Fingering his cane, he murmured, “Long after I came into wealth again, after countless years of toiling and travelling and re-investing what my mother’s family in England had generously bequeathed me, I wanted to know if she and my son…needed anything. So I hired men to find them. It took years. Unbeknownst to me, they had left France. Less than a year ago, one of the informants finally had information.”

The duc rapidly blinked. “Whilst Thérèse was fine, and I am blessed knowing it, my Henri was dead and had been for a long time. He had died here in England.” His voice cracked. “But he left behind a daughter. Maybelle. She lives with Thérèse. And that is why I am here. I want to be part of my granddaughter’s life in a way I was unable to be part of Henri’s. I simply have not been able to bring myself to knock on that door knowing I have no face and that…men still flock to Thérèse as if she were twenty.” Andelot rolled his eyes. “I have heard she associates with an array of men because of some
school
where she gives men advice on-on…
private matters
.” He shook his head. “She was always outrageous. She lived for it.” His fisted hand hit the seat hard, reverberating through the carriage. He settled himself against the seat. “I need a brandy,” he breathed out.

Of course the man needed brandy. “So you have been in London these past few months and still have not called on her or your granddaughter?”

The duc tossed his cane from one hand to the other, back and forth. “My face aside, I genuinely doubt Thérèse would permit me to have an association with Maybelle. She and I did not part on the best of terms.”

Konstantin gave him an exasperated look. “How do you know what she will or will not allow if you have not called on her?”

Andelot glanced toward the window and the night beyond.

“Call on her.” Konstantin leaned closer. “After everything you survived, including a whole revolution, there is no shame in what you endured or why you wear a mask. Call on her.”

Gently tapping the cane against the floor of the carriage, Andelot fixed his sight at nothing in particular. He kept tapping the cane against the floor. “Will you go with me if I call on them?”

Konstantin’s chest tightened. “It would be an honor. When do you want to go? Shall we go tomorrow?”

The duc’s gaze snapped toward him. “Are you mad? No. The day after. I need time to trim my hair. As do you.”

Konstantin bit back a smile. “The trimming of our hair should only take a half hour.”

Andelot lowered his chin. “Whilst I appreciate your intentions, I ask that you refrain from any further comments.”

Konstantin held up a hand and then set it against his mouth.

Two days later

At the home of Madame de Maitenon

Konstantin dragged a heavy hand through his overly arranged, tonic-fussed hair, which had been trimmed well beyond what he was used to, and warily watched the duc get up and sit in three different upholstered chairs set around the small parlor.

The duc kept shaking his head and openly muttering, “Useless. The woman’s taste in comfort is absolutely useless. These furnishings are for the devil.”

Konstantin doubted the furnishings were actually the problem.

Andelot eventually decided on a plush green, empire-style chair. He settled into it with a grunting huff and adjusted the red ribbon against his hair that held his mask in place. Crossing his polished riding boots at his ankles, the duc pulled his coat over his waist. “I cannot believe I am doing this. What if she refuses to see me?” Andelot’s blue eyes perused the doorway.

Konstantin was beginning to feel nervous for the man. “Everything will be fine. I am certain she will—”

The harried clicking of female heels against the wood floors, that hinted at a half-run, made Konstantin scramble to feet.

The duc uncrossed his boots and sat up but did not rise. “Tell me to calm down.”

“Calm down.”

“I am trying.”

Within moments, a very attractive elderly woman appeared in the doorway of the receiving room, partly out of breath with a cane in hand she leaned against for support. Her thick, silver hair was meticulously arranged in fashionable curls around her pale face. Rose-tinted silk flowers had been woven through her tresses, fashionably matching the shade of her elegant lace gown that showcased a slim, well-corseted frame. A long, expensive-looking string of pearls had been draped from her slender throat to her waist as if to emphasize and draw attention to the sizeable breasts surrounding them. Enigmatic bright blue eyes veered toward the duc.

Konstantin set his hands against his back. Waiting.

They stared wordlessly at each other in the pulsing silence.

If the tension visible between them could have been measured by the size of a flame, those stares would have created a blaze the size of whatever burned the sun.

The duc shifted his jaw beneath the mask. He rose. Adjusting his black leather gloves in the manner a duelist might, he walked toward her, his booted steps steady and determined. He paused directly before her.

Widening his muscled stance, the duc gruffly announced, “We will speak in English for the duration of this conversation. Because all things French are dead to me since I left Paris.”

She inclined her head toward him, her eyes never once leaving his masked face.

Konstantin cringed for him.

Andelot squared his jaw. “I am here because I wish to see my granddaughter. I wish to have the sort of relationship with her that you never allowed me to have with my son. I know I am asking for a lot, given how we parted, but I believe I have long since grown as a man and am worthy of that honor.”

In a sultry French-accented voice, she announced breathily, “I never thought I would see you again.” Madame de Maitenon searched the duc’s masked face. “You look well for yourself.”

The duc snorted and leaned in. “Oh, come, my dear. You need not lie. In answer to the question you have not asked, beneath this mask, half my face is gone.”

Madame de Maitenon’s expression stilled.

Andelot cleared his throat and tugged on his coat. “Can I meet my granddaughter? Is that at all a possibility?”

She brought her hands together and softly said, “Maybelle has left London with her husband.”

The duc’s lips parted below the mask. “She is married?”

“Yes. She married quite recently.”

“And is she happy with the union?”

“Yes. Very.”

“Ah.” He half-nodded. “I am glad to hear it.” He hesitated. “Who did she marry?”

“His Grace the Duke of Rutherford. They are currently on tour and will be visiting every city in Europe before travelling into Egypt. They are not expected to return for another eight months. When she does arrive back into London, you may call on her. I have no doubt she would want to meet her
grandpére
. As such, I will…I will gladly notify you the moment she returns into town.”

A breath escaped the duke. “I would appreciate that.”

She nodded. “Where shall I send the missive when she arrives, Gérard? So she might call on you in person?”

The duc hesitated and lowered his chin. “I am living at 32 Belgrave Square. I ask, however, that you do not address me by my birth name. It would give me too much hope.”

Madame de Maitenon said nothing.

Andelot set his shoulders and after a few pulsing moments offered, “I thank you for your time, Madame. It was an honor to see you.”

Her blue eyes softened. “And you.”

Konstantin felt like he was watching something he shouldn’t. It felt very
personal
.

Andelot inclined his head. “I wish you a good-day.” He rigidly rounded Madame de Maitenon, brushing past her. Disappearing into the corridor, he called out, “Levin, in case you have not noticed, I am leaving.” The man opened the door to the entrance and walked out, leaving the door wide open, allowing the afternoon summer air and wind to blow in.

The elderly woman glanced toward Konstantin, tears now visibly gathering in those overwhelmed bright blue eyes. She pursed her lips in a noble attempt not to cry.

Konstantin swallowed. “He needed to see you. He was sitting in a carriage outside your window every night for weeks.”

A trembling hand touched her face as she blindly attempted to use the cane to walk to a chair. A sob escaped her.

Konstantin darted toward her and grabbed her hand and her corseted waist, knowing full well she wasn’t going to make it. He turned her and gently eased her into the nearest chair, his chest tightening.

She swiped at her tears with one hand, her manicured fingers trembling. She grabbed Konstantin’s arm, searching his face with a tear-streaked pale face that flickered with distraught emotion. “Where did the scarring come from? The ones hidden beneath the mask? What happened to him?”