The Price of Innocence (The Legacy Series) (27 page)

Suzette, who was now spoiled and dependent upon the rich lord, had fallen head-over-heels in love with her benefactor. Robert continued to provide for her every need, visiting her bed whenever possible. She blindly believed his feigned excuses when he needed to leave. He merely spoke of his father’s illness and matters that required attention. Suzette felt sorry for him and encouraged him to go home.

When Robert was in London, the two were inseparable. Practically living at her small cottage on the outskirts of town, Robert discreetly took her to the horse track and casinos, knowing that most men frequented them with their mistresses on their arms. However, he purposely refrained from expensive restaurants and the theatre, circumventing places where those in society knew him personally—the places he took Lady Spencer when she visited London.

Suzette, during his absence, busied herself with handcrafts, embroidery being her favorite, as well as tending a garden of flowers that included a wide assortment of lilies. She had no need to look for employment or even consider such a change in lifestyle, for Robert took care of everything. The matter was never discussed.

She conversed very little with Madame LeBlanc, resenting the fact the woman accused her of being Robert’s mistress. Each time he arrived at the cottage, her face would smirk and her brow rise knowing his intentions. Suzette, on the other hand, refused to see their relationship as anything other than lovers, hoping one day for a proposal. She willingly allowed Robert to frequent her bed as security to seal her future.

In the process, the innocence of Suzette melted away. She had quickly become an artful lover, who failed to get her fill of Robert. In the heat of their passion, she would whisper words of love. He would respond lovingly in return, albeit never speaking the exact forbidden phrase. Suzette did not mind, for she had truly grown to love the handsome lord who saved her from the Chabanais and gave her a life of luxury and care.

Robert, on the other hand, adored and cared for her deeply. Their moments of lovemaking kept his former wayward side satisfied, although he never could consider any commitment beyond her bed chamber. It was impossible to do so, for a wedding date had been set to take Lady Spencer as his wife.

Bred to be a nobleman’s wife, he found Jacquelyn Spencer intelligent, well read, talented in the art of playing the piano, socially acceptable, and polite. Though Robert found her beautiful and her company agreeable, he felt no passion toward the woman whatsoever. His innate passions belonged to Suzette, and he truly believed he could keep her as his mistress forever.

Fate, on the other hand, had a different plan. Out of Suzette’s past, inscribed in a letter she had carefully burned at the Chabanais, another part of her life resurrected when she least expected it to happen.

* * *

The day began like any other. Robert had spent the week with Suzette but inconveniently found he was out of cigars. He decided to take her with him on a quick shopping trip into the center of London. Robert favored a particular tobacco shop, tucked down a side street that carried imported cigars to his liking.

After their arrival, he invited her to come inside, but Suzette protested. “Oh, Robert, don’t make me inhale that infernal smell,” she pleaded.

Robert laughed, frankly looking forward to a few moments alone, sniffing the various imports before he decided on a purchase. With his finger, he gently touched the tip of Suzette’s nose. “I wouldn’t think of ruining that pretty little nose of yours!”

With a quick peck on the cheek, he opened the door, and Suzette heard the ringing of the bell announcing to the proprietor a customer’s arrival. She stood outside on the sidewalk, her face tilted toward the bright noonday sun. The warmth felt heavenly as she enjoyed the last few days of summer. The leaves were just beginning to change color and autumn would soon arrive.

Suzette turned and glanced through the plate-glass window, watching Robert sniff cigars. It was a strange male art of twirling a rolled paper filled with tobacco under one’s nostrils that she would never understand. As she watched him adoringly go about smelling one after another, her attention was interrupted by a voice calling her name.

“Suzette!”

A startled gaze into the reflection of the window caused her heart to skip a beat. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she hastily reached out for the ledge of the windowpane for support.

“Suzette, is that you?”

Her throat closed, rendering her unable to make an audible sound, as she slowly turned around to face the uniformed man who stood only a few feet in front of her. At the sight of his face, the pounding in her chest increased tenfold, and her eyes widened, displaying both fear and pleasure.

“Suzette, it is you!”

The relief upon his face was evident. Suzette let out the breath she held in her lungs, and spoke softly, acknowledging his discovery.

“Hello, Philippe.”

“My God, Suzette!”

He stepped forward and embraced her, pulling her close. Suzette stumbled as the strength of his arms caught her off balance. She wanted to turn and see if Robert was watching the scene unfolding, but was helpless to do so.

Philippe immediately sensed her reluctance in returning his ardent embrace. Instead, her arms were cold and unresponsive, and the chance meeting suddenly turned awkward. He released her and stepped back, confused.

“I thought you dead,” he said, searching her eyes for emotion. “When our ship pulled into Calais for furlough, I immediately set off to Paris. I went to your father’s apartment and found another living there. You were gone.”

Suzette could only imagine what surprise and grief filled his heart.

“What happened to you?” His voice pleaded for an answer from his fiancée.

Suzette glanced away, unable to keep her eyes upon his questioning gaze.

“Many things, Philippe,” she mumbled, inhaling deeply to regain her composure. She looked at him once more, and his deep brown gaze melted her soul, as they radiated his undying love.

“Father died in his sleep. They think it was his heart or a stroke,” she conveyed, with a shaking voice.

“My God, Suzette, no,” he gasped, letting the sorrow escape his lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t know, but he was deeply in debt and his entire estate was sold, and I was left destitute.”

“But you look well now, Suzette. What are you doing in London? Why aren’t you in Paris?” Philippe’s puzzled expression revealed his confusion.

“I might ask the same of you,” Suzette retorted, a bit irritated at his questions. “What are you doing in London?”

“Our ship docked on the Thames, and I have been given a leave of absence. I searched Paris high and low for you.”

Suzette watched his facial expression change. Suddenly, he looked at her from top to bottom, surveying her clothing, expensive jewelry, and maturity about her face that he had never known before. He understood, and Suzette confirmed his suspicions.

“I waited, Philippe, but you were at sea.” Her own voice filled with desperation and excuses. “I had no means to contact you. I was left alone.”

Philippe listened to her strained explanation, and fear gripped his heart, waiting for her to say she had married another.

“I was homeless, Philippe—pitiful, alone, and homeless. The Daughters of Charity could only care for me for a few weeks, and then I was faced with life on the streets.”

Philippe abruptly interjected. “Have you found another and married? Let me see,” he said, grabbing her left hand to look for a wedding ring. He felt her bare finger underneath the glove. His eyes darted back at her dress, and his expression changed.

“You don’t need to tell me the rest, Suzette. No single woman of your means is adorned in such an expensive gown and jewels, unless you’ve become someone’s mistress.” The words cut deep, and for a brief moment, he regretted his accusation. “Tell me that I’m wrong,” he pleaded.

“Don’t judge me, Philippe. I have a wonderful man who cares for me and gives me a home. He saved me from the most horrid of lives—from a brothel!”

Philippe’s mouth opened in disbelief. “A brothel?” He stumbled over his words. “We were engaged, Suzette,” his voice pained with disappointment. “Could you not have tried to contact me?”

His disgust was evident, and Suzette’s heart sank at his judgmental tone. She turned around quickly and looked into the cigar shop. Robert was completing his purchase with the clerk.

“You must go now, Philippe. He’ll be here soon.”

“At least tell me where you live, Suzette, so I can talk to you again. Please,” his voice implored. His hand reached out and touched her arm.

“Philippe, you must leave,” she insisted. “Robert will be coming out of the store any moment!” Suzette’s face turned to panic as she did not wish the two of them to encounter one another.

“Suzette, I beg you . . . please, for our sake—for our past, your father.”

She blurted out her address. “It’s 72 Crown Lane, on the outskirts of London. For God’s sake, do not come without making arrangements first!”

As soon as the words left her lips, the door opened. Philippe released her hand from his tight grip. Robert noticed the action, bringing a displeased frown to his face.

“Is he troubling you, my dear?” Robert flung a look of agitation at the unnamed gentleman.

Suzette leaned into his body, trying to gain strength from his protection. Instinctively, he slipped his arm around her waist, claiming her as his own.

“No, Robert. It’s just a former acquaintance from my youth. We are both quite surprised to have bumped into each other, aren’t we, Philippe?”

“I see,” he said, raising his eyebrows, suspicious of her answer. “I’m Lord Robert Holland, and who might you be, sir?”

“Philippe Moreau,” he answered curtly. He felt no pleasure over the introduction, only a need to remove himself from the uncomfortable situation. “I shall take my leave,” he announced. He bowed at the waist before Suzette, saying his departing words. “I am glad to see that you are well, Mademoiselle.” Philippe turned and then quickly strode down the street and out of sight.

“Are you all right? You look pale.” Robert leaned over and kissed her cheek, waiting for her response.

“Yes, I’m quite fine. It was just a shock seeing him. I thought that he was dead.”

“Dead, you say? He looks quite alive to me—especially the way he was looking at you.”

“He’s been away at sea. He’s a Naval Lieutenant, an old friend of my father, and he was saddened to hear of his passing. He was just expressing his condolence, that’s all.” Suzette feared that Robert suspected more and lightheartedly changed the subject.

“What takes a man so long to choose a box of cigars? I’d really like to know. Don’t they all smell the alike?” She burst forth with an insincere laughter, which seemed to satisfy and allay Robert’s curiosity for the moment.

He walked her across the street to the jeweler and gazed in the showcase window, spotting an emerald broach that caught his fancy. “I say the one on the right—the broach. Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s beautiful, but you don’t have to keep buying me things. You know how I feel about you without all your gifts.”

Robert looked into Suzette’s eyes saddened by her refusal. He brushed his thumb tenderly across her cheekbone to assure her of his intent. “I need to do these things for you, my love. Don’t deny me the joy of what I can give you.”

Suzette knew in her heart Robert gained immense satisfaction in caring for her needs. At times, she felt guilty but would never spurn his display of affection. After all, she owed him her life.

“No, of course, not. I would never deny your show of love.”

Robert smiled. “Well then, let’s go look at that broach.” He opened the door to the jeweler and led her inside to purchase the most outrageous emerald broach in all of London.

* * *

Weeks passed, and no word came from Philippe, which greatly relieved Suzette’s anxiety. Robert did not pressure her about the subject, and everything returned to normal.

Feeling lucky one Saturday afternoon, Robert wished to spend the day at the horse track. Suzette agreed to accompany him for the entertainment, having learned that horses were another one of his passions in life, though not her forte.

Upon their arrival at the track, Robert escorted her to his private box and sat discreetly by her side, showing no outward affection.

“I hope you don’t mind, Suzette, if we don’t act extremely affectionate in public today. There are those who know me here, and I don’t wish to start gossip.”

Suzette felt the word
gossip
cut like a knife, and she wondered about his inference. Not wishing to start an argument, she conceded.

“Of course, Robert. I wouldn’t think of embarrassing you.”

Robert appeared distracted as the hour passed and race by race occurred. He moaned his losses and cheered at his winnings over his bets. As the fourth race was about to begin, a woman’s voice came up behind them, which startled them both.

“Brother? What are you doing here?”

Robert’s face contorted as he felt the kiss of his sister on the side of his cheek. Her hot breath whispered in his ear, “Who is this?” she said, pinching him on the shoulder. After hearing her demand for an answer, he stood and greeted her.

“Marguerite, what are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes conveying his disapproval.

“Oh, Lord Chambers brought me here for a boring afternoon of horse racing,” she said. “I just happened to arrive in London for the weekend and had intended on dropping by your townhouse.”

She looked at Suzette for a moment and then returned her eyes to her brother. “Now look, I’ve bumped into you and found you with a woman. Don’t be rude, big brother! Introduce your sister to your lady friend.”

Robert glared back at his sister with narrow eyes, expressing his displeasure. “Marguerite Holland, this is Suzette Rousseau.”

Marguerite’s brow rose. “Oh my goodness, a French Mademoiselle!” she exclaimed, eyeing her from head to toe. “Do tell, Robert, where did you two meet?”

“She’s an acquaintance,” he insisted. “A friend.”