Nine
“What is this I hear about a tertulia I have not been invited to?” A querulous voice snatched Apollo from his so-far failed attempt to recover some of the sleep he’d lost the previous night.
“It was too much to hope for a quiet morning,” he muttered as the Duchess of Sundridge strode into his study unannounced—the staff were too terrified of her to challenge her penchant for turning up at Apollo’s house whenever she wanted. “And how the hell did you hear about the tertulia? I sent the note to my loose-lipped brother only this morning.”
Cora waggled her eyebrows with mischief as she sat down in his favorite chair. “My beloved and I were at Evan’s for breakfast.”
He should’ve known not to send notes to his brother after barely having three hours of sleep. But he’d woken up with the thought of Aurora trampling around town unprotected dogging his mind. She’d taken off on him before they could talk, so he did the only thing he could, offer to host the blasted garden party.
Half of Paris had been waiting for him to host some kind of event as the new duke. He did not have the patience for a soi ree where he’d be expected to dance and make conversation, so a charity event, to benefit a worthy cause, was the perfect alternative. This didn’t mean he was in the mood to explain himself to his nearest and dearest.
“Ah, Your Grace,” Evan exclaimed from the doorway of the study, before turning to Apollo. “Not you.” Then he smiled at Cora. “I’m speaking to the duchess!” his useless brother cried out as he walked in with a grin Apollo would’ve loved to punch off his lips.
“Why are you two here? It’s barely been two hours since I sent the damned note, carajo!” he bellowed, coming to a stand so he could properly kick them out of his house. “I thought your little artist had conscripted you to a life among the proletariat,” he said to Cora, who, as expected, laughed in his face and then went to the sideboard to drink his coffee. “And you—” he pointed an accusing finger in his younger brother’s direction “—I know you’re busy trying to pull a dukedom from the sinkhole our father chucked it into, so why are you in my house discussing garden parties for doctors?” He applied his most ire-filled voice into this last part of his rant. Not that it had any effect on his unwanted guests.
“We’ve come to inquire about this new philanthropic effort of yours.” Cora slid a hand over her bespoke vest and tie, with a smug expression on her face. She had the look of a woman who had recently won a bet she’d fully anticipated winning but was still delighted to have trounced her opponents spectacularly. “It seems a bit impulsive, doesn’t it?”
Evan, that wily bastard, nodded with an expression of utter consternation. “I find it to be quite a conundrum.”
“A baffling one indeed, Lord Evan.” Cora made a show of looking between Apollo and his brother a few times, as if the conversation was so confusing she needed to get her bearings. “And given His Grace’s aversion to the person the party has been organized for, it seems—” She paused then, at an apparent loss of what word to employ for such a vexing happenstance.
“Perplexing?” Evan offered, while Apollo glared at them.
Cora applauded. Apollo didn’t think he’d ever seen the woman’s palms make contact with each other in such a manner in the months he’d known her, but here she was enraptured.
“Perplexing!” She hoisted a finger into the air with glee. “ Utterly perplexing, to see our duke so invested in assisting someone who he’s called infuriatingly abrasive—”
“And a diminutive demon,” Evan added cheerfully.
This was a gauntlet that Apollo had to very carefully make his way through. They clearly suspected something was happening between himself and Aurora. If they got even a whiff of any actual confirmation, they would run back to their respective spouses, who would make their own fuss and he’d never see the pocket-sized escape artist again.
“Are you two finished?” He made sure to appear very bored at their games.
“He’s so cross today.” Cora didn’t know the half of it. It had taken his man Jean-Louis half the morning to track down the boardinghouse Aurora was living in now. If the directions were any indication the establishment was a far cry from the town house in the Place des Vosges she’d been previously staying in.
He knew Evan and Cora had to know what happened with her family. But asking for details would only lead to more of this buffoonery. From the beginning, he’d found Aurora intriguing, then she’d come to him that night, demanding and hungry, and he’d barely been able to keep her out of his mind since. But after last night, his curiosity for Aurora Montalban had transformed into something akin to reverence. The truth of who she was, of her strength, had cracked something wide open inside him, he didn’t think could be closed again. But those reflections would be for when he didn’t have an audience, and right now, he had a building to buy.
“Duchess, I need the name of the man who helped you procure that building you very impulsively gave your lady.” He made sure to harp upon the impulsivity, in the hopes of distracting her. But Cora was like a damned hound.
“I didn’t know you were in the market for a building.” He had not been, until he’d offered one that he didn’t own to a certain doctor.
“Since when do you know all the comings and goings in my life?” he volleyed back, but Cora was much too focused on figuring out what Apollo was truly after to care about the barb.
“What kind of building exactly?” she inquired, crossing her legs. “This, too, is quite impulsive, is it not? First the charity event, now this new building.”
These two had some gall pointing a finger at him about impulsiveness, after they’d both turned their lives upside down in recent months for the sake of love.
“I’m not being impulsive,” he denied. “Besides, I’m only hosting the salon as a favor to Evan.”
As expected, his brother instantly protested.
“A favor to me?”
“Yes, to you,” Apollo declared, then pointed at each of them. “Now that both of you have fallen in love and decided to live like commoners, I’m the only one with a decent place to host the kind of people one asks money from.” He made a show of resting a hip on his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. “Which is why, as a favor, I’m offering you one of the most enviable gardens in Paris.” He waved an arm toward the windows, which displayed the north side of his very elegant grounds.
He was on the cusp of winning the argument when his aunt barreled into the room. For a second, he was tempted to jump through the window and run off to parts unknown. As expected, Cora and Evan were ecstatic to have another conspirator join them. He loves his aunt, but she was the last person he wanted nosing around any of his business with Aurora.
“Sobrino, what is this I hear about a party?”
“You’ve been saying we need to have some kind of social event,” he reminded her, which only made her scowl deepen.
“An event for you to meet a suitable bride, not to have our house overrun with scientists.” The way she said it, it made him wonder if she actually meant satanists .
His aunt, who was still standing by the door of the study, sighed heavily and shook her head like the very idea was chipping away at her soul.
She was in one of her Worth gowns, this one in pale green and silver. She looked elegant and lovely. Even at her fifty-three years a beautiful woman by any standard. The most important woman in his life. The only mother he’d known, but his aunt’s obsession with this so-called conquest of the aristocracy was beginning to wear on him.
“We are hosting the charity event, Tia,” he said with finality, and sent a warning look to his brother, who was one of his aunt’s favorites. He was grateful to his aunt. He owed her his life, but this was his house and hosting Aurora’s event was his wish. That was the end of it.
What was he supposed to do, now that he knew Aurora Montalban was putting herself in harm’s way? He knew he could not solve everything with money, because her damned pride survived on notions of merit and sacrifice.
Aurora wanted people to see the value of her work and support it. She didn’t want a handout, she wanted compatriots, and she needed a victory, more than anyone he’d ever met. And because it was his damned prerogative, he was determined to be the one to give her both.
That explanation was not one he could offer his aunt.
“He’s a bit distracted today, isn’t he?” Cora said unhelpfully.
“Because he was in the streets all night,” Tia Jimena lamented, with her eyes to the sky. “You’re supposed to be behaving respectfully, instead you are gallivanting like a sin verguenza all over Paris.”
He was starting to hate the words hunt and bride .
“Tia, as you well know, this bride hunt is not exactly a quest for a love match, and I assure you none of the gently bred ladies you keep shoving in front of me are expecting fidelity.” He thought of the hellion who had kept him from his bed most of the night and sneaked out on him before dawn and wondered what life would be like with the unpredictable Doctora Montalban.
She’d demand loyalty, of that he was certain, and, though she’d likely lash out at him for saying so, she’d expect to be satisfied. A woman of appetites and passions, and with secrets and crimes, but not ever dull, never uninteresting, not to him. Despite her efforts to appear so.
“Pero Apollo,” his aunt protested, “Lord Forsyth advised us to not host any large social events here in Paris.”
The last person he wanted in his affairs was his aunt’s new beau. The man had latched on to her in Colombia a year earlier and was now in Paris “guiding her into all the right spheres of the bon ton.”
He was insufferable and much too slick for Apollo’s comfort, but his aunt was fond of him, and he wanted to see her happy. But he was not going to allow Philip Carlyle, some two-bit baronet, into his affairs.
“This event is my business, Tia,” he said, short on patience. “We already have everyone with a fortune and marriageable offspring coming to Nice, don’t we?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “Vamos Vieja,” he said, vying for a more cajoling tone, and went over to put an arm around her.
“Don’t try to soften me up,” she groused, even as she patted his cheek. “I just want everything to go perfectly, mijo.” He knew it was true. This was what she’d wanted for him all his life, for him to claim his rightful place. But he had to do it on his terms and not those of the ton.
Which reminded him of what Aurora said to him about remembering there was power beyond the British Isles. It had been some of the best advice he’d received since he’d become duke.
“Besides, inviting some of the leading businessmen of the continent and the Americas who are here for the closing of the exposition to join a worthy cause will not hurt me in any way.” He knew that would do the trick, instantly her eyes lit up.
“Well, that is different, isn’t it?” She lifted her face and Apollo dutifully lowered his cheek. “We want you to appear generous.”
“And with half of the daughters of these new business magnates marrying aristocrats, we might have a house full of ladies and lords, Tia,” Evan chimed in, in Spanish , because the man had become an unrepentant adulator of any women hailing from the tropics he encountered. Of course, his aunt ate it all up, sending the cabrón a besotted smile.
“Your Spanish is improving so quickly, Lord Evan.”
“Stop encouraging him, Tia,” Apollo teased.
But it was true that his Scottish brother had taken to his wife’s—and Apollo’s—Caribbean culture a little too well. The man was so obsessed with his woman that he was on a mission to absorb every part of her. He was learning Spanish, practicing the dances, demanding their cook learn her favorite dishes, everything he could to make her new home familiar.
It was as if he wanted to immerse himself in her. It was as if Evan’s life had been devoid of a North Star until Luz Alana assumed that place. Which was all well and good, but what if she was suddenly gone? What if she stopped loving him? What then?
That kind of love, that level of devotion was terrifying to Apollo. Like walking along a very steep, very high cliff with no protection. He enjoyed a risky business proposition, had reaped the benefits of many ventures of that nature. With people, he liked safer bets, like potential entanglements with women who had less use for marriage than he did. Once he managed to track her down, that was.
* * *
Aurora walked briskly along the pedestrian walk, lost in her thoughts, as she made her way to her rooms. Next to her, Abelardo seemed to be equally vexed.
“What are we to do?” Aurora asked as they rounded the corner leading to her boardinghouse. They’d just spent two discouraging hours visiting apothecaries. Their intention had been to ask some questions about any new doctors providing services for women. Not only had they learned nothing in that regard, but their most reliable supplier for the materials they needed to make their contraceptive tinctures and pessaries informed them they could no longer do so.
“I don’t know,” Abelardo answered, with a weary sigh. “This is the second apothecary we’ve lost in the last three months.” One more problem to add to the mountain of them they seemed to be constantly managing. They had a very small reserve that could keep them afloat for a couple of weeks. After that, they’d have to send their patients to take their chances on unknown vendors.
“We have to find our own supplier of the herbs,” she mused. Abelardo didn’t speak, which Aurora took as tacit agreement. “It’s too risky to continue to rely on apothecaries that can refuse to supply us at any time.”
“It would make things easier,” he admitted.
“The apothecaries are under as much scrutiny as we are, they’re no longer dependable,” Aurora added, her stomach in knots as she considered their situation. It was true the establishments were taking risks by working with them. It only took one complaint to the authorities to make trouble for a business.
“There must be someone at one of the markets that can help us,” Abelardo mused, as they trudged up one of the steep hills of their neighborhood.
She didn’t answer, thinking that however it was one went about finding a supplier, it would likely require funds.
“We have the charity event, which will help,” Abelardo reminded her, with a pointed look she ignored. Then instantly recalled the invitation in her Gladstone she’d received from Luz Alana that morning.
The Honorable Earl and Lady Darnick with His Grace, the Duke of Annan, cordially invite you for an evening to honor physicians and scientists from the Americas at his residence…
She’d not heard from him since the morning she’d left his apartment. Who could blame him, after she’d run out on him like she had?
She’d felt bold enough after her talk with the Leonas. She’d been determined to brazenly make him a proposition the next time they met. But after two days without a single word, she was beginning to wonder if all she was to him was a charity case.
Apollo César Sinclair Robles kept her in a constant state of turmoil. She craved his attention but didn’t want to crave it too much. She wanted him but didn’t want to have to tell him she did. Mostly she was irritated by how much she longed to see him again. But it seemed she was the only one who felt that way and she refused to throw herself at him again.
A whistle and sound of surprise from Abelardo rescued her from further agonizing thoughts about the Duke of Annan.
“Someone’s got a fancy suitor,” her colleague commented, lifting his chin to the carriage sitting in front of her boardinghouse. It was probably for her landlady, a famed former courtesan.
“Claudine has many friends among the higher echelons,” she told Abelardo, as she inspected the crest on the side. There was a chance it could be Manuela, but she didn’t recognize the seal, or the impressively large man standing by the conveyance. She also noticed the stranger was not merely standing there, he was on the lookout. Watching every person who entered Claudine’s like a hawk. For some reason, the realization made her slow her steps.
For a moment she considered the possibility this could be Philip coming to harass her, but how would he know she was in Paris? And it wasn’t as if he’d ever attempted to contact her before. No, she was certain whatever her brothers had done to send the man away thirteen years ago would keep him away for good. It could be her brothers, but they would be the ones standing guard at the door, not that they would ever make the trip across the Atlantic to see her.
“Do you know him?” Abelardo inquired, then took a cautionary step back when the man waved at her in greeting.
“I do not.” He was quite focused on them. He’d pushed off the carriage and was now standing between them and the entrance to her house.
“Doctora Montalban?” Relief coursed through her when he addressed her by her title, then felt a little silly for suspecting the man. This had to be about a patient. She almost laughed with embarrassment at her fretting. It was true that she didn’t have any patients with such fancy modes of transportation, but it could be a referral.
“I’m Doctora Montalban,” she offered, deciding in this instance to be honest. “This must be about a patient,” she said, turning to Abelardo.
The big man frowned at that. “No, ma’am. The Duke of Annan has sent his brougham for you.” The mention of the man sent a jolt through her system, she could feel her pulse racing. While Abelardo made a sound of distress, then took a much bigger step away. So large, in fact, he was now on the street.
“And where exactly am I to go, unchaperoned, in the duke’s brougham?” She could practically hear Apollo laughing at her for that.
Undaunted by her corrosive tone, the duke’s messenger pulled out a small envelope from his coat jacket and handed it to her. She took it, but only after making her discontent known to the man as she opened the missive. There were only four sentences.
Fiera,
You are an exceedingly troublesome woman to pin down.
Your first lesson awaits.
Make sure to bring that devilish temper and tongue of yours. I’ve missed them.
AC
He’d signed his initials, as if he was a regular person. She only wished her body would react in a proper manner to the man’s high-handedness. Rage and fury were the only suitable responses to this. Instead, her belly swooped with frustrating anticipation, and she was quite certain a humiliating flush was even now rushing to her cheeks.
“Thank you for this,” she said, sliding the note into her pocket and turning toward the door of her boardinghouse. “I will respond to His Grace at my convenience.” When she tried to take a step in the direction of the building, the man blocked her path. “Get out of my way, sir.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, madame,” the man informed her. “You see, I’ve been tasked with bringing your good self to the duque.” His tone was not exactly menacing, but she had the sense that she would find herself in that carriage whether she went peacefully or not. It would not be peacefully.
Who did the Duke of Annan think he was?
“I think you should go see what it’s about,” Abelardo advised from his place on the street.
She rounded on her so-called friend. “Truly, Abelardo? You’re fine with an aristocrat having me abducted?” she asked incredulously and obtained a shrug and a smile for her trouble.
“He seemed quite taken with you that night at Le Bureau.”
This was what she got for letting one act of kindness blind her to Apollo’s manipulation and high-handedness. Just because she’d made an agreement with the man didn’t mean she was at his beck and call.
“Tell the duke I’m indisposed at the moment,” she told the large man, very cordially, given her mood. “I will send a note when I’m available.” Aurora was sidestepping him with the intention of going home when she was lifted off the ground.
“What are you doing?” she demanded as she was hauled up to the carriage and unceremoniously dumped on a bench seat.
“Delivering you to the duque?” the brute said, with a grin, as she bounced on the seat like a rag doll.
This was absolutely unacceptable. She would not be carted around like a damned parcel whenever Apollo deigned to summon her.
“I would like to get out of this conveyance,” she told Apollo’s lummox, who closed the door in her face.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the giant responded. He had very white teeth and he seemed to be enjoying his task a little too much. Aurora was close to combusting from pure fury.
“Abelardo, do something!” she pleaded, as the conveyance pulled away. But her colleague was waving at her as if she was about to depart on a pleasure cruise.
“This is the leisure Virginia was referring to!” Abelardo called out as the conveyance moved forward. “I’ll let Claudine know you won’t be in for supper.”
“Tell her I’m being kidnapped!” Aurora shouted, hanging from the window, but Abelardo was already skipping up the steps to the boardinghouse and the carriage halfway down the street.