Chapter Sixteen #2
He shook himself out of his spell, and gave her a bow.
‘How could I not? Mademoiselle Aurac. Oh, no, I know you are Madame now.’ She held out her dark-gloved hand, and he had to take it, to feel that touch that had once meant everything to him.
‘I am most happy to see you looking so well, though I think you might be in Bath to recover from a loss?’ He gestured to her black garb.
‘Yes.’ She fluttered her black lace fan, studying him over its edge.
‘My husband sadly departed this world a few months ago. I have been quite lost without him, and my doctor told me the waters of Bath would greatly benefit me.’ She touched his sleeve.
‘It is such a delightful relief to find an old friend here! The years have certainly been kind to you, Alain.’ Her eyes slid over him, lower, lower. ‘Most kind indeed.’
Once, her attention, her admiration, would have been all he longed for. Now, though, the frozen moment of shock at seeing her again flowed away, and he was back to himself, the Alain who was here now. The Alain who had grown, changed, learned. The one who knew what real love was.
The Alain who had just kissed Sandrine, held her in his arms. The force of his feelings for her made what he’d once known of Danielle, what he’d once thought so vital in the world, pale and pallid.
But she had once meant a great deal to him; her family and their school had once been his refuge. He owed her friendship, surely. Owed it to her to help her in her bereavement, if he could. Surely that was all she expected.
He smiled at her, his face feeling tight, forced, and held out his arm for her to take. ‘Shall we walk for a bit? I am eager to hear how you fare, Lady Darby.’
She smiled up at him, a flash of relief, flirtation. She slid her hand over his sleeve, her fingers curling over it. ‘Oh, Alain, do call me Danielle. We are such old friends, we were once so very—so very close.’
‘Once, perhaps.’ He glanced up to sweep a look around the party. Francoise watched him with wide, shocked eyes, but Sandrine was not there. ‘Tell me, then, what besides your doctor’s orders brings you to Bath? I hope you are not unwell.’
‘Oh, no, my physical health is excellent. I have come to stay with friends, who have kindly extended an invitation for the rest of the winter.’ She waved her fan at the group she had appeared at the party with.
‘I have been a sad wanderer since my husband died, never quite sure where I should alight. Where I might belong.’ A flash of sadness, almost despair, flickered over her face.
They had once been such friends; Alain was worried about her now.
‘You seek a new home? Perhaps one without so many memories?’ he said gently.
‘Exactly so, Alain. How understanding you have always been!’ She squeezed his arm, smiling lightly again.
‘I did love my home with my husband, his lovely estate where we were so happy together. Everyone there loved me, said I made their lives so much brighter! But my poor husband was rather older than me, and the estate went to his son and his wife, who was not so fond of the tenants and servants as I was. There was little room for me there, and, while I have a small income, there was no suitable dower house. I must wander now, and find my place again.’
‘How could you fail to do so?’ he said, automatically chivalrous. There were so many memories crowding in on him, of walks with Danielle, soft conversations, yearnings and hopes, and disillusionment.
She laughed. ‘Dearest Alain. I am so happy to find you again! What a kind friend you always were. But then, you must know how it feels to be quite adrift. I heard you have been travelling for many years, seeing all the world.’
‘Not quite all of it. I have seen some glorious sights, yes, and have been learning a great deal. Both of work and of life.’ And he had learned the value of real love. If only he had seen it so much sooner.
‘You have truly accomplished so much. My grandfather would be proud to see it. You were always his favourite pupil.’
‘He was an excellent teacher. You must miss him.’
‘Indeed. My life has never quite steadied since he left us.’ She stopped, tugging at his arm to keep him by her side, staring up at him intently.
‘Now it feels like those beautiful times again, seeing you here, Alain. I have missed you so much! Such regrets I have had. So much I long to say to you.’
Alain, too, was beset with regrets. He thought they were not at all the same as whatever Danielle held on to now. He only regretted losing what could have been with Sandrine.
‘We are very different people from who we were then,’ he said.
‘They were good times. You must let me see you again, talk of it all.’
‘We are talking now.’
She shook her head and slid a step closer to him. Her heady gardenia scent wrapped around them. ‘Not like this. I have things I must say. I beg you, for the sake of our past. Of our possible future?’
She looked so desperate in that moment, so sad, and Alain remembered what he owed her grandfather. ‘Very well. Shall we walk in Sydney Gardens tomorrow?’
‘Oh, Alain. Yes. I will find you there.’ She touched his sleeve again, her fingers curling into him. ‘You have been a good friend.’
He had to be away from her, to listen to his wan thoughts. Fortunately, her friends came seeking her then, and Francoise came and dragged him away through the crowd.
‘Here, brother, you look as if you could use this,’ she said, and pressed a wine glass into his hand.
‘Merci.’ He took a deep swallow, and looked around for Sandrine. He was desperate to see her, to tell her what he knew now—he loved her, only her. He always had.
‘She left a while ago. She did look rather pale,’ Francoise said. She watched him with narrowed eyes, as if she knew. As if she was disappointed in him. ‘It has become rather crowded at this party.’
Had she seen him with Danielle? Had he made a hash of things yet again? He had to make things right! ‘I must find her…’
‘I am sure her carriage has already departed. And really, Alain, sometimes a lady just needs a moment alone.’
He was puzzled. ‘Alone for what?’
Francoise sighed and shook her head. ‘Oh, Alain. Was that not Danielle Aurac you were walking with just now? What a surprise to see her here in Bath, after all this time.’
‘Yes, a great surprise.’
She took his arm and walked him, marched him, around the room. ‘I heard that her late husband left her in quite perilous straits. So very sad. I am sure she will find a new match soon enough.’
He studied her closely, and she smiled innocently. ‘You’ve heard all that already?’
‘I am to be a diplomat’s wife! I must observe and listen to everything. Mrs Patterson over there told me, and you know she is quite the Bath gossip. I might have mentioned I used to know Danielle and was concerned. She is staying in a room at Trim Street.’
‘Trim Street? She said she was with friends.’ He felt a great wave of pity she should live in such an area, all alone. ‘Surely her stepson would not have let her be so poorly provided for?’
Francoise shrugged. ‘You would think not, of course. But before her husband died, she lived for a time in London. Alone. And was good friends with a rather rakish earl.’
‘Friends?’
‘With her beauty, you would imagine she could find a duke!’ Francoise spoke lightly, but watched him closely, as if she tried to read something.
‘It was quite an on dit for a while, until her husband died and things became quiet once more. The earl married, it seems, and maybe she is seeking a smaller pool to find connections. Bath has its share of titles in the Assembly Rooms and Pump Room.’
‘Francoise! How naughty you have become!’ he exclaimed.
‘It’s only what I’ve heard! And she really has just come from London. I’m not sure it’s true, but do be careful.’
‘I am always careful.’
‘Alain, I know how you once felt for her. How you were infatuated…’
‘It was a long time ago when I knew her.’ And he had Sandrine now.
‘I was young, not blind. And also…’ She leaned closer to whisper, ‘I heard our parents talking of their worries. Of their hopes for your marriage.’
‘Their hopes?’ And what of his hopes? Had he destroyed them so utterly?
‘I understand, Alain, I do! She was—is—so very beautiful. If the gossip is true, though, she used her husband and the earl shamefully, and now she needs someone else. Someone like you.’
‘Give me some credit. I am older and wiser now.’
‘Alain. Your heart is too kind. I know you like to think yourself quite hard and cynical, but it is not so. You are a romantic. You were close to Monsieur Aurac, and I know you might once have wished to be close to his granddaughter. You feel obligated to that memory. But you have Sandrine now! You must think of her. She is so splendid.’
Yes. He had Sandrine to think of now, and Marie. They had become everything to him. ‘You are wrong, Francoise.’
She scowled. ‘Wrong? Me?’
‘Sandrine is more than splendid. She is utterly magnificent. I would never do anything to hurt her again. I did that once, and it broke my heart and soul. I have truly changed now. I see the truth.’
She patted his arm gently. ‘That is true. But you really were in such close conversation with Danielle just now. It looked rather…intimate.’
He panicked at the tone of her voice. ‘Did Sandrine see? What did she think?’
‘I am not sure. Probably. You know how Bath enjoys its gossip. How it spreads like a flood. There are many missteps that can be made. So many ways to hurt the innocent all over again. You worry about Danielle, I know. But don’t let the past ruin the present, and the future, Alain. I beg you.’