Chapter 4 #2
As soon as Giles nodded and headed off to take care of his other duties, Yves took up the letter and opened it.
“My dearest Yves,
I know that there is still a great deal of fear and resentment in your heart where our brother is concerned and I do not fault you for it one bit.
We both know that Guillame was cruel and wicked.
He threatened your life and happiness with one hand, and with the other he tormented his poor wife, Charlotte, with numerous affairs and financial ruin.
Every moment of our brother’s life was unconscionable.
As wicked as Guillame was, his funeral is to be held today.
Though I know it is not required of you, and while I will have Phillip and the children by my side, I would so like for you to be there with me.
Additionally, as Charlotte has given me to understand, there is a great deal that needs to be addressed with the Clermont family finances.
Charlotte cannot afford a solicitor on her own, but I suggested that you might be of some help.
I do understand the situation you find yourself in, however, and if you do not wish to emerge from your shelter just yet, I will not hold any ill feelings toward you.
Your loving sister, Yvette.”
Yves made a sad noise as he finished the letter, then clapped a hand over his mouth and glanced around to see if anyone had heard him. It was still early and there were only a few others enjoying their breakfast, and none of them seemed to notice.
Yves did not remove his hand from his mouth as he read his sister’s letter a second time.
He was deeply worried that the emotions his sister’s words raised in him would cause him to weep in public if he was not careful.
For it was obvious that Yvette needed him, today and always, and he had become as useless to her as could be.
He could not sit where he was any longer, as safe as it might be. He had his sister and his brother’s wife waiting for him, not to mention nieces and nephews, two of whom he’d never met. The time for his self-imposed incarceration to end was upon him, whether he felt ready for it or not.
He’d barely touched his breakfast, but he hardly cared. He pushed his chair back and all but jumped to his feet.
And as soon as he did, it was as if his legs refused to carry him.
He wobbled slightly, leaning against the table and breathing heavily for a moment.
But only a moment before forcing himself to stand straight.
He could do this. He could muster up the courage he’d lost three years ago and leave The Chameleon Club to see his sister.
With a deep breath, he tugged at the hem of his jacket with one hand, still holding Yvette’s letter in the other.
He fixed his gaze on the doorway leading out to the club’s main hall, then forced himself to walk that way with single-minded focus.
Some his friends noticed him and watched as they continued their conversations.
Only a few of them might have had any notion of the significance of what Yves was about to attempt.
It was a sign of how scattered his mind truly was that he did not return to his room to fetch his coat and hat.
He marched straight down the hallway, into the lobby, and up to the door that had separated him from the cruel, outside world for the last three years.
His breath barely seemed to enter or leave his lungs as he reached for the handle, then tightened his grip to the point where his knuckles went white.
It took a few more, long seconds before he found the strength to turn the handle and more time still until he was able to open the door.
“Clermont?” Bradford’s deep voice sounded from somewhere behind him as Yves stared out into the cold bustle of Park Lane in the morning.
He ignored Bradford, barely hearing him.
Yvette needed him. He had to leave The Chameleon Club at last. He was a fool and a coward for succumbing to the crippling fear that struck him every time he so much as looked through an open door to the outside world or felt the air on his face. He had to do it though.
With a tight whimper that came from a primal place within him, Yves stepped over the threshold of the club and out onto the wide stretch of flagstones that separated the club from the street.
Panic hit him as soon as he was two steps outside the door.
They would find him. The police would be waiting around the corner to arrest him.
He would not even be tried before they would string him up and kill him simply for being who he was and loving who he did.
“Clermont, you are not wearing a coat.” Bradford’s voice sounded a thousand miles away.
Yves made another, frightened sound and stepped out farther. He could not even remember where he was going now or why. He only knew that he’d left the one place in the world that was safe, the one place where he would not be snatched up and dragged to the gallows.
He took a few more steps, but panic overwhelmed him and his knees turned to jelly. He could not breathe either. His next step saw him spilling to the ground as if he’d been felled by a blow to the head. He cried out, more from fear than from pain as he crumpled into a ball on the pavement.
“Clermont!” Bradford shouted behind him.
Yves began to shake all over. He was going to be sick. He could not breathe. He was about to pass out. The world was about to implode upon him. He never should have left the one place he was safe.
The edges of Yves’ vision began to go black, but a moment before he passed out, strong, warm arms closed around him and Bradford drew him close.
“I’ve got you,” Bradford said in a voice as gentle as a caress. “There, there.”
Twin feelings of relief and humiliation struck Yves as Bradford lifted him into his arms and carried him back into the club.
How wonderful that an angel had come to rescue him, and how mortifying that Howard Bradford, who had just given him the best night of his life, had seen him fall apart so completely.