Page 86 of Miss Desirable
“As far as I am concerned,” Fournier said, “this precious child is free to speak her mind in any civil manner she chooses.”
“She is not your daughter,” Armbruster all but shouted. “That is… Catherine, what the hell is going on?”
Catherine petted her mare. “War and other exigencies apparently separated the girl from her family, but the war is over now, and she can be with those who love her. A happy occasion, one would think.”
“Just so,” Fournier said. “The child’s earliest years were made difficult by all manner of tribulations, but that is all behind us.” He hugged Marie, and she cuddled into his embrace with a giggle.
“You cannot do this,” Armbruster snarled. “Tell him, Catherine. That is not his get. That is your daughter, and you cannot allow this, this… wine peddler to steal her from you.”
Catherine nudged Franny closer to Bertold and turned her gaze directly on the child. “My dear, can you recall seeing me on any occasion prior to today?”
“Non, mademoiselle, though you are very pretty.”
Minx.“There, you see?” Fournier said. “Armbruster, you must compose yourself and apologize to Miss Fairchild for your wild imaginings.”
Four horsemen—Casriel, Kettering, Sycamore, and Ash—had sidled closer to the discussion. They halted their steeds a few yards behind Bertold, and the look in Sycamore’s eye in particular should have shut Armbruster’s stupid mouth.
“Catherine has agreed to marry me,” Armbruster said, his horse once again fidgeting. “That is her daughter, and if you persist with these outrageous lies, I will ensure that she never sees that girl again.”
“Calm yourself,” Catherine snapped. “That is no sort of talk to air before a child. The settlement negotiations are not concluded, and if Monsieur Fournier says he is the child’s father, then who are you to gainsay him?”
Armbruster’s expression became murderous, and yet, he did not admit his own role in Marie’s life. The Dornings chose that moment to advance a few more steps, which only caused Armbruster’s horse to begin wringing its tail and propping.
“I agree with Miss Fairchild,” Fournier said. “This is not a discussion to have in the presence of the child for whom I would give my life and my fortune. Compose yourself, Armbruster, and apologize to the ladies.”
Armbruster gave the reins a vicious jerk. The horse kicked out, then stilled. “I will do no such thing. Miss Fairchild has either played me false or lied monstrously. I am the wronged party here. If you say otherwise, then I will have satisfaction from you, Fournier.”
Finally.Marie stretched up to whisper in Fournier’s ear.
“I am instructed to be patient and polite,” he said, “as you should be. You may continue your tantrum some other day and go have a snack and a nap. My friends will see Miss Fairchild home.”
Armbruster seemed to notice the Dornings for the first time. “You shall meet me, Fournier, else I will put a notice in theTimesthat you are the veriest poltroon and your wine isn’t fit for French hogs.”
Some Dorning or other cursed quietly, and a few passing equestrians had noticed that a situation was brewing. Catherine sat as cool as a barberry ice on her mare, and Marie had begun to braid a swath of Bertold’s mane.
The ladies had confidence in Fournier apparently. What a fine thing, to be needed and valued and trusted by the people he loved most in the whole world.
“I won’t let monsieur kill you, my lord,” Catherine said. “Fournier, you have been challenged. I believe the choice of weapons is yours.”
Armbruster looked at her as if she’d slapped him with her own glove. “You are enjoying this.”
Catherine’s beautiful eyes acquired a hint of deviltry. “Half of Hyde Park will soon be enjoying the spectacleyouhave created, my lord.”
And that would not do, for a lady’s name to be involved in a matter of honor. “I choose the rapier,” Fournier said. “My little darling and I are off to enjoy a fine breakfast. Mr. Ash Dorning and Mr. Sycamore Dorning will serve as my seconds. Our outing is concluded,mapetite. The park grows too crowded for a good gallop, and Bertold longs for his oats. Lord Casriel will see Miss Fairchild safely returned to her home. His brothers have matters to discuss with Lord Fortescue.”
The child waved her farewell to Catherine, who waved back and sent Franny toddling down the path beside Lord Casriel’s fine gelding. Fournier directed Bertold toward the gates, while Kettering, Sycamore, and Ash went about the delicate business of setting up a discreet, private duel such that the male half of London would know exactly where and when the combatants were to meet.
* * *
“You were supposed to leave Marie at the château,” Catherine said, arms lashed about Fournier’s waist. “You brought my darling girl to me and presented yourself as her father. Why on earth would you go to all that trouble in addition to the trouble I asked you to take on?”
Fournier stroked her hair, and some of the tumult of the past weeks subsided at his touch.
“We were pursued,mon coeur. Nanette at The Boar’s Bride apparently told Armbruster the wrong address, but she could not tell him the wrong town. Ablesdorf caught sight of my coach as I was leaving Cahors with Marie. He trailed us to the château, and spiriting Marie out of France became the wisest course.”
“And telling Armbruster she was your daughter? We did not discuss that, Fournier. That was very bold of you.”
“Are you angry?”
