Page 21 of A Royally Fake French Menage
Or not.
CHAPTER NINE
BARCLAY
Ididn’t see Genie during the day. Jacques, either. My clothes were laid out on the bed as I’d expect of Jacques’s perfect service even after my rudeness from before. The only company I had while I ate was from Monique who was clearly in a mood. Maids skittered around her in a flurry to finish their work while she belted out insults willy-nilly. I didn’t blame them for their scurrying in the least.
Whispers abounded about a fight between guests. I was far from immune to a little castle—I beg your pardon, chateau, I was in the wrong country in my head yet again—gossip. After I finished my toasted salmon baguette I requested for dinner, I rose and nodded to the man who collected my plates, speaking in an undertone. “Thank you. I am sorry.Shewon’t be here much longer. You may share that with the staff.”
I didn’t care if the rumor got back to Monique or not. Last night and this morning gave me time to clear my head, and rational thought took over once my little tanty time alone in the labyrinth passed. Monique didn’t belong in the house. Having itempty was preferable to the bitch who commanded my staff like they were less than stray dogs.
The man nodded at me. His brow dipped. “Monsieur le Marquis,” he murmured, his form of the correct address that both Jacques and Genie ignored—one out of playtime and one of ignorance, not that I cared. “Your guests…”
“Ah. I did wonder when this would come up. Please. Enlighten me.”
“They fought.” He fidgeted on the spot.
I raised an eyebrow. “Did she…slap him?”
The man shook his head.
My lips twitched. “Did he slapher?” I’d have words with Jacques if that was the case. He’d apologize profusely, on his knees with his head between her legs for the next month, even if I had to haul his ass back to the States for him to complete his task in person.
Another shake of his head.
I sighed. “Please continue to enlighten me…” I searched my memory for the man’s name and came up blank.Damnit, Jacques was right. I’d been away for far too long.
“They fought with…” He winced. I waited. He took a breath. “Swords, M- Monsieur le Marquis,” he stammered out.
Both of my eyebrows shot for the fresco above my head. “Swords?” A smile tugged at my lips.What in the hell did Jacques put her up to?“And did they draw blood?”
“Y- yes, Marquis?—”
“What?” I frowned at him. “Who?”
“M-Madame Lockwood, Monsieur le Marquis.”
I closed my eyes, tired of all the titles and guff, even as a huff left me. “Of course, she did.” I had wondered when the French in her would surface. We played the game, let her be who she wanted to be. Interesting that she chose that moment and that opponent to let her hand show.
And who she fought with on those grounds.
The threat she saw to her happiness. And mine.
I swallowed hard.
“I’m getting rid of that fucking title,” I murmured to the air in general, uncaring who heard me.
The man’s eyes widened as he stumbled backward, pretending not to have heard my ruminations as a good house staff should, mumbling his appreciation for my presence.
I shook my head. “This place is a mausoleum,” I growled. “The only people living here are already dead inside.” I stalked through the poached salmon-and-cyan room and ran smack into the monster of the house.
“We need to talk about last night,” she hissed at me in French.
I tilted my head to one side, taking in her pink and blue dress that matched Genie’s colors from the previous day, knowing she wouldn't wear them again.Always a step behind, never in front.“You’re right.”
Surprise took Monique back a step. She recovered, but with little grace. “I’m glad you agree. Why don’t we work in the salon?”
In all that salmon paint and blue carpet that edged its way across the entire bottom floor? Last night’s dinner flitted about my stomach in protest. “Here will do just fine. I’ll be brief, Monique. Your party last night was the perfect example of what this household shouldn’t deal with ever again. You are not of noble line, and three weeks of a gold digging based marriage doesn’t count in the least. If my English cousins or their family came to visit, you would host them disgracefully. I can’t have your lack of breeding and social etiquette besmirch the family line. In fact, I felt sorry for you, when my father first passed. But this trip has been…illuminating. You may stay tonight and leave early tomorrow. At sunrise please, so you don’t disturb the staffin full. Your luggage will be searched. If a single item is found in your possession that you did not arrive with, I will have you arrested.”
