Page 9 of The Secret of Flirting
Her grandmother preened. “Oh, Count, you always were such a flatterer.”
The rare moment of remembrance made Monique feel momentarily grateful to the man. Until she reminded herself that he and the rest of the family had exiled Grand-maman from Chanay for eloping with a common actor without her father’s permission.
Monique tamped down her anger. Grand-maman felt no resentment and never had. She’d always said she’d made her choice while fully knowing and accepting the consequences. That she would do it again, given the chance.
A thickness formed in Monique’s throat. Her grandparents had been very much in love. Still, Grand-maman’s choice had cost her time and again. Monique had learned from her example never to be so foolish as to choose romantic love over one’s family.
The servant followed his master into the room. “Do you rememberme, Princess?” the man said hopefully to Solange. “You used to call me Chanceux, because of my luck at cards. We had some merry times when you were a girl.”
Grand-maman’s blank look showed that her rare moment of clarity was gone. “I—I... yes... of course. Chanceux.” Abruptly she turned to Monique. “I’m very tired. It is late for visiting, no?”
“It is, Grand-maman.” The lump in Monique’s throat thickened even more. The old Solange would have exulted to have the royal family and retinue call on her after all these years. The new Solange barely knew who they were. “Would you like to retire now?”
“Yes.” Grand-maman flashed the two men a vague smile. “Forgive me, sirs, but I am not so young anymore, you know.”
What looked like regret crossed the count’s features. “Of course. You must rest. Sleep well, my beautiful lady.”
Solange brightened. “Thank you. I shall.”
Then she went out into the hall. Monique was torn between going after her and remaining with their guests, but Grand-maman was still capable of preparing herself for bed alone, so Monique preferred to leave her with her dignity.
As soon as the elderly woman had vanished, the count said in grave tones, “How long has she been this way?”
Monique sighed. “About five years now. It’s why we stopped touring with Grandpapa’s old acting troupe. But it’s worsened dramatically in the past year.”
He shook his head. “How sad to see such a wonderful woman brought low.”
She stiffened. How dared he? “Your concern comes a little late, sir. Where were you when her father cut her off from her family just because she chose to marry for love? Or when my mother was born, and the doctor said Grand-maman dared not have more children? Where were you when my father abandoned my mother, with me in her belly, shortly after being forced to marry her? Or when Grandpapa and Mother died of consumption, leaving Grand-maman to raise me alone?”
She faced him down. “My grandmotherisa wonderful woman. She deserved better from the Rocheforts.”
The count looked momentarily taken aback by her bitter words. They surprised her, too. She’d never felt the loss of her royal relations to any great degree. But Grand-maman had. Not enough to leave the man she loved, but still...
“Why have you come here?” she demanded. “What do you want from us?”
He pulled into himself as she’d seen her grandmother do when faced with abject impudence. Usually from Monique. “I have come to ask a favor of you.”
“You have the gall to—”
“I would make it well worth your while. And your grandmother’s.”
That gave Monique pause. More money would make things so much easier. She could hire staff to look after Grand-maman around the clock. Then she could work more, which would enable her to save more to make Grand-maman’s final days comfortable.
It had been just the two of them since Monique turned eleven. Without Grand-maman to raise her, who knew what would have become of her? Monique owed her everything. So if she had it within her means to give it to her...
Monique swallowed her pride. “What sort of favor?”
He exchanged a glance with his servant. “Do you mind if we sit down?”
“Of course not.” She gestured to the sofa and to the wine in front of it. “Forgive me. I am not used to hosting royalty.”
As her great-uncle took his seat, the servant said, “Except for your grandmother, of course. She is still a princess.”
“Is she? You wouldn’t know it to judge from how her family has treated her.” When the count began to frown again, she added hastily, “And she doesn’t consider herself one.” Monique sat down in the other chair and began to pour the wine. “That life is behind her.”
Not entirely, though. Memory played tricks on Solange these days. Sometimes it was as if the past decades had never happened and she was a girl again, frolicking in the gardens of Chanay.
“It doesn’t have to be behind her.” The count took the glass from her.
