Page 97 of The Secret of Flirting
Afraid that she might burst into tears, she turned on her heel and headed back for the door. “Well, you follow your plan. ButIam going to the count and demand that he return me to Dieppe. He can do as he wishes with me, but at least—”
“Wait, darling,please—”
“I will not!” she cried, and reached for the door handle. “There’s no reason to!”
“I love you, Monique. Isn’t that reason enough?”
For a moment, she thought she had imagined the words. She froze, her hand still on the handle. “What did you say?”
He came closer. “I love you. I’minlove with you. Or, in case you don’t understand it in English,je t’aime.”
Wary, she turned to face him. “You’re just saying that to keep me from leaving.”
“No. I do want to keep you from leaving. But that’s not why I’m saying it.” His eyes shone with sincerity. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Her pulse began to race. “How can that be?”
Uttering a self-deprecating laugh, he said, “I’m not sure. I’m still... getting used to the idea myself.” He neared her with caution, as a rider might approach a spooked mount. “I always said that love was reckless, unwise. Because my career—my ambition, as you call it—had always been about assuring outcomes, measuring risks, managing the future. Being in control.”
“The way you weren’t in control with your father,” she whispered.
He glanced away, naked vulnerability in his face. “Right.”
It should have occurred to her before. The rigid rules, the iron restraint he kept over his emotions, were necessary to him because he’d had no say over his father’s abuse, no way to change it. “Your ambition has always been about not being that little boy at the mercy of a cruel father with an unpredictable fist.”
His gaze shot to her unerringly. “Right again. About not being that little boy who’d persisted in hoping for some crumb of affection, even when the man whom he wished would offer it was incapable of that.”
A lump lodged in her throat. He was opening his heart to her, and she had never thought it would happen. Despite the frantic beating of her own heart, she kept very still, eager to hear him say it all, needing to know that he meant it.
“After Father...” He dragged in a ragged breath. “After I killed him, I swore never to let myself be that vulnerable again. Never to let my emotions guide my actions. I thought if I just worked at it, I could control how I felt, as I controlled everything else.”
A faint smile crossed his lips. “But if I’ve learned anything in the past few days, it’s that controlling one’s heart is impossible. The heart takes its own course, no matter how hard one tries to guide it. And mine...” He reached for her, his eyes luminous with emotion. “Mine set a course for you from the moment I met you. I just... didn’t want to admit it.”
“Oh, Gregory,” she whispered, lifting her hand to his cheek with the first stirrings of joy in her soul. “My heart set a course for you, too. No matter what path I take, my heart will always be yours.”
He caught her hand in his, then turned it to kiss the palm. “Then put your faith in me,mon amour.I meant it when I said I had a plan that I think will work. I’m rather adept at scheming, as you’ve noticed. But you must trust me. Can you? Because without you, my plan will surely fail.” His voice dropped into his usual ironic drawl. “And then you and I will have to escape to the Continent and leave my mother’s lovely gardens behind just so we can be together.”
“I wouldn’t want that,” she said through a voice thick with tears. Choking them down, she tried to match his tone. “You wouldn’t like living on the Continent. Too many comedies and operas being performed, and not enough tragedies.”
“I will live the rest of my days in an opera house if that’s the only way to have you as my wife,” he said fiercely, gripping her hand in both of his. “But I think we can do better. Will you let me do this for you? For us both? Will you take a chance on me?”
She hesitated only a moment before nodding. “But only if you tell me the plan. We do this together, or not at all.”
A brilliant smile broke over his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, here’s what we’re going to do...”
Monique paced the London town house, scarcely able to contain herself. It had been three days since she and Gregory had professed their love and he’d left for London. Two of them she’d spent at Canterbury Court, pretending to be Princess Aurore, to be unaware of the treacheries swirling beneath the surface around them. She’d fended off the flirtations of both the Duc de Pontalba and Prince Leopold while praying that Gregory could make his mad plan work.
At least in the country, she’d been able to avoid the count, since he and Gregory’s mother seemed to have struck up a friendship. They’d been very chummy, though Monique wondered if they would stay that way once the count found out she meant to marry Gregory and not some fellow of his choosing.
On the drive back yesterday evening, however, she’d been closeted with the count and Lady Ursula for hours, and the enormity of what was about to happen today in London had hit her.
Everything could go to hell in a short while. Not knowing how Gregory’s machinations had gone while he’d been in London was driving her mad, but he’d insisted they not see each other until the vote today. He couldn’t risk Danworth’s catching wind of their plans. Better that the wretch not know what had hit him until it happened.
The count entered the drawing room. “It’s time to go, niece. Ursula awaits us in the carriage.”
With a nod, she followed him out the door. But as soon as the carriage set off with the three of them, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. If this went wrong...
“Are you all right?” Lady Ursula asked.
