Page 57 of A Proposition for the Comte
She swallowed and made herself carry on. ‘Harland took what was left of delight away from me in his way, as well, and tarnished it with his endless greed. And now...’ she swallowed ‘...now there is only shame left, shame that I should have been the one to lead him into the temptation of counterfeit. Hundreds of years of honesty spoiled in a heartbeat, the gold markings I had always loved blemished and stained. An unrecoverable sin.’
The wine glass in Aurelian’s hand reflected in the lights above them. She could tell he was measuring his response.
‘Nothing is ever as you might think it. My father wanted me to take over the estates in Normandy because he himself once thought that farming and an agricultural life might have made him happy. My grandmother wanted me to become a husband and a father and live in the apartments on the Rue Saint-Honoré near to her. Mama was more complex. She hoped I’d renounce my French heritage and move to the English countryside and a manor house that was hers by right of inheritance. She worried for me and my future in Paris even as she loved my father.’ He smiled. ‘Every person has their own particular belief system, you see, formed by what has made them the happiest.’
‘What has that been for you? Your happiest times?’ She asked this even as she tried to think of an answer for herself. The sad thing was she could not really remember a time when she had felt truly joyous except for the nights when she’d lain in the arms of Aurelian de la Tomber.
‘Maybe right now, sitting here with you and watching how the light falls on the red of your hair. Perhaps that is the trick of life, Violet. Enjoying the moment.’
She liked his answer. For so long she had been afraid and lonely and disappointed. Yet now in the aftermath of true peril she saw a glimmer of hope.
The velvet seats were comfortable and she could smell the meals of the other patrons as they were brought out. There was music close, too, and the snow that had threatened to fall all morning was suddenly thick outside, like a wonderland scene in a book she had bought once for Amara in the shop at the end of Regent Street.
She had never sat and talked like this with anyone before. Aurelian felt safe and dangerous, foreign and known. He felt like a man who was solid even though he existed in shadows.
‘Gregory MacMillan said that you were seen frequenting an opium den here in London.’
‘And you are asking if I am a patron?’
‘Yes.’ Her directness surprised her, but she didn’t drop her gaze.
‘George Taylor was a member there and I wanted to find out more of him. I seldom locate the people I am looking for in more salubrious circumstances. In fact, the opium den was tame.’
‘And the boarding house on Brompton Place?’
‘I’d been sent a message to meet a man there who had information pertaining to the lost French gold. He tried to kill me as soon as I arrived.’
‘So you killed him instead?’
He leaned forward and looked her straight in the eye. ‘I am not giving you excuses, Violet, only the truth.’
‘And I thank you for it.’
The waiter had returned now with a small list of the day’s meals. It was strange, this juxtaposition of the ordinary and the extraordinary, for she could feel every part of her body alive in a way it had not been before. Harland had palmed her off with mistruths. Aurelian did not.
‘I will be away for the next few days. A contact who had connections to your husband has agreed to talk with me. My guards will protect you here.’
‘You think it is that dangerous?’
‘I hope not, but it is best to be sure. When I return, Summerley Shayborne has asked me down to his estate of Luxford and I hoped you might join me? I think it would be good for you to get out of London for a few days.’
‘I would like that.’
He smiled and she knew then why many women in society had fallen so markedly at his feet. Harland’s beauty had been skin-deep and he had been a vain man. Aurelian de la Tomber, on the other hand, was much more than his clothes and his appearance. He was dangerous to be sure but he was honest with it. When he told her things, it would be the truth. She could barely believe the relief that came with such a knowledge.
‘How is your hand?’ It was still bandaged but more lightly now, the dark of his skin showing up against white.
‘Compared to all the other injuries I have had in the past it is a mere scratch.’
Looking down he began to twist the heavy signet ring off his finger.
‘I want you to keep this on you, Violet. If at any time you feel threatened, drop the ring somewhere others can find it and I will come.’
The warmth of the gold sat on her palm, the crest easily seen in the light of the room. She had sent this back to him the first time but now her fingers curled around it.
‘This is the best I can offer at the moment.’
‘Offer?’ She could not understand what he meant.
