Page 10 of A Noble Affair
“Nah, they came back after, uh…afterwards. I think they were tired of living in Manhattan.”
“I understand.” Chastity fell silent. She imagined his demise caused too much embarrassment in their polite circle for them to remain there.
“So they know you’re here and everything…?” She was hesitant to pry, but at the same time, was curious how he was getting along. She had a hard time imagining him—the golden boy—scraping by without his parents’ help.
“They know.” Marc shrugged. “I can’t say they’re too thrilled with the idea of having me over to see them, and I haven’t pushed. I humiliated them.”
“I see.” Chastity studied the napkin folded on her lap.
Even when she had disappointed her own parents, they would never think of shutting her out. Thomas started to clink his empty chocolate mug in tune to his kicking feet. “Do you mind if we walk? It’s hard for a boy his age to sit still for long.”
“Of course.” Marc stood, signaling for the check.
When they came out of the café, they turned left and started walking towards a playground she had seen in passing. They entered the fenced-in area, and Marc watched Thomas run towards the jungle gym, his feet flinging sand as he went. Chastity cleared her throat.
“I was thinking. Didn’t you have to serve parole at all? Was there no problem for you to leave the country?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “With the reduced time, it was as if I had served my whole sentence, so there was no parole. I was allowed to come back because this is my home country. I came back with a record, though. I’m no freer here than I was in America. I’ll never have a career or anything like that.”
“Don’t say ‘never’.” Chastity frowned in sympathy.
He was quiet for a minute, then nodded towards his son. “What did you tell him about me?”
“I told him the truth. He deserves to know the truth.”
Marc shook his head. “He must hate me. A father who was in prison.”
His humiliation pained Chastity, even if she was wary of his own potential for inflicting pain. It caused her to speak with more gentleness than she had yet shown. “I’ve not made you out to be a villain, Marc. He’ll judge you from what you are to him—not from anything I tell him.”
Marc flashed her a quick smile before looking at his feet.
“But I do have to ask what role you hope to have in his life after seven years," she continued."I mean, there hasn’t been a word from you in all this time. I can’t forget what you said to me when I first told you—or your parting words.”
Marc cut her off with a groan, his face in his hands. “Please forget about anything I said back then. I mean, forget about it as much as you can. I was too cocky. I’m sorry—I know I was a jerk.” His voice trembled, and he averted his eyes.
“Okay, fine,” Chastity said, not unkindly. She chewed her lip. “But, so what role…” She trailed off, looking at Thomas.
“Whatever role you permit me.” Marc shrugged and glanced at her with a hopeful smile. Their gaze met before they both turned to Thomas, who had climbed all the way to the top of the jungle gym and who was shyly watching them. The sun formed a halo around his straw-colored head as he straddled the top of the netted pyramid. He gave a small wave, and they both smiled and waved back.
“Let’s just play it by ear, okay?”
5
Charles stepped off the Eurostar with his hand on Manon’s back to guide her through the crowds. He signaled a porter to come and help with their bags and led the way to the taxi stand. Manon was relatively unknown in London, and it was a pleasure to be able to move about freely without fear of being recognized.
Nevertheless, she kept her sunglasses on and moved furtively, which drew more attention to her than if she had acted more naturally. They jumped in a taxi and headed to the newly opened Cambria hotel on St Thomas Street. Charles relaxed on the vinyl seat and meditated as they drove past the streets teeming with people.
When they arrived at the hotel, Charles contemplated the sparse pieces of artwork, bare marble floors, and isolated settees and decided the lobby was too austere for his taste. He was vaguely aware of the irony in his judgment since he lived in a rambling, drafty château. They walked up to the reception desk and asked for their suites. Manon Duprey was booked in the Kensington Suite, and Charles was staying in the smaller Cambria Suite. As they rode up in the elevator behind two bellhops, she leaned into him and whispered in his ear. “I don’t know why we can’t stay in the same suite.”
He cracked a smile but only patted her arm draped around his waist by way of an answer. She was not used to men remaining immune to her charms, and he guessed this little gesture made her want to double up on the seduction. Or scratch his eyes out. Charles followed one of the bellhops out of the elevator and promised Manon he would be by to pick her up for dinner at eight. They were eating at Barney’s Tavern and had reservations to dine there at nine o’clock.
Charles went into his suite and watched the bellhop place his suitcase on the folding stand with elastic bands across it. After he tipped the uniformed man, who let himself discreetly out, Charles was alone. He walked over to the window.
It had begun to rain outside and grow dark, and he watched the people below scurrying for shelter. His spirits sank as the rain fell from the somber, gray skies, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he had bothered to come to London at all. He had been instantly attracted to Manon when he met her at a charity dinner several months ago, but sometimes it felt like the longer he spent in her company, the more he was aware of their differences.
A perfect example occurred on the way over. They had first class tickets on the Eurostar, but through a mix-up, another couple had been assigned the same seats on the fully-booked train. He was prepared to let it go, but she refused to be downgraded and made a quiet, but embarrassing, scene.
Charles had spent his entire life with a family who expected to be honored because of their title. More specifically, he walked in the shadow of amotherwho expected to be recognized and given her due. He had had enough. The more Manon Duprey tasted the fame and glamor attached to her career, the more she was drawn to a pampered life. Charles de Brase, wealthy and titled, was aiming for simplicity in life. The actress, naturally simple, was climbing towards elegance. Their relationship seemed to be heading for a draw.
