Page 3 of A Noble Affair
Chastity stood too, her eyes level with his chin so she was forced to look up. “Why? Why aren’t you even considering the possibility that your son needs help? What have you got to lose?”
She saw his face flush with anger and wondered if she had been too pushy and whether Elizabeth was going to hear about it. Mr. de Brase walked to the door and turned back long enough to say, “Good day, Mademoiselle.”
His broad shoulders filled the narrow corridor, and she watched him turn the corner and disappear from sight.
Perhaps that wasn’t exactly my best behavior, she mused.But really. How am I supposed to be nice to the man?
2
The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the Château of Maisons-Laffitte, and the small square windowpanes made a checkered pattern of sunlight on the wooden floor. It was a warm day for late October, and the crisp sound of birds chirping nearby intermingled with the muted squeals of children playing further away.
The Viscount Charles Jean Anne Monorie de Brase sat behind the Louis XIV desk, which was antique in structure but modern in disarray with cords and chargers strewn among the documents. Papers were stacked in what could roughly be called piles, and a steaming cup of espresso sat in the center of it all, yet untouched. Leaning back against his padded armchair, one leg crossed easily over the other, Charles idly flipped through yesterday’s news articles on the tablet perched on his lap, raising his brows over one of the photo captions.
He dipped an end of the sugar cube in his coffee and watched as the cube turned brown. Then, stirring it with the tiny silver spoon, he drank the liquid in one swallow. As soon as the porcelain cup clattered on the saucer, a door in the wall opened that was so discreet you wouldn’t notice it unless you knew where to look.
“I don’t imagine you want to be involved in this, monsieur, but theélagueursare here from Versailles to trim the trees and bushes. I told André to show them what to do.”
“You’re right. I don’t need to be involved. They know what they’re doing.”
“Oui, monsieur.” The butler walked over and picked up the empty cup and saucer. “That just leaves your visit with the stable manager this morning before your family arrives for lunch.”
Charles focused on some distant point out the window. “I wonder if we can keep the meeting at the stables to under an hour. Or better yet,” he muttered under his breath, “skip the family reunion entirely.” He sighed, and the butler waited silently.
Noticing his employer had gone back to reading the news, Paltier ventured, “May I ask what time lunch should be served?”
“My mother won’t arrive until one o’clock, so we’ll eat shortly after that.” Charles smiled by way of dismissal, and Paltier nodded his gray head, leaving the room through the discreet passageway.
By the time the sounds of his mother’s arrival filtered up the stairs, the visit to the stables had been completed in record time, and his two sisters and the elder’s husband had been there for a half-hour. A stout, graying woman climbed the stairs with difficulty and stood erect at the entrance to the sitting room where the family was taking refreshments.
“Hello, Maman.” Charles rose to his feet and crossed the room to kiss her lightly on each cheek. “I hope you didn’t hit too much traffic.”
“Thepéripheriquewas slow, as to be expected.” She glanced around the room shrewdly. “Ah. I see you moved that Cézanne as I suggested.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she studied the painting for a moment before adding, “It needs to be closer to this armchair. It’s not properly centered between the windows.”
Charles sighed inwardly. He was respected in his field, and the owner of the nicest château on the outskirts of Paris, but his mother had the gift of making him feel like a boy as soon as she entered the room. She turned stiffly in her cream-colored Chanel suit to where a teenager with headphones was lounging on the sofa by the window.
“Louis, aren’t you going to greet your grandmother?” Her tone was acerbic as she addressed the boy’s father. “Perhaps a few hints on etiquette from time to time would serve him well. That’s how I raised you, if you’ll remember.”
“How could I possibly forget it?” he murmured.Or escape it?Charles lifted a stemmed glass lying on a nearby table. “A glass of Porto, Maman?” She shook her head no, scrutinizing the young man who rose to his feet and slipped off his headphones before lumbering over to his grandmother and kissing her. “Bonjour, Grand-mère.”
The matriarch turned back towards her son, her pale blue eyes boring into his. She didn’t bother to lower her voice. “I’ve told you this before, but he needs a woman in his life. A mother. It’s been fifteen years.”
She walked across the room to kiss her daughters and son-in-law, who had risen on her arrival, and turned back with an afterthought. “But not that young actress of yours.”
Charles felt his temper rise, but he kept his face impassive from years of training. “Shall we have lunch?” He gestured for his mother to lead the way into the dining room that was large enough to accommodate the massive table.
Over the first course, Charles’s sister, Adelaide, who was older by four years and his closest sibling in affection, leaned over with a twinkle in her eye. “Howisthat actress of yours?” She grinned and poked her fork into the toast with meltedchèvreand took a bite.
“You have salad in your teeth.”
Adelaide knew not to be put off by his grumpy rejoinder. Turning her face from her mother, who sat across from them, she grinned wider showing all her teeth, now full of salad and cheese in the crevices. “Do you think she will like me, Charles?” She eyed him balefully, her mouth full.
“Please be serious.” The stony face was belied by a smile in his eyes.
Adelaide suppressed a grin and murmured, “Don’t rise to the bait, Charlie.”
The dowager interrupted her son-in-law, who rarely paused for breath. “What are you talking about over there?”
