Heart Specialist (19 page)

But even that wouldn
’
t have disconcerted him, as she realized. He would probably have replied that he would send her another two dozen, and then look at her audaciously and tell her that her eyes reminded him of something, and it was something he always found pleasant to gaze at. Very, very pleasant indeed.

Jane put on her armor against him and vowed that she, at least, would never dine alone with him in Paris.

But Valentine found him a help and even a source of strength on all sorts of occasions. The Marquise de Rullecourt
’
s dinner party, for instance, she didn
’
t think she could have got through without him.

She hadn
’
t seen the
marquise
,
or Dr. Daudet, since the afternoon of the day she had had her hair cut short, and that, when she received the invitation, was at least half a dozen weeks before. April had stolen into May, and May had become June, and her conscience had troubled her more than once because the
marquise
had so particularly asked her to call, and she would have done so but for her fear that she would find Leon Daudet there also. Where Leon Daudet was concerned, she had seen the red light—the red light that had warned her that the whole of her future life might lie in ruins if she continued to obtain more than an occasional glimpse of him. She was also, at the very bottom of her heart, conscious of a dull ache of disappointment in connection with him.

At first, she had thought him hard, arrogant; and then she had thought him unexpectedly kind, and her heart had warmed to him. He had introduced her to his aunt, who was hardly the sort of person one expected to take kindly to casual acquaintances, and had suggested to her that she have someone to live with her, because he didn
’
t apparently like the idea of her
living alone. He had concerned himself with her affairs, shown her a rather delightful, whimsical side of himself, made her realize how attractive he was as a man—and then had kissed her because she disturbed him! And only a few minutes after the
kiss
that had altered her life and not merely awakened her but left her transparently palpitating with the desire to be kept awake, he had told her that she would have to think seriously about marrying one day, but urged her not to be in a hurry about making her choice!

Her choice
...!

As if there was any possibility now of any choice for her!

She went hot all over when she thought of his casual farewell to her that night, and the blush was almost painful when she recalled how quickly he had withdrawn from her when her hands had gone out to him!

She had wanted to be held in his arms—really held in his arms—and he had withdrawn! He had lit a cigarette and apologized for kissing her!

Often the memory of that kiss set her trembling. She wondered whether she would ever forget it. And she wondered how much Jane had deduced from her face when she had arrived home that night.

Jane never deliberately referred to Dr. Daudet.

But when his aunt
’
s invitation arrived, they knew it could not be ignored. And Valentine knew that it could not be declined. She felt it in her bones that in a very short space of time she could become really fond of the
marquise,
and of course her invitation had to be accepted.

Peter, too, received an invitation.

He collected them at the apartment, and it was in his taxi that they arrived at the Marquise de Rullecourt
’
s slightly feudal mansion. Jane had never seen it before, and she was very much impressed with the brilliantly lit interior. The thick carpets and the antiques, the paneling and the staircase looked well under the swinging chandeliers, and for tonight the house was massed with flowers, and the perfume of them filled every room.

The
marquise
,
Valentine thought when she welcomed them, gave her a slightly reproachful look, but it wasn
’
t so reproachful that Valentine felt uncomfortable. In some curious way she even thought that her hostess understood why she had not been to visit her, and that the reproach she imagined was actually a silent expression of sympathy, even commiseration.

And then she told herself that that was being utterly absurd and purely her imagination, and for the first time that evening she was glad of the Comte de Villeneuve. He came up behind her just as she caught sight of Madame Faubourg, in a gown of dead white satin that emphasized the sleek loveliness of her dark head, entering the splendid main living room by way of the wide-open double doors with Leon Daudet just a little behind her.

Philippe de Villeneuve stooped his head and whispered in Valentine
’
s ear,
“
You are lovely as a dream in that dress!
”
It was a dress that really was as lovely as a dream, for it was creamy pink lace over an underskirt—or rather, several underskirts—of taffeta, and it rustled delectably as she moved. Her hair was a shining cap around her small head. She wore Miss Constantia
’
s smaller row of pearls, and Peter had sent her a spray of palest pink
camellias
, and they were attached to the touch of iridescence on her one shoulder strap.

“
Why didn
’
t
I
think of those flowers?
”
Philippe demanded, looking at her quizzically.
“
I
’
ll wager that was our friend Peter!
”

“
Our friend Peter
”
appeared at her elbow, and the
comte
shook his head at him.

“
Orchids are rarer and would have suited her better,
”
he told him.
“
Slightly speckly ones, like freckles on a soft pink nose!
”

But Peter shook his head.

“
I think not,
”
he said, and Valentine smiled into his eyes. Peter
’
s admiration was very evident tonight.

Jane, who was wearing a silver sheath
-
like dress and looking quite wonderful—although Philippe made no comment whatsoever on her appearance—slipped her hand into Valentine
’
s arm and whispered,
“
Who is the statuesque-looking beauty over there in the white dress, with Dr. Daudet very much in attendance?
”

Valentine answered as if the last words hadn
’
t caused her to wince inwardly,
“
That is Madame Faubourg. She has been invited specially for Dr. Daudet.
”

“
I see,
”
Jane said. And all at once she thought she did see a great deal.

Dr. Daudet merely bowed in front of Valentine and her party, and Madame Faubourg became too preoccupied with her hostess even to notice them. Valentine heard her inquiring solicitously after the
marquise
’s
health, and she seemed to be consumed with anxiety lest such a sudden descent of guests upon her should prove too much. And as there were more than two dozen guests, and the
marquise
had been living very quietly for some time, there was perhaps some justification for this anxiety, which was undoubtedly shared by Dr. Daudet.

Valentine noticed how almost tenderly he offered his arm to his aunt to lead her into dinner, and once inside the huge dining room, with its magnificent table ablaze with flowers and glowing Venetian glass, he took some time settling her in her chair at the head of the table, and then took his place facing her at the opposite end.

Tonight he was playing host, to give support to his aunt, and he did so in a manner that proclaimed him very familiar with such a role, although Valentine was not one of the guests who received any attention from him. Somehow he seemed to be quite unaware of her, seated between Peter Fairfield and the
comte
,
and even when his eyes strayed in her direction he never looked at her. He managed to look either over her head or through her.

Valentine knew that she had been guilty of a grave offence, and he was not prepared to overlook it.

Back in the main living room after dinner, while the coffee was being handed around, Valentine somehow found herself in a
corner
examining a picture on the wall. It was a Renoir, one of his more impressionistic efforts, and the light above it enabled Valentine to examine it in detail. She was doing so, and yet not really aware of the subject at all, when she heard a voice behind her demanding with a cool edge, like a rapier blade, and with carefully modulated masculine tones,
“
Why have you so callously neglected my aunt, Miss Brooke?
”
No
“
Valentine
”
tonight, and nothing in the least friendly in his eyes as she whipped around automatically to stare at him.
“
You know she is not able to get out and about very much, and she particularly requested you to call and see her as often as possible. It would have been a kindness to devote a little of your time to her. Or do you find Paris so exciting nowadays that you have no spare time?
”

Valentine gazed at him and felt something angry in her heart begin to smolder and become revealed by her eyes. He was so condemning, so critical, so aloofly composed; just like the man who had more or less told her she was an adventuress when he had to break the news of her legacy to her. And beyond everything else, he was so heart-shatteringly handsome in his impeccable evening garments, and so far removed from her—millions of miles removed from her—that anger and despair became mixed, and she could have wept for the very love of him, and the very dislike of him!

She could have wept and excused herself, and then told him how much she disliked him. But she didn
’
t do either of those things. She remained completely silent.

“
Well?
”
His voice was very still and waiting.
“
Was it deliberate neglect?
”

“
I
thought
I
might find you here.
”

“
And you will do much to avoid seeing me?
”

“
Quite a lot. But I
’
m terribly sorry about the
marquise
.
In future,
I
...
I
will call and see her.
I
will call and see her as often as she would like me to do so.
”

“
She
’
s going away for a few weeks to the country. She needs a change of air.
”

“
Then I will call and see her when she returns.
”

“
And by that time perhaps I will be out of Paris.
”
His voice was very dry, his eyes inscrutable as he gazed straight at her.

“
Then
I
shall almost certainly enjoy my visits more.
”
She turned away, but he put a hand out to touch her, and his fingers were resting on her slim bare arm when Madame Faubourg came around a gilded screen and appeared very surprised indeed.

“
Why Leon! I have been looking for you,
”
she admitted. She smiled with her lips at Valentine.
“
How pretty you look, Miss Brooke, and so very young! I always think young things are pathetic. They never know what is ahead of them, or how long it is going to take them to develop sufficiently to become interesting. But I don
’
t suppose your young man Peter Fairfield is enamored of anything but youth, is he?
”
She smiled with a cool sparkle in her eyes.

Valentine replied
_;
,with a quiet unyouthful dignity,
“
I
really don
’
t know,
madame
.’ ”

“
Oh, come now!
”
Elise Faubourg slipped a hand inside Leon Daudet
’
s arm and leaned a little against him as she rallied Valentine.
“
Young things understand one another, and he
’
s such a very pleasing young man. Of excellent family, too. When are you going to defeat the clause in that whimsical will of Miss Constantia
’
s and give us all the thrill of a wedding before the year is out? The two of you could settle down comfortably at Chaumont, or you could sell it and go home and live in England, as
I
understand he will be inheriting his uncle
’
s estates one day.
”

Valentine said,
“
Excuse me,
I
must go.
”

“
Of course.
”

Elise smiled understanding.

“
You are treating your Peter as if he doesn
’
t exist. I saw him searching the room for you a few minutes ago.
”

As Valentine made to leave them both the doctor said sharply,
“
Valentine! Valentine,
I
want to have a talk with you sometime!
”

But she moved away swiftly, and Madame Faubourg patted his arm protestingly.

“
Miss Brooke to you, darling. And how delighted she was to escape! What had you been doing to her? Even Philippe manages to make her laugh, but you just seem to petrify her. It must be your advanced years.
”