Prelude to Heaven (34 page)

“Yes,” Melanie continued, smoothly covering the sudden silence. “He's doing a portrait of me. I'm dying to take a peek at it, but he won't let me. He says he never lets anyone see a portrait until it's finished. Papa was quite upset about that.”

Tess smiled a little, remembering how she hadn’t been able to see her portrait either until it was done. Those summer days in the meadow with Alexandre seemed a lifetime ago.

“I was amazed when I saw him,” Felicia confessed. “He looks so dark and formidable. Handsome, too, in a dangerous, brooding sort of way.”

“He's very mysterious, too. Reveals nothing about himself. But I did hear that he owns a great deal of land. Vineyards, I believe, somewhere in France. Bordeaux, perhaps? Or Champagne? Anyway,” she added with a vague wave of her hand, “he’s quite wealthy, I hear.”

Tess thought of Alexandre's crumbling castle and deserted vineyards, and her smile widened a little as she wondered what the pampered Lady Melanie would think if she were forced to learn how to milk a goat or cook a chicken.

“So, if he's wealthy, why won't your father consider him as a match for you?” one of the other girls asked.

Melanie's eyes widened and she began to laugh. “Darling! A Frenchman? And an artist? Papa would never consent to such a match!”

“I heard his painting is only a hobby,” another girl commented. “But, still, he is French.”

“Isn't he though?” Melanie sighed again. “When he speaks to me with that lovely accent, I’m simply enraptured.”

“He's quite tall,” Felicia commented. “I noticed it when I danced with him. He waltzes divinely.”

“He does,” Melanie confirmed. “When he holds you in his arms and moves you across the floor, why, it feels as if you're floating on air.”

All of them, with the exception of Tess, sighed in unison at this poetic description.

“Is that really how it feels?” another girl asked.

“Definitely,” Melanie assured them, adding, “Wouldn't you agree, Lady Aubry?”

All eyes turned eagerly to Tess, but if Lady Melanie and her friends expected Tess to relay in detail exactly how it had felt to be held in Alexandre Dumond's arms, they were destined to be disappointed. “He dances quite well,” was all she said, a reply that made all five of the girls look at her in aggravation, as if her refusal to offer details was a thorough let down.

“But of course,” Melanie said, smoothly jumping into the breach, “you are married to one of the handsomest and wealthiest men in England, Lady Aubry. Of course you would be indifferent to the charms of a wild French artist.”

“Ooh, speak of the devil!” one of the girls squealed. “Dumond is right over there! And he’s coming this way.”

A collective set of girlish giggles ensued. Tess in no frame of mind to giggle, heartily wished she could duck down in her seat and hide from his sight, but she had the feeling it was already too late. Alexandre had probably seen her.

“What a splendid horse he's riding,” Felicia commented. “Oh, Melanie, I'm sure he's coming to speak with you!”

Melanie did not turn around to look. She merely smiled. “Is he? How lovely.”

“He doesn't have his daughter with him today,” one of the other girls commented. “I was out riding with my mother a few days ago and saw him in his carriage. He had his daughter with him then, sitting in his lap. Can you imagine?”

Tess could imagine it. She could imagine Alexandre taking Suzanne for rides, rocking her to sleep, telling her stories. The visions filled her with a mixture of emotions. Relief, knowing she had made the right decision. Jealousy, knowing she would never have such moments with her baby. Sadness, knowing she would never watch her daughter grow to womanhood.

“He adores that child,” Melanie informed them. “He takes her with him nearly everywhere. It's not quite the thing, you know, but it is rather quaint.”

Tess shoved aside the craven impulse to hide as she watched Alexandre approaching. Hatless, dressed in black riding costume, he looked magnificent astride his black horse, and no matter how she tried, Tess couldn’t tear her gaze away from him.

“
Bonjour
, mesdemoiselles.” He halted his horse on the opposite side of Melanie's carriage. One lock of his long black hair fell forward over his shoulder as he bowed his head to them in greeting, and he tossed it back with a careless shake of his head.

“Monsieur Dumond!” Melanie turned to greet him. “How delightful to see you again so soon.”

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Melanie.” He glanced toward Tess's carriage. “Good afternoon, Lady Felicia. Ah, and Lady Aubry.” His black eyes met hers for only a moment before he returned his attention to the blond girl in the other carriage.

“Have you come to eavesdrop on our gossip, Monsieur?” Melanie inquired with a coquettish laugh.

He wrapped the reins in one hand to lift the other in a gesture of regret. “A tempting idea, but alas,
non
.” He gave them a wicked grin and added, “Although, perhaps it is not so tempting. You might be talking of me, and eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves,
n'est-ce pas
?”

The girls laughed at that. Tess did not.

An irate male voice behind them suddenly overrode the laughter. “My dear ladies, can you please move forward? You are blocking the path!”

“Oh, what a bother!” Melanie exclaimed and half-rose in her seat to cast a glance at the carriage behind them.

“Ladies, my regrets,” Alexandre said, “but I must be on my way.
Au revoir
.” He gave them a final wave and turned his horse away without a single glance in Tess’s direction.

“Isn't he dashing?” Melanie sighed as she watched him lead the horse away at a rapid canter.

“What extraordinary hair!” one of the other girls exclaimed. “It's so out of fashion, but it suits him, does it not?”

All the girls agreed it suited him well indeed. Tess expressed no opinion, but the extraordinary feel of Alexandre's hair tangled within her grasp was a memory she feared would be with her all her days.

“Ladies, please!” the man behind them spoke again, causing both Tess and Melanie to give their drivers instructions to move forward.

“You’re coming to dinner tomorrow, aren’t you, Felicia?” Melanie called to her cousin as both carriages continued down the Row.

“I believe we are.”

“Excellent. You can see my portrait. Dumond assured Mama it would be finished by then, and she’s having a little dinner party for him to celebrate.” She turned in her seat as her carriage began merging ahead of Tess’s into the line of traffic. “You too, Lady Aubry,” she added over her shoulder. “You are more than welcome to come if you like.”

She turned away, facing forward in her seat before Tess could think of an excuse to refuse her invitation, but that didn’t matter. Tess would simply send a note of refusal to Lady Grenville this evening. After all, she had no intention sitting across from Alexandre at dinner, for that would only make her life more hellish than it already was.

***

Although she managed to evade Lady Grenville’s little dinner party, Tess did see Alexandre again, more than once. In fact, during the fortnight that followed the Grenville ball, she seemed to encounter him at every social event she attended. Though they never spoke, it seemed as if every time she looked at him, he was watching her. From across a crowded drawing room, or separated by dancers on a ballroom floor, he seemed to be staring at her, and every time their eyes met, she saw questions in his eyes, questions he seemed waiting for the opportunity to ask her. She could only pray he never got that opportunity.

But Tess feared she could not possibly avoid him for the entire Season, and that fear was confirmed when an invitation arrived by post from Alexandre himself, requesting the honor of Lord and Lady Aubry's presence at a
conversazione
to be held at his home seven days hence. Nigel accepted the invitation on behalf of both of them, and though she tried to finagle her way out of going, her husband would have none of it. He insisted that she accompany him.

Bad enough, she thought resentfully as they entered Alexandre’s luxurious lodgings in Curzon Street, that she'd had to hear his praises being sung by debutantes and dukes alike and that she seemed to see him at every rout or ball she attended. It was bad enough to hear everyone talk of how extraordinary his painting were and how the Prince Regent had lavishly praised his display at the Exhibition. But to be forced into attending one of his parties passed all bounds.

To make matters worse, she knew Nigel was angry with her again. After all her indirect attempts to avoid attending this party had failed, she had unwisely told Nigel she simply didn’t want to go. His response had been a simple, “You will do what you are told,” and the glitter in his eyes and the tight clench of his jaw told her that by continuing to display such recalcitrance, she was flirting with disaster.

The drawing room of Alexandre’s London house was packed with people, but she spied him the moment she entered, and when she saw his tall form on the other side of the room, she took a deep breath, trying to ready herself for what was sure to be an evening of agony.

***

He hadn't really expected her to come. Even though he’d already received confirmation from Aubry that both he and his wife would attend, he still wasn’t prepared for the sight of Tess standing in the doorway. He froze, his glass of wine halfway to his lips, surprised not only by her presence, but also by his own reaction to it.

The moment he saw her, desire and resentment began humming through his blood in equal measure, though why that fact should surprise him was baffling, for he’d been having the same visceral response every time he caught sight of her.

And Aubry’s continual presence at her side made him even angrier. What was he, in heaven’s name? Her shadow? And why the devil should he care?

Camilla, who stood beside him, also noticed the couple. “I see Lord and Lady Aubry have finally arrived.” She leaned closer to him, adding, “With Lady Aubry’s health, one never knows.”

Alexander took a much-need gulp of wine. “What do you mean?”

“She’s frequently ill. Why, last year, she was in such a decline, Aubry sent her to France for treatments of some kind. She missed all of last Season and most of this one.”

He could have told Camilla that Lady Aubry had been in the pink of health last summer. He could have told her that Tess hadn't left England for anything more serious than an unwanted baby. He said nothing.

Camilla went on, “She's quite delicate, the poor dear, though no one really knows quite what the trouble is.”

There probably was no trouble. Tess had probably circulated that rumor herself to explain her absence from England. But what had she told her husband? He took another drink. Staying with friends? Taking waters at Marseilles? He’d give a lot to know what lies she’d been spinning.

“You're looking quite thoughtful,” Camilla commented.

He seized on the earl, not the countess as his reason. “Aubry...interests me.”

“Does he? Well, he's certainly rich enough to afford a portrait, but don't waste your time. He had his portrait done by Turner less than a year ago. Paid an incredible price, I understand, since Turner does so few portraits these days.”

He couldn’t help it. He had to ask. “What about his wife? Did Turner do her portrait as well?”

“I don’t believe so. She would have been in France at the time.”

He studied her, struck again by the change in her appearance since December. She hadn't been ill then, but she certainly looked it now. There was no color in her cheeks, no light in her eyes, no life in her face. She was an empty shell of the woman he had known. Was her marriage that unhappy?

Damn. He drained his glass, set it on the tray of the nearest footman, and excused himself from Camilla to greet the new arrivals.

“Dumond!” Aubry exclaimed at the sight of him. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is mine. Lady Aubry,” he added, bowing to Tess. “I am delighted the two of you were able to come this evening.”

“We could not think of missing it,” Aubry assured him and nodded to the crowded room. “It seems half of London feels the same. Quite a squeeze.”

Tess said nothing, but it was clear she did not share her husband's enthusiasm.

“Due to the smashing success of your exhibition, no doubt.” Aubry continued. “As I told you before, I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

“And you, Lady Aubry?” he asked. “I should love to hear your opinion.”

There was a pause, and Alexandre thought he sensed a hint of constraint in the silence, but Aubry spoke before he could be sure.

“My wife missed it, I fear,” the earl said. “She was ill at the time.”

Alexandre’s puzzlement deepened. “Since you missed the exhibition, Lady Aubry,” he murmured, “perhaps you would care to see my gallery? I have all the paintings from the exhibit, as well as some other works I chose not to display.”

Her eyes widened a little as if in alarm. “I—” She broke off, glancing at her husband. “I don’t think—”

“We would adore it,” Aubry interrupted, and Alexandre gestured to the doorway behind them.

“If you will follow me?” Alexandre took them to the room across the foyer where his paintings were displayed, and as they circled the room, Aubry paused to admire one of the watercolor landscapes.

“Is this place in England?” he asked, turning to Alexandre as he gestured to the painting.

“No, actually,” he answered, his eyes on Tess’s face, “it is a meadow near my home.”

Because he was watching her, he saw the little start she gave. She looked past the still life she’d been examining, and when she saw the watercolor of their meadow, all the color drained from her face, making it clear that he was not the only one who still remembered that hot August afternoon where they had argued over the fate of a wounded goose, and where he had kissed her for the first time.

“Near your home?” Aubry’s voice jerked him back to the present. “That would be somewhere in Bordeaux, I believe? I heard you have vineyards there.”

He opened his mouth to correct the other man on the location of his home, but he caught Tess’s pleading gaze and stopped. He closed his mouth again, feeling like the biggest fool on earth for protecting her secret. What did he care if her husband knew where he lived? What did he care if Aubry found out he and Tess had been lovers? That she had lived with him? That she had been unfaithful?