The Right Bride? (14 page)

She sat up slowly, numbly, reaching for her robe. Almost unable to comprehend what had just transpired between them. Feeling as if the strong inner core of her had crumbled.

‘But I regret that you have humbled yourself in vain,’ he went on. ‘Your charming acquiescence has made no difference to my plans. I
will
have my son.’

He got to his feet, refastening his jeans, while she huddled the robe round her, aware that her teeth were chattering. As he turned away she scrambled upright too, and ran to him, catching his arm.

‘Remy—please.’ There was anguish in her voice. ‘Oh, God, if you ever loved me…’

He took her hand, detaching it from his sleeve with a kind of terrible finality.

‘And what love,’ he said softly, ‘could possibly survive what you have done to me? Tell me that—if you can.’

He paused, adding flatly, ‘My lawyers will contact you,
madame.’

Standing silent and bereft, she watched him walk away.

Knowing that, this time, it would be for ever.

And unable even to cry.

A
LLIE
poured shower gel into her cupped hand and began to work it into her skin, wondering as she did so if she would ever feel loved again.

She’d been used, but not abused, and whatever violation there’d been was of her heart, not her body.

He’d taken her quickly and casually, as if demonstrating that although she might still appeal to him physically she had no hold over his emotions.

But what else could she expect? Had she really believed that offering herself sexually might change Remy’s mind, or soften his attitude towards her?

If so, she’d made a desperate mistake. All that she’d done was make him despise her even more. And, once again, she had no one to blame but herself, she thought wearily.

Except—except that the hand asserting its dominant sweep down her body had seemed to tremble a little. Or was that simply a forlorn hope?

It certainly did nothing to alleviate her sense of shame. Of failure. Or the agony of regret that clawed at her even now. The realisation of all she had lost.

‘I should hate him,’ she whispered to herself. ‘I have every reason in the world to do so. But I can’t—I can’t…And, God help me, I never shall.’

She rinsed the gel from her body, and the shampoo from her hair, then towelled herself dry, trying to get her thoughts
under control. To make some kind of coherent plan for the immediate future.

She could not, of course, tell Tante any of it. She could not distress her like that. Although if Remy carried out his threat to fight for Tom’s custody then her great-aunt would have to know, and sooner rather than later.

She sighed unhappily. Well, she thought, sufficient unto the day and all that…

In the meantime, everything had to appear as normal as she could make it. Just as if she’d actually spent a peaceful afternoon playing with Tom without a care in the world.

She put on a pretty blue and white floral skirt in floating georgette, adding a scoop-neck white top. She combed back her still-damp hair, and tucked it behind her ears.

Leaving Tom still asleep, she went down to the garden and collected up the rug and her bikini, bundling it all, together with her robe, into the washing machine housed in an outbuilding. Then she went back for Tom’s hat, the sun lotion and the wooden toys. She found the cow and the duck readily enough, but there was no sign of the red and white horse.

It’s probably up in his cot, she thought with a shrug as she walked back into the kitchen. And found herself stopping dead.

Solange Geran was standing in the middle of the room, arms folded across her body, the pretty face distorted by sullen anger.

Allie gave her a level glance as she deposited the things she was carrying on the table.

‘Bonjour, mademoiselle,’
she said with cool politeness. ‘I didn’t hear you knock.’

‘For that there is a reason,’ Solange said rudely. ‘I did not bother.’

‘Madame Colville is not at home.’

‘It was not her I came to see.’ The other girl took a step nearer, glaring at her. Allie had to fight an impulse to retreat. ‘I thought it was you I saw on the road yesterday. I want to
know what you think you are doing? Why have you dared to come back here, when you must know you are not wanted?’

‘I came to visit my great-aunt,’ Allie returned quietly. ‘It didn’t take much daring.’

Oh, God, if you knew
—
if you really knew…

‘But you would not, I hope, be stupid enough to think you could throw yourself at Remy again,’ Solange challenged scornfully. ‘Because you would be wasting your time. He finished with you long ago.’

Allie looked down at the toys. ‘Not—completely, perhaps. There are still—issues…’

‘You think Remy welcomes this new tie between you?’ Solange almost spat. ‘He does not.
C’est une affaire ridicule.
’

He must have gone straight to her, Allie thought numbly. Told her everything. Or perhaps not—everything…

She threw back her head. ‘Then why doesn’t he simply—walk away?’

‘Because he is devoted to his grandfather,’ Solange said pettishly. ‘Even when the old man is determined to make a fool of himself—and at his age too.’ She snorted. ‘My mother says it is disgusting.’

‘His grandfather?’ Allie stared at her. ‘What are you talking about?’

Solange shrugged. ‘The wedding,
naturellement
.’ She paused, her eyes widening. ‘You mean you do not know? But perhaps Madame Colville thinks it will be less embarrassing for both families if you do not attend.’ She laughed unpleasantly.
‘Elle a raison, bien sûr.’

Allie’s mind was reeling. ‘You’re saying that Tante Madelon is going to
marry
Remy’s grandfather? Oh, I don’t believe it.’

And yet, she realized, shocked, many of the things that had bewildered her were now beginning to make a horrible kind of sense.

That’s why Tante got me here, she thought. So that she could break the news, slowly and kindly. Only she’s found it harder than she thought…

‘Believe—do not believe.’ Solange shrugged again. ‘
Ça ne fait rien.
Who cares what you think? It will be good when you have returned to England and can trouble us no more.’

‘And Remy’s against—this marriage?’

‘
Certainement.
What else?’

‘But Tante’s his patient.’ Allie shook her head. ‘I thought—I had the impression—that they—liked each other.’

‘They have a professional relationship.’ Solange pursed her lips. ‘But he would hardly wish for a relative of
yours
to live at Trehel.
C’est une embêtement.’

A nuisance was putting it mildly, thought Allie. It sounded like a nightmare waiting to happen. Tante—and Georges de Brizat! It didn’t seem possible. Although she knew that in other circumstances she’d have been happy for them. Cheered them on.

‘But at least Remy lives in his own house, and we will be able to keep our distance when the time comes,’ Solange added with airy dismissal.

Allie’s throat tightened. She said quietly, ‘I’m sure that will be a relief to my great-aunt too—if the marriage ever happens, of course.’

Solange’s eyes narrowed. ‘You will try to prevent it?’

‘By no means. But—things happen.’ And there’s a time bomb waiting to explode in this relationship, she thought wretchedly. When Remy makes his intentions public. Would he take this into consideration, or would he see it as something of a bonus—an opportunity to rid himself of a potential embarrassment? Could he be that cruel?

I just don’t know any more, she told herself with sadness.

She looked back at Solange. ‘I won’t be waiting around for the wedding—if that’s the assurance you’ve come for,
mademoiselle
.’

‘I also wish to be sure that you will not contact Remy. That you accept you have nothing to hope for from him.’

‘No,’ Allie said, after a pause. ‘I have no hopes at all. And now I’d like you to go.’

Solange gave her another glare and turned away, but as
she did so there was a sleepy wail from upstairs. Tom had woken up.

Solange checked, frowning. ‘You have a child? I did not know.’

Allie lifted her chin. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t considered any of your business,
mademoiselle
.’ Although it may concern you sooner than you expect, she thought with sudden anguish. Oh, Remy, what are you doing to me? Of all the women in the world to be Tom’s stepmother…

She mastered herself with an effort. Looked the other girl calmly in the eye. ‘Please close the door behind you.’

She waited for the pick-up to drive off before she flew upstairs, where Tom was crying properly now—cross, redfaced, in tears as he shook the bars of his cot. She lifted him out, holding him to her so tightly that he struggled in protest.

Allie talked to him soothingly as she changed him then dressed him in shorts and tee-shirt, coaxing him out of his bad mood.

‘Did you have a bad dream, my love?’ she whispered. ‘Because I feel as if I’m living through the worst possible one. But I can’t let myself cry—not yet. I don’t think I can even afford to be scared.’

She’d regained some of her composure and Tom was in his highchair, dealing with a beaker of milk, when Tante returned, her silver hair swept into an elegant swirl on top of her head.

‘Very chic,’ Allie approved. She paused, forcing an approximation of a teasing smile. ‘Is that how you’re going to wear it for your wedding?’

‘You know?’ Tante’s expression of dismay was almost comical. ‘But how?’

Allie looked back, deliberately expressionless. ‘I had a visit from an old friend—Mademoiselle Geran.’

‘That one!’ Tante’s tone was outraged. ‘With her finger in every pie. What was
she
doing here?’

‘She came to—warn me off.’

‘Mon Dieu.’
Tante took a sharp breath. ‘What insolence.’

‘Clearly she thinks she has the right.’ Allie managed a shrug. ‘She wishes me to vanish, never to return, and maybe in her shoes I’d feel the same.’

Tante snorted delicately. ‘Perhaps her pursuit of Remy has not been as successful as she first hoped.’

Allie’s gaze sharpened. ‘You implied they were going to be married.’

‘That has certainly always been her intention,’ Tante said drily. ‘And his father favours the match because he wishes to see him settled, and therefore unlikely to go on his travels again.
Alors,
with Remy himself one can never be sure.’ She pursed her lips. ‘But sometimes all that is needed is persistence, and Solange Geran is a pretty girl, who wants him, which is always flattering.’

She paused, her eyes reflective as she studied her great-niece’s pale face. ‘Besides,
ma chère,
he is young and very much a man, and it must be lonely for him at Trehel in that house he created for love.’

‘Don’t.’ Allie’s voice broke. ‘Oh, please, don’t…’

She turned away, burying her face in her hands, and
madame
moved to her, putting her arms round the slender shaking figure and soothing her quietly.

‘Go to him,
ma chère
,’ she urged. ‘Tell him how you feel. What have you to lose?’

Allie shook her head. ‘I—can’t. It—it’s much too late for that.’
And I’ve lost already
—
disastrously.

‘I should not have brought you back here,’ Madelon Colville said with a sigh. ‘Except that I thought—both Georges and I hoped—’ She broke off, shaking her head. ‘But one should never interfere.’

Allie lifted her chin, a smile nailed in place. ‘Let’s talk about something else, shall we? Your good news? How did it all happen?’

‘We knew each other from childhood. Georges says that I was his first love.’
Madame’s
half-shrug was deliciously cynical. ‘But I was certainly not his last. We happened to meet one day—after Remy had gone away—and we talked a little.
The next time we talked more, and our meetings began to be arranged.
Et
—
voilà.
’

She shook her head. ‘It was not what we had ever expected, you understand. And there are many who would say we are too old. But love is good whenever it is found. And I am happy again in a way I did not dream was possible. But I am angry that Solange should have come here to make mischief,’ she added roundly. ‘She must know that I wished to tell you myself.’

‘I wish you had.’

‘I wish it also. But I too was waiting only for the right moment, and once again it has gone wrong.’ She sighed again. ‘It has not been—easy, you understand. For Georges or myself. Remy’s father took his departure very badly.’

Allie bit her lip. No one, she thought, had to tell her that. She said stiltedly, ‘You shouldn’t be blamed for my sins.’

‘Mine too,’ Tante said gently. ‘I could have spoken,
chérie.
But I did not.’

Tom interrupted at this point, demanding vociferously to get down from his chair, his eyes fixed on his toys, still on the table.

‘Here, darling.’ Allie put them on the floor. ‘But I don’t know what you’ve done with your horse—unless you’ve eaten it.’

It was good to watch him playing, see him look up and laugh. But while she smiled, and clapped her hands, Allie was thinking hard.

Somehow she was going to have to talk to Remy, she realised with disquiet. Try and make him see that this marriage deserved a chance, persuade him to do some kind of deal.

Even if he hates me, he must love his grandfather and want his happiness, she told herself.

And I must do this for Tante’s sake—no matter what the cost may be.

She shivered.

It was market day in Ignac, and Allie threaded the baby buggy carefully through the crowds thronging round the stalls as she crossed the square towards the medical centre.

She’d bought extra tee-shirts for Tom, which had been her excuse for the trip.

Now she had to fulfil the real purpose of the exercise.

She hoped she’d got her timing right. She’d found a leaflet with instructions about surgery hours, and figured that Remy would have dealt with his morning patients and be about to start on his visits. So she made her way to the small car park at the rear of the building and waited.

Ten minutes later he appeared, striding through the glass doors, his medical case in one hand, turning to call something over his shoulder as he emerged.

Swallowing, Allie moved forward to intercept him. ‘Remy—can we talk?’

He checked instantly, his brows snapping together as he looked down at Tom. ‘Is the baby sick?’

‘No, he’s fine. But there’s something I need to say—to ask you.’

‘And you chose here?’ He glanced around him, his mouth twisting. ‘You would not prefer to find somewhere more private, where your powers of persuasion might have—more scope?’

‘No,’ she said, steadily. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘A pity,’ Remy drawled insolently. ‘I enjoyed the reminder of how delightful you are naked.’

She felt her face warm. Had to force herself to stand her ground, as the blue eyes moved down her body, mentally stripping her, she realised, all over again. And quite deliberately.

She said, ‘I learned yesterday that Tante Madelon is to marry your grandfather.’

He shrugged. ‘It seems so,’ he countered brusquely. ‘What of it?’