When Tempting a Rogue (28 page)

A tear dribbled down Vienne’s cheek as she accepted the letter. She wiped the wetness away with the back of her hand. She would cry for him later, when she could be alone with her grief. “I’ll read it when I am at home.”

Silence embraced them, just for a moment. Then her mother said, “He is proud of you, little one. He tells me so often.”

“Papa visits Mama in her dreams,” Aline explained with an expression that begged Vienne to simply go along.

Vienne smiled. “Thank you, Mama. I like to think that he would approve of what I’ve built here. I would have loved for him to see Trystienne’s.”

“What on earth is that?” Aline asked.

“The emporium Lord Trystan and I have put together. It’s a number of fashionable boutiques and a tearoom under one roof. Ladies may shop there for clothing, jewelry, hats—anything they want. We have shops for gentlemen as well.”

“All together?” Marguerite’s tone was rife with wonder.

She nodded. “Think of it like a pile of building blocks. They fit together to form a whole but each is an individual.”

Aline smiled. “So Lord Trystan is your business partner?”

Vienne heard the incredulous note in her sister’s statement, but was not offended by it. Aline had always delighted in teasing her. “Yes, he is. And a good one at that.”

Marguerite dabbed at her eyes with a dainty handkerchief. “When Lord Trystan contacted us, we knew God had finally answered our prayers. Our other siblings wanted to come, but their lives would not permit it.”

“You should come home with us,” Aline suggested hopefully.

Vienne didn’t need to think about it. “I would love that. I have business to attend to over the next week, but after that I can go. Will you stay until then? I have plenty of room at my club.”

Her mother stroked a hand over Vienne’s hair, smiling her Madonna smile. “Your Trystan was good enough to give us a suite here, free of charge, though I do feel a little guilty taking advantage of his hospitality.”

Why was she not surprised? “He is a good man. One of the best I’ve ever had the honor to know.”

“He certainly thinks very highly of you,” Aline remarked. “He paid for our passage here as well.”

Vienne missed the sparkle in her sister’s eyes because she was too distracted by Trystan’s generosity. He had done all of this for her. Why?

The answer came like a blow to the solar plexus. He had done it because he wanted to prove to her that she hadn’t been to blame, that she was not the awful person she believed herself to be.

Because he knew it was the only way the two of them might ever have a future. It was worth that much to him that he would take a chance on this being an awful reunion. She was worth that much to him.

Could it be that he loved her? It seemed too good to possibly be true, and yet she allowed herself to indulge in the thought. Wallow in it, even. All was not lost.

“Vienne?” Marguerite’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

Vienne squeezed her sister’s hand. “I think that it is so wonderful to have the three of you here with me. I would like it so much if you could stay until after the grand opening. There’s going to be a party that I so want you to attend with me. Afterward, we can go to France together.”

Her sisters turned to their mother for the decision. How little some things change. Jeanette Moreau was a matriarch in every sense of the word in their family.

“Yes,” the older woman replied. “I would like that very much. Aline, see about sending a telegram home to let them know we’re extending our stay.”

Aline beamed. “Of course, Mama.”

Vienne’s heart swelled. This was one of the best days of her life. It felt as though angels had come down to take all of her worries and cares away. As though she had been in a cage and now the door was open for her to run free.

This time she wouldn’t run away from what she wanted. She would run toward it.

Chapter 16

T
rystan sometimes lamented his family—as anyone with family generally did—but on most occasions he thought them the best people he knew. The party to celebrate the completion and opening of Trystienne’s was one of those occasions.

Grey and Rose, his mother, and Bronte and Alex returned from the country for the occasion. Archer was there as well, looking tidier and more sober than Trystan had seen him since his return to England. Whatever it was that made Arch feel sorry for himself, it seemed to have passed, and he decided to move on to greener pastures.

Trystan suspected the change might have something to do with Indara Ferrars—he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her all evening. Truthfully, Trystan couldn’t tell if the look in Archer’s eye was predatory in a good way or bad. Still it was better than drunk.

He was surprised to see Rose there in her delicate condition, but no one could tell by looking at her that she was with child. He supposed one might notice a very slight thickening around her middle beneath her pale blue gown, but that was probably the sort of thing only another woman might notice as they eyed each other in such a critical fashion.

Bronte and Alex looked well and could scarcely leave each other’s side for more than a moment. It was lovely to see his sister so happy in her marriage. Alex was a charmer, which gave Trystan pause as most charming men were not to be trusted—he knew this from growing up with Archer. However, Alex was completely besotted and didn’t care if anyone noticed. That drove Trystan’s estimation of him up a notch or two.

He surveyed the great hall and one of the ladies’ boutiques to the right. There were some displays set up, but most of the shops were low on inventory simply to allow guests to mill about. One of Vienne’s ideas had been to keep one of everything on display while extras were kept out of sight or in a back room. This gave the illusion that the customer was buying something extraordinary—and they were—but it was all in the presentation.

A footman appeared before him with a tray. “Champagne, Lord Trystan?”

“Excellent notion,” he replied with thanks, and took a glass from the tray. It was delicious—just tart enough, crisp enough, and cold enough.
Perfection
. He had to give Vienne the credit she deserved. The woman certainly knew how to throw a party.

Speaking of his former partner, she was on the other side of the hall chatting to one of her sisters—Aline, if he hadn’t mixed their names up. Vienne wore a beautiful tea-colored velvet gown cut low across her shoulders, baring a lovely expanse of pale ivory skin. The bodice was snug, but not so much that it made a vulgar display of cleavage. The hint there was just enough to whet the appetite. Her copper hair was swept up into an elaborate construction he longed to dismantle just for the pleasure of touching her hair.

She looked beautiful, and it had very little do to with her lovely gown or artful hairstyle. It was happiness that lit her from within, making her skin and eyes glow with a light so pure it took his breath every time he looked at her.

He deliberately avoided being alone with Vienne since her family’s arrival. It wasn’t difficult, as most of her time was taken up with them and the rest divided between Trystienne’s and Saint’s Row. Oftentimes he would be attending other business while she was at the shops, or he would be at the shops while she was elsewhere. He thought it for the best; and now that he saw her with her family, he realized he’d been wrong in that assumption. Obviously everything had been sorted out between them, so it was unlikely that Vienne wanted his head on a platter.

“I’ve a novel idea,” came Archer’s voice from behind him. “Why don’t you stop staring and go talk to her instead?”

Trystan didn’t move. He simply waited for Archer to move to his side. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

His brother made a tsking sound. “You are my business, more’s the pity for you.”

“Indeed.” Trystan took a sip of his drink. “Don’t you have a skirt or two to chase? There must be some pretty lady here you haven’t bedded before.”

“Surprisingly, there are several, but I’m not on the hunt tonight.”

Trystan turned his head to present his disbelieving face to his brother. “Are you ill?”

Archer grinned. “No. I’m merely . . . rethinking my priorities. Does that intrigue you?”

It did. “No. I have no interest in your conquests or lack thereof.”

His brother’s grin remained. “Liar. You’re just as concerned and nosy about me as I am of you.”

That was true. “What’s going on with you, Arch?”

The grin faded. Archer took a drink and then glanced down into the glass. “Took a bit of a stumble a few months ago. Offered my heart to a lady who didn’t want it, and my pride took a bit of a pounding for it. However, I believe I have almost entirely removed my head from my arse, so we’ll see how things progress from here.”

Trystan frowned. “That was perhaps the most telling and the most cryptic answer I’ve ever heard. You’ve a talent there.”

His brother laughed. “Let’s just say I’m trying to make a fresh start. Take my life in a new direction.”

He raised his glass. “To fresh starts.” They both drank.

“Seriously,” Archer began. “Go to her, Trystan. If you love her, you cannot give up.”

“She basically told me it was never going to happen, Arch.”

Pale blue eyes locked with his. “Then change her mind. Maybe some time with her family has softened her up.”

He should be so lucky. But Archer was on to something. If Marguerite absolved Vienne of any blame for the affair with her husband, then just maybe Vienne might have a different opinion of herself.

It was a lot to ask for, but perhaps Archer was right—
shocking!—
and he should toss his pride to the wind and try again to win Vienne’s heart. If she rejected him again, he could leave for New York whenever he wanted and literally put her behind him.

The healing wound in his side ached, so he rubbed his hand over it. Archer caught the movement. “Are you in pain?”

“Just a twinge. It’s healing quite well. I’m told it’s quite normal to have discomfort linger for a while. Getting shot is serious business, did you know that?”

Archer nodded with mock gravity. “So I hear. But that is the price one pays for being a hero.”

“Who’s a hero?” Grey asked, coming up on Trystan’s other side. They formed a small circle now, the three of them.

“Me,” Trystan informed him. “Or rather I
was
. Archer says I deserved to get shot.”

His brother scowled. “I never said you deserved it, you little snot. I said it was the price you pay for being a hero.”

Grey scratched his jaw, calling attention to the scar that ran down the length of his face. “There’s a price for being unheroic as well. Seems one just cannot win these days.”

“I think Archer is just jealous because we have manly scars and he is as unmarked as a little girl,” Trystan suggested.

Grey grinned. “There is that.”

“That’s not true,” Archer retorted with mock offense. “I have a scar on my left arse cheek where Lady Newton bit me in the spring. Perfect set of teeth marks.”

Trystan snorted, but it was Grey who responded. “Dear Lord, it’s a wonder you survived to tell the tale. Please
do not
tell us the tale.”

Archer gave a careless shrug of his shoulders. “Now who is jealous? There he goes again. Grey, tell him to either stop staring at La Rieux or go talk to her. It’s embarrassing standing here while he fawns like that.”

Trystan hadn’t even realized he was staring again. He tore his gaze away. “If I’m so embarrassing, go stand somewhere else.”

“No. I wish to stand exactly where I am. You have the best view of the room here. You go stand somewhere else. I see a spot over by Madame La Rieux that would be perfect for you.”

“Bugger off.” But the retort lost its heat when he laughed his way through it.

“Here, have another glass of champagne.” Grey snagged new glasses for each of them from an obliging footman in exchange for their empty ones. “That will give you courage.”

“Oh yes, because she’ll be so enamored of me if I stagger and breathe fumes all over her.”

“I like to pretend I’m drunk sometimes,” Archer admitted. “Makes the lady I’m intent on feel as though she’s seducing me.”

“I did not need to know that,” Trystan replied.

Grey grimaced. “I thought it was common knowledge that any woman in London could have you for a smile.”

“That’s a little of the pot and kettle, don’t you think?” Archer shot back. “I’m hard-pressed to find one over five and twenty that you haven’t shagged.”

Trystan laughed. “The two of you realize that you’re arguing over which one of you has been the most debauched? It’s hardly the sort of contest a man should strive to win, don’t you think?”

The two of them turned their heads toward him in unison. It was unsettling. It was like being a wounded rabbit faced with two vultures.

“How did he turn out so morally high standing?” Archer asked, gaze unwavering.

Grey was just as still. “Watching us, I suppose. Learned from our mistakes.”

“So, we were good influences after all.”

“It would appear so.” Grey winked at Trystan. “And people thought you would turn out to be the worst of the lot with the two of us as your guide. I’m vastly amused that you proved them wrong.”

Archer glanced at him. “Tad bit proud too, don’t you think?”

Grey nodded. “Wouldn’t admit it in public, of course, but I will own a certain amount of pride in his accomplishments, yes. A very small amount, mind you.”

“Miniscule, really.”

Trystan laughed. “Good God, the two of you belong on a stage somewhere. Will you just stop?”

His brothers joined him in a chuckle, and then Grey clapped him on the arm. “I’m going to embarrass you now.” With that he clanged on his champagne class with his pocket watch, and when that didn’t silence the crowd, Archer let out a piercing whistle that brought conversation to a standstill. Trystan’s cheeks warmed as all gazes turned in their direction. What now?

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please pardon the interruption,” Grey began. “I will only keep you for a moment. I would like to propose a toast to Vienne La Rieux and my brother Trystan for this amazing enterprise they’ve built.” A chorus of voices rang out in agreement. “And I want to publicly say just how proud my family and I are of our Trystan and the man he has become. To Trystan and Vienne.” He raised his glass and every other glass in the room followed.

“Trystan and Vienne!”
the crowd roared. It sounded like they had just gotten married, Trystan thought. And that realization sobered him.

His brother was right. He shouldn’t give up on her. Not yet. He had to try one last time.

Across the hall his gaze met hers and he raised his glass in salute. Her color was high and he wondered if she had thought of the toast in the same way he had.

“Go,” Archer whispered in his ear.

Trystan was just about to step forward when Vienne turned to her sister, breaking their gaze. “Later,” he said.

First, he needed another drink.

“Y
ou have been watching him all evening. Why don’t you talk to him?”

Vienne glanced at Aline over the rim of her champagne glass. “I’m not exactly certain of what I would say.” Her cheeks were still warm from that toast that sounded like something one would say at a wedding. She hadn’t missed the way His Grace had looked at her as he said it, with just the most subtle nod of his head. It was a blessing, if she had ever seen one—as though he welcomed her to his family.

Mon Dieu
.

“Perhaps . . . ‘I love you, please forgive me for being such a cabbage head’?”

She chuckled. “I have not been called a cabbage head for a long time.” Almost twenty years. Odd how she had despised the nickname as a child, but it sounded so good to her now.

“I cannot believe you still need to be called so,” her sister replied lightly. “Really, Vienne. You should take after me and be a highly intuitive, intelligent woman.”

Vienne arched a good-natured brow. “You have been engaged six times and married zero.”

Aline conceded with a slight shrug. “I have not found true love as you have.”

“Is it,” she asked softly, “true?”

Her sister sighed, her expression all exasperation. “He loves you still, after seven years apart. You love him enough that it scared you back then, and now makes you want to throw yourself at him. I say it doesn’t get much truer than that. Commence with the throwing.”

It had taken her a few days to become comfortable enough with her sisters to confess how she felt about Trystan, but after the initial reacquainting period they had fallen into old behaviors and comforts. It was as though twenty years hadn’t happened and they were family again. All forgiven—
almost
all forgotten—Mother and daughters so happy to be together again that nothing else mattered. There had been a lot of tears and many apologies.