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“Of course, Comtesse.”
She drew him away from the others, steering him toward the pond. She smelled faintly of apples and champagne, and he placed his own hand over hers, feeling the heat of her skin through their gloves.
“My lord, I thought we had agreed at breakfast that no more should be said on the topic of Paris.” She said this lightly, but her eyes were fierce.
“I don’t recall agreeing to that. In fact, to do so would be irresponsible. Your friends should be apprised of the situation. They would do well to protect themselves and their families.”
Her hand on his forearm tightened, and he looked down at her slim fingers encased in white gloves. “My friends do not want to be warned. They want to have an enjoyable outing, and as this is my first house party since my husband’s death, I ask that you not ruin it with your dire pronouncements.”
Hugh stopped and turned to look directly into her face. His mouth went slightly dry at the fierceness of her expression. She had strength and courage, misplaced as it was. “Comtesse, I know you have been in mourning. You have been in seclusion. Perhaps you do not fully understand the situation in your adopted country. You and the rest of your class are in danger. I cannot say it more clearly. Your sister and mother are in London. They wish you to join them. Why not go to them until this unrest quiets?”
She shook her head. “I may be part English, but I am also part French. My husband was French. I have land and responsibilities here. It is my country, and I will not flee like a puppy with her tail between her legs. The king and the Palace of Versailles are less than a mile away. I assure you, we are quite safe here.”
She wasn’t safe, and he didn’t know what more he could do to sway her opinion. He would have liked to pick her up, toss her over his shoulder, and carry her away. But as enjoyable as that would be, he was supposed to be a civilized man, and she was an independent woman.
“Then you will not come with me to Calais in the morning?” he asked.
“No. I will stay here and defend what is mine and my family’s.”
He changed direction, pulling her into the shade of a tree and thus out of the view of the other guests. She stepped away from him, her back to the tree trunk. Hugh leaned close to her, boxing her in. It was the sort of thing he wouldn’t normally do to a woman, but she left him little choice. “And how do you think to defend yourself?” The scent of apples and pine tickled his nose, making him even more aware of her. “Do you suppose your servants are loyal to you? You are afraid to speak freely in front of them. Do you have an army hiding somewhere we cannot see? When the mobs of Paris march on the palace and Versailles, how will you defend yourself?”
“It will never come to that, monsieur. The unrest in Paris will be put down, and all will be well.” She gave him a small shove backward and gestured toward the lake. “Now, which boat shall we take?”
Hugh took her hand in his and lifted it to his mouth. He paused, lips brushing over her glove, his eyes meeting hers. Her breath hitched slightly, and he watched her throat work as she swallowed. “Forgive me,” he murmured. “I’ve had enough of rowing in circles for one day. Excuse me.”
He dropped her hand and took long strides back toward the château.
Three
Angelette had hopednot to see Daventry again. She’d hoped he would stay confined to his chamber until such time as he could arrange transport to Calais. She was not so fortunate. First, he attended dinner, where he insisted on discussing what he’d seen in Paris with the Marquis de Caritat. Angelette had managed to steer the conversation away, but she was growing quite weary of the viscount’s dire prophecies. She was not fully able to control the conversation, however, as she was distracted by her staff. She had instructed her butler she wanted one footman to serve each guest at dinner. Instead, several guests had to share a footman and thus had to wait at times for their requests to be granted.
Between dinner and the ball, she’d had to change hastily into her scarlet ball gown as the butler had requested a moment of her time to tell her several of the male servants had become ill and had taken to their beds. It was all quite strange as everyone had seemed perfectly well earlier in the day.
And then the string quartet had been a trio. The cellist had gone home to see to an emergency. Angelette found herself in the position of having to apologize to her guests yet again. The house party was to go on two more days, and she could only hope this would be the last of the inconveniences. Still, after all of Daventry’s dire predictions, she couldn’t help feel that the servants’ absences felt suspicious. Was she blind to what was really happening?
It didn’t help that she’d been distracted by thoughts of the viscount all afternoon. How had he managed to make a kiss on the hand—herglovedhand—so erotic? For the first time in months and months she’d felt the heat of attraction and arousal. She’d tried to convince herself it was because he was a novelty, someone new among the same group of powdered and stuffed men she usually surrounded herself with.
