The Price of Deception by Vicki Hopkins

down her cheeks.
    “I know.” Robert softened his harsh tone. “Believe
me, Jacquelyn, I know. I wish we had children. You know I do.”
    He released his firm grip and gathered his wife into
his arms. Robert kissed her gently on the cheek and then whispered
in her ear. “It will happen. Be patient.” He wanted to say that her
prayers would one day be answered, but something in his spirit told
him it was a lie.
    She wrapped her arm around his, and he patted her in
return. Their stroll continued in silence until he suggested a
change of plans.
    “When we return to England, I’ll invite Marguerite
and Lord Chambers to stay for a few weeks. They can bring their two
children, and we’ll let them run the estate and make a ruckus.
Would you like that?”
    “Yes, that would be nice,” Jacquelyn responded with
renewed enthusiasm. “I miss your sister. We have much to catch up
on and having children in the household would be a welcome sight
indeed.”
    “Good,” Robert concluded. “Then it’s done. I’ll pen a
letter to Marguerite before we sail home and ask that they meet us
upon our return to Surrey.”
    Convinced he had patched things up for the moment,
Robert directed his wife back toward the exit of the gardens. Their
outing had emotionally drained him; he had much to think about.
    The vision of the young boy, who held up his five
fingers and proudly announced his name of Robert Philippe Moreau,
brought a smile to his face. Robert struggled with the similarities
of name, appearance, and date of birth. He could very well be the
boy’s father. He wanted to believe it, though he had no proof.
    His existence eased the loss of Suzette, but he
realized Philippe Moreau would never allow him to know the truth.
The thought that he could be educating his son, shot a vulgar
flurry of curses through his troubled mind.
    “Robert, I’m tired. Can we go home?”
    Surprised at his wife’s request, he willingly agreed.
“Yes, of course.”
    They meandered their way back toward the exit of the
gardens. Robert glanced around watching for signs of Philippe, but
saw nothing. They had disappeared into the streets of Paris,
probably never to be seen again. For now, he would let the matter
go.
    * * * *
    Jacquelyn clung tenaciously to Robert’s hand to
steady her weak legs upon their return. The walk in the park had
done nothing to revive her spirits or her body. Perhaps a nap would
help instead.
    She noted Robert’s pensive face and forced smile his
way hoping to change his apathetic disposition. “Thank you,” she
spoke, batting her eyelashes at him in a flirtatious tease. He
remained unmoved and said nothing in response.
    After they arrived home, Jacquelyn handed her jacket
to Dorcas, who greeted them at the door. Her lady’s maid unpinned
her feathered hat. Jacquelyn watched her husband out of the corner
of her eye wondering what he would do next. The usual gloomy
demeanor had returned.
    “I’ll be in my study if you need me.” Jacquelyn’s
eyes followed him as he disappeared down the long hallway of their
Parisian townhouse. A moment later, Robert retreated from sight,
and Jacquelyn heard the latch of his door click shut.
    A sneer of disgust curled her lip, sick of the
multiple times he fled from her presence. He spent more hours
behind closed doors while in Paris than he had the past whole year
in London. Jacquelyn wondered why.
    It seemed a pattern had emerged over the years. They
had lived comfortably in their Surrey estate, but Robert maintained
his townhouse in London and the one in Paris. Jacquelyn adored
Paris thinking it the most beautiful city in the modern world. The
shopping—well, the shopping for any woman of title offered the best
in Europe. Fashions were at their pinnacle, and Jacquelyn loved to
amass the latest styles of gowns and hats from a world-famous haute
couture.
    Yet the fact remained that each holiday abroad,
Robert’s behavior changed. He became a recluse and preferred to
hide during the day.