her, looking down at her apprehensive, upturned face. ‘You have led a sheltered life under the harsh eye of your aunt, who has rigid rules when it comes to raising young ladies of breeding and class. May I give you a word of advice, Maria? Common sense will always stand you in better stead than a slavish adherence to conventions.’
The shamed colour faded from Maria’s cheeks and the hostility in her eyes was replaced by interest. ‘If common sense is preferable to convention, then it is a point of view in complete opposition to the teachings of my aunt and the many governesses who had charge of Constance and me over the years.’
‘It is my point of view, and I know I’m right—otherwise what do you think would have happened had I not apprehended your drunken admirer when I saw him come up the stairs and approach your door?’
She stared at him in horror, her hand going to her throat. ‘He wasn’t! You mean he actually intended to come in here? But—no man would dare to come to a lady’s room, knowing they might encounter an irate husband.’
Charles nodded gravely. ‘He most certainly was—until I—persuaded him to think again.’
‘And the pistol? Is that part of the remedy to use against that—that oaf?’
‘If need be—which I doubt.’ His eyes glinted wickedly. ‘The man is no longer in any fit state to climb the stairs, let alone molest a young woman in her bed.’
Her eyes widened with alarm. ‘Why, what have you done to him?’
‘Let’s just say that at this time he will be sleeping like the proverbial babe.’ He looked at her through narrowed eyes, his firm lips curving in a gently mocking smile. ‘You left your door unlocked, otherwise how do you think I got in?’
‘But you should not be here.’
A crooked smile accompanied his reply. ‘And where would you have me go—to sleep outside your door, perhaps, which would be considered by some to be mostodd and raise more than a few eyebrows? And if you’re thinking of your aunt,’ he said, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, as if he expected the formidable woman to emerge at any minute, ‘don’t. She need never know.’
On consideration, Maria had to admit that he was right. ‘I never had a very high opinion of my aunt. It never occurred to me to question her authority and her rightness on her view on behaviour and etiquette. It just wasn’t done.’
‘I understand that, and in an ideal France, as it is in England, it isn’t the practice for young ladies to question their elders. But these are not ideal times—far from it. People are finding themselves in all kinds of different, often violent, situations. No doubt your aunt will look upon what I consider to be eminently sensible proceedings as entirely scandalous.’
‘And she would have regarded me, as the recipient of them, as something close to a fallen woman. With her inflexible code of what is right, when placed in the balance against the strict preservation of the social conventions, she would rather you had abandoned me to the advances of that oaf downstairs than for you to spend the entire night alone with me in this room.’
‘So you do accept that my point of view is infinitely more practical than your aunt’s?’
A smile broke out on her lips that brought a dimple in the gentle curve of her cheek. She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, conscious of a sudden sense of being released from a kind of bondage, as though some mental steel thread that still tethered her to the Chateau Feroc had snapped.
Watching her, it was the first time that Charles had seen her really smile since she had left the chateau. Buthe did not return it. Gazing down at her, she seemed older somehow. Her face was gently flushed, and the shadows under the wide dark eyes made them appear even larger. The whiteness of her modest nightdress was stark against the looseness of her hair that tumbled about her in rippling profusion, glinting with blue lights in the dimly lit room.
Charles
The shamed colour faded from Maria’s cheeks and the hostility in her eyes was replaced by interest. ‘If common sense is preferable to convention, then it is a point of view in complete opposition to the teachings of my aunt and the many governesses who had charge of Constance and me over the years.’
‘It is my point of view, and I know I’m right—otherwise what do you think would have happened had I not apprehended your drunken admirer when I saw him come up the stairs and approach your door?’
She stared at him in horror, her hand going to her throat. ‘He wasn’t! You mean he actually intended to come in here? But—no man would dare to come to a lady’s room, knowing they might encounter an irate husband.’
Charles nodded gravely. ‘He most certainly was—until I—persuaded him to think again.’
‘And the pistol? Is that part of the remedy to use against that—that oaf?’
‘If need be—which I doubt.’ His eyes glinted wickedly. ‘The man is no longer in any fit state to climb the stairs, let alone molest a young woman in her bed.’
Her eyes widened with alarm. ‘Why, what have you done to him?’
‘Let’s just say that at this time he will be sleeping like the proverbial babe.’ He looked at her through narrowed eyes, his firm lips curving in a gently mocking smile. ‘You left your door unlocked, otherwise how do you think I got in?’
‘But you should not be here.’
A crooked smile accompanied his reply. ‘And where would you have me go—to sleep outside your door, perhaps, which would be considered by some to be mostodd and raise more than a few eyebrows? And if you’re thinking of your aunt,’ he said, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, as if he expected the formidable woman to emerge at any minute, ‘don’t. She need never know.’
On consideration, Maria had to admit that he was right. ‘I never had a very high opinion of my aunt. It never occurred to me to question her authority and her rightness on her view on behaviour and etiquette. It just wasn’t done.’
‘I understand that, and in an ideal France, as it is in England, it isn’t the practice for young ladies to question their elders. But these are not ideal times—far from it. People are finding themselves in all kinds of different, often violent, situations. No doubt your aunt will look upon what I consider to be eminently sensible proceedings as entirely scandalous.’
‘And she would have regarded me, as the recipient of them, as something close to a fallen woman. With her inflexible code of what is right, when placed in the balance against the strict preservation of the social conventions, she would rather you had abandoned me to the advances of that oaf downstairs than for you to spend the entire night alone with me in this room.’
‘So you do accept that my point of view is infinitely more practical than your aunt’s?’
A smile broke out on her lips that brought a dimple in the gentle curve of her cheek. She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, conscious of a sudden sense of being released from a kind of bondage, as though some mental steel thread that still tethered her to the Chateau Feroc had snapped.
Watching her, it was the first time that Charles had seen her really smile since she had left the chateau. Buthe did not return it. Gazing down at her, she seemed older somehow. Her face was gently flushed, and the shadows under the wide dark eyes made them appear even larger. The whiteness of her modest nightdress was stark against the looseness of her hair that tumbled about her in rippling profusion, glinting with blue lights in the dimly lit room.
Charles
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