The Caged Countess

‘I can see how it might. All the same, it seems a fitter setting for a young woman of means and beauty.’

‘Fit in whose eyes?’

The words were quietly spoken but, once again, he heard the challenge beneath. It prompted him to play devil’s advocate.

‘Your husband’s perhaps?’

‘His opinion is of no interest. He forfeited all right to express any views on the subject long since.’

‘The law would say otherwise.’

‘The law can say what it likes,’ she replied. ‘I will never let any man treat me as a chattel again.’

Duval was intrigued. The passion he had just glimpsed was not only genuine, it ran deep.

‘He hurt you badly, didn’t he?’

‘It hurt at first, but, as time went on, less and less. Now I scarcely think of him at all.’ Claudine summoned a smile and changed the subject. ‘Will you stay in London awhile when we reach England?’

‘For a while I imagine.’

‘Will you visit your family?’

‘I would not be welcome.’

She glanced up at him. ‘Time can change things.’

‘It can also widen the gulf.’ He sighed. ‘I will not pretend that my conduct has been blameless; far from it. Perhaps if I had gone back before it might have been possible to heal the breach. Now … I doubt it.’

‘May I ask how long you have been absent?’

‘Eight years.’

‘Oh.’ She paused. ‘That is a long time.’ If anyone should know about that it was she.

‘Too long.’

‘Still, it’s said that blood is thicker than water.’

‘You think so?’

She smiled wryly. ‘Well, the prodigal son was welcomed back, wasn’t he?’

‘The prodigal son perhaps; not the prodigal husband.’

Claudine froze, rendered temporarily speechless as her mind struggled to assimilate what he had just said. What followed was a flood of conflicting emotions.

‘I see.’ She was surprised to discover how steady her voice sounded.

He had not missed her initial response. ‘The situation is not as it may first appear. My wife and I have long been estranged.’

‘I’m sorry to hear it.’

‘Our marriage was arranged by our respective families and neither of us had any say in the matter. It was a disaster from the outset. As a result we live quite separate lives.’

She drew in a deep breath, trying to gather her scattered wits. She had made assumptions about this man that had no foundation in anything, except perhaps wishful thinking. It shouldn’t have hurt but it did.

‘And so you are free to amuse yourself elsewhere,’ she replied. ‘That must be convenient.’

His brows drew together. ‘My career has taken the place of marriage and has been a most demanding mistress. Even if I’d felt so inclined, I have had little time to amuse myself elsewhere, and certainly would not do so with you.’

‘Just how gullible do you think I am, Duval?’

‘What happened in Paris was unavoidable, in the circumstances.’

‘What happened was indefensible, in the circumstances.’

His gaze locked with hers. ‘I’m not going to pretend I didn’t want you, Claudine. What red-blooded man would not?’ He made a vague gesture with his hand. ‘Nevertheless, I never intended things to go so far. It’s just that I got somewhat carried away by your charms. If you were offended then I apologise.’

There were so many things she could have said in reply, but none of them would have sounded in the least convincing. It horrified her now to think how close she had come to disaster with this man; a man who clearly regarded her as a whore. Gathering every last shred of self-control she faced him.

‘The situation that occurred in Paris was unfortunate. I wish it had never happened, but the past cannot be changed. All I want is to forget it.’

He winced inwardly. ‘In that case I will do nothing that might cause you to remember.’

She nodded. ‘Thank you.’

He made no reply but turned away towards the window instead. It was an unstudied gesture but it unwittingly presented the unmarred side of his face. Claudine caught her breath. His profile was as strong and clear as a piece of marble statuary. The thought of Apollo returned unbidden. As she stared the buried memory stirred again. This had nothing to do with Paris. It was much older; a memory of another face in another place and time. Her heart beat a little faster in response. Who? Where? When? She frowned, trying to grasp the information, but, as before, it slid away from her leaving in its wake a sense of vague disquiet.

Chapter Four

The conversation had given Duval a great deal to think about over the next few days, not least the matter of his private life. It was a confounded mess but, much as he dreaded the thought, fate was dragging him back to England and he was going to have to address it. Could he return after so long an absence and expect to assume the mantle of husband? The law said he could. Legally his wife belonged to him still. He could compel her to live with him if he chose; could compel her to share his bed, bear his children and obey his every command. Legally his power was absolute.

In reality, he had no idea what he was going to do about the situation, only that he did have a responsibility. At the very least he must ascertain that his wife was still well and ensure that his financial obligations were being met. More than that, they needed to have a serious discussion. He had no more wish to live with her than she with him. It was entirely possible that she had found consolation elsewhere; that she might ask for an annulment. Then they would both be free to move on with their lives. And if he were free, what then? Involuntarily he glanced at his companion and sighed inwardly. Before he could put his life in order he had first to fulfil his present obligation to Claudine. After that they would go their separate ways and he would be able to concentrate unhindered on the problem of his future. He might have resumed his career in the army had not Napoleon been sent to Elba. As it was, thousands of British soldiers had been demobilised so that door was closed. Although it was far from ideal, espionage looked to be the only other option at present. There were loose ends to tie up as well, and he couldn’t do that now until he’d dealt with personal matters.

It was therefore with considerable relief that he caught his first glimpse of the sea. The distant expanse of grey-green water represented safety. Once on English soil, Claudine would be beyond the reach of Fouché and his agents. That much was sincerely pleasing. The thought of her, or indeed any woman, in such hands was repellent. However, the sea also brought parting much closer. Duval guessed she would not be sorry. Her manner of late, though correct and courteous, was also distant. He understood why. For both of them the imminent separation would be welcome. Once he had resolved the issues surrounding his personal life, he would ask for another posting. Work would provide the means to keep his mind occupied. He suspected that Claudine would be hard to forget, but he meant to try all the same. For all sorts of reasons he too would be glad to reach England.

The passage to St Helier was arranged without undue difficulty. The owner of the boat was quite willing to undertake the journey for the fee that was offered. Claudine eyed him dubiously. The man, who gave his name as Pierre, was a rough-looking individual whose swarthy face and dark beard wouldn’t have seemed out of place on a pirate sloop. She said as much to Duval when they were out of earshot.

‘Pierre is trustworthy,’ he said. ‘He and I have worked together before.’

‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’ she replied.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You both have a piratical air about you.’

Duval’s good eye glinted. ‘Be thankful I’m not a pirate, my sweet.’