Christian Seaton: Duke Of Danger

‘If you would stop the carriage now?’ Lisette requested. ‘I believe I might be able to walk back to the tavern from here.’ Although she could not say she relished the idea; Helene had warned her that pickpockets—and worse—lurked upon these streets after dark, in search of the unwary and the drink-sodden, and they did not return to their lairs until daybreak. The thought of being accosted by such people as she walked back to the tavern was enough to cause her to tremble.

Christian suspected that there was more about him that ‘displeased’ Helene Rousseau than his overt flirtation with her young niece.

As for his allowing Lisette to depart his carriage now... ‘We will return to my home first, where we can sit and talk in warmth and comfort—’

‘Oh, but—’

‘If you still wish to return home afterwards—’ he talked over what he knew was going to be Lisette’s protest ‘—I will bring you back in my carriage.’

‘There is no “if” about it, monsieur,’ she assured him firmly. ‘Nor do I wish to go to your home; an unmarried lady does not enter the house of an unmarried gentleman without causing severe damage to her reputation.’

The fact that Lisette currently lived in a lowly tavern with a woman such as Helene Rousseau was surely already damage enough to her reputation?

As if aware of his thoughts, a blush now appeared in Lisette’s cheeks. ‘I did not always live in a tavern, monsieur,’ she informed him stiffly. ‘Until just two months ago I lived on a farm in the country with my...with relatives.’

Very curious...

Although it would explain why there had never been any mention of Lisette in the reports made by other agents for the Crown, in connection to Helene or André Rousseau.

‘I, for one, am grateful that your aunt brought you to live with her in Paris,’ he drawled.

‘My aunt?’ Lisette repeated sharply.

‘Mademoiselle Rousseau,’ Christian supplied slowly even as he looked at Lisette searchingly; she seemed surprised—shocked?—by his knowledge of her relationship to the older woman. ‘She explained your connection to me earlier this evening,’ he added gently.

Lisette moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘Yes, of course...my aunt,’ she rallied slightly, even tried to smile a little.

Christian was not fooled for a moment by Lisette’s attempt to cover her confusion.

He just had no idea as to the reason for that confusion...

Chapter Three (#ulink_aeb9d625-5cc3-5ace-9c07-2ade6b592261)

Lisette was so taken aback by the Comte de Saint-Cloud’s comment regarding her relationship to Helene that she could think of nothing more to add to the conversation.

Of course she accepted that it would have been awkward for Helene to suddenly produce a fully grown daughter.

But surely no more awkward than it was for that fully grown daughter to suddenly discover that the couple she had thought were her parents were not even related to her, and that instead the cold and haughty Helene Rousseau was actually her mother?

Even so, Lisette had not realised until now that Helene had not publicly claimed her as her daughter at all, but instead only as her niece.

She was not sure how she felt about that.

‘Lisette...?’

She had been so deeply in thought that she had not realised the carriage had come to a halt, and that a groom now stood beside the open door waiting for her and the Comte to alight.

Which must mean, whilst she had been lost in thought, they had arrived at the Comte de Saint-Cloud’s home.

She gave a firm shake of her head. ‘I wish to return to the tavern now, monsieur.’

‘Why?’

‘Why? Because...well, because—’

‘What so urgently awaits you there, Lisette, that you cannot spare a few minutes to sit and share a glass of wine with me?’ the Comte teased softly.

It was not her time that concerned Lisette, but her reputation.

At the same time she felt slightly rebellious after learning that Helene chose to claim her only as her niece—that relationship implying she was the daughter of a man, Helene’s brother André, who was now dead.

Also, Lisette did not think that the Comte had taken her at all seriously when she had tried to warn him of the possible danger he was in from Helene Rousseau.

‘Very well, monsieur, but a few minutes only.’ She nodded as she moved forward to step down from the carriage onto the cobbled street, her eyes widening as she looked up at the huge and imposing four-storey house before her. The Comte de Saint-Cloud’s Paris home?

Lisette had never seen such a grand house as this, let alone been inside one. She only did so now because the Comte, having ordered the coachman to wait, now took a firm hold of her arm to walk up the steps to the huge front door now being held open by a man dressed in full livery.

The candlelit and cavernous entrance hall took her breath away, with its pale blue walls with gold-inlaid panels, ornate statues and the wide and sweeping staircase to the gallery, a huge crystal chandelier suspended from the high ceiling above.

Lisette felt small, and totally insignificant, amongst such grandeur.

‘Brandy and wine in the library, François,’ Christian instructed as he handed his coat and cloak to the other man before picking up a candelabrum to light their way through the entrance hall, on his way to the only room in the house he could tolerate for any length of time. The previous owner had possessed an air for the dramatic and ornate in regard to decor, one that did not suit Christian’s more elegantly subdued tastes at all.

He could see at a glance that their surroundings had made Lisette shrink back into herself, her face appearing very pale beneath the rim of her black bonnet. Or perhaps that was through nerves at her own temerity in entering the home of a single gentleman? Whichever of those things it was, Christian did not enjoy seeing her so discomfited.

‘Sit down in a chair by the fire,’ he bade lightly once they had entered the book-lined library, the warmth of a fire crackling in the grate. Hopefully, the heat would bring some colour back into Lisette’s cheeks.

‘Just for a moment.’ Lisette looked so tiny, defenceless, as she sat in the huge wingback armchair, her feet barely touching the ground as she held her gloved hands out towards the flames.

‘Merci, François, that will be all for tonight.’ Christian continued to watch Lisette as he spoke to the other man distractedly, the butler placing the silver tray with the drinks on down onto a side table before departing.

Christian still wondered if Lisette’s air of innocence, her reluctance to enter the house with him, could all be an act for his benefit, as he turned his attention to pouring the brandy and wine into two glasses. There was only one way to find out.

But first...

‘Your wine, Lisette.’ He held the crystal glass out to her.

‘Merci.’

Christian gave a rueful smile as she took care for her gloved fingers not to come into contact with his own as she took the glass from him. ‘What shall we drink to?’ he mused. ‘Our continued...friendship, perhaps?’

Lisette felt slightly disconcerted by the Comte’s close proximity as he made no effort to step away from where she sat after handing her the glass of wine.

He was just so—overpoweringly immediate in these more intimate surroundings. Seemed so much bigger, more imposing even than he had been in the tavern earlier or in his carriage on the journey here.

His shoulders were so wide—and dependable?—his chest and arms muscled beneath the fine cut of his coat, as if he spent much of his time pursuing the gentlemanly sports, such as fencing and swordplay, rather than in the drinking salons, and taverns such as the Fleur de Lis.

His fashionably overlong hair shone a pure gold in the candlelight and was rakishly tousled. As for the effect of those long-lashed lavender-coloured eyes in that harshly handsome and lightly tanned face; Lisette truly had never seen such beautiful eyes before, on a man or a woman.