A Daughter's Destiny (33 page)

“Come and eat.” Taking her hand, he jerked her toward him. He smiled and stroked her face. She tried to twist away, but he pushed her into a chair. “If you sicken and die now, I risk losing your father's lovely château. You would not want to do that and disappoint your loving husband, would you?”

“You shall not have Château Tonnere du Grêlon!”

“You are wrong. It finally will belong to me as it should have long ago.”

“What?”

He laughed. “I guess that is one story your grandmother failed to tell you. How Château Tonnere du Grêlon was supposed to be given to the LaPortes because my father provided the proof that Marc-Michel Levesque was a traitor to the Revolution.”

“LaPorte?” she choked. This man was the one her mother had warned her about, for
la porte
translated as “the door.” Maman had not been out of her mind with pain. She had been completely lucid.

“We found that the English welcomed us more when we anglicized our name.” He smiled. “And it kept our enemies from finding us.”

“I am sure you had many enemies after betraying innocent men to death.”

He laughed. “The guillotine took care of most of them. Unfortunately the tide of sentiment turned before my father could secure his claim on Château Tonnere du Grêlon.” He lifted his fork. “To Armistead LaPorte and his son, the Duc of Château Tonnere du Grêlon.”

When he began to eat, she stared at her empty plate. His silence told her what she did not want to admit to. The rest of her life, she would have to give to this man, her husband, everything she owned, including her pride.

Through the meal, Armistead exulted in his windfall. More than once, he looked at her as if daring her to refute his words. She remained silent, but as her thoughts became clearer, she began to plot how she would escape. If he was her husband, she could never completely be free while he lived, but she did not think of that. She must find Evan. With his help, she would figure out how to save Grand-mère and develop a plan to disappear.

Brienne looked up as the door opened again. Her eyes widened when Louisa swept into the room and put her arms around Armistead, her fingers slipping beneath the open front of his wrapper. His glided up along her pale pink wrapper to stroke her as boldly.

“Good morning, my love,” Louisa whispered, firing a sly glance at Brienne. “She looks quite shocked. I thought you were going to wait for me to join you before you revealed the truth to her. Have you told her everything?”

He kissed Louisa deeply, then turned to Brienne. “Almost everything. She knows she is my wife, and the château soon will be mine as well.” He laughed as his avaricious gaze swept along her. “However, I thought I would save the best until you got here.”

Chapter Twenty

Brienne pushed herself to her feet. “I have heard all I wish to hear.” Hoping her legs would not fail her now, she edged toward the door.

“Stop her, Armistead!” Louisa cried. “You promised me that I could watch when you told her about what you have done with her grandmother.”

Gripping the back of a chair, Brienne turned to stare, aghast, at them. She had never guessed that evil would be dressed in elegant silk and lace. “You? You are Lagrille?” She swallowed hard. “
La grille
. The gate instead of the door? Have you had fun hiding the truth from us?”

“Yes, to be quite honest.” He dabbed his lips with a napkin and stood.

“Where is my grandmother?”

“She is unharmed, and she will stay that way as long as you cooperate.” His lips curled. “I would not say the same for your paramour.”

“Evan!” Her fingers dug into the upholstery. “If you have hurt him, I shall—”

“You shall do as I tell you, and so will he.” He smiled icily. “I had not expected you to fall for his well-known seductive wiles when I sent him to find that thunderstone vase knowing the
duc's
daughter should be where it was. I had guessed you would be too wise for that, but it appears you are as foolish and trusting as your father was.”

As Evan has been
. She never would have guessed the time might come when she would be amazed that Evan had swallowed a clanker whole. He had not trusted LaPorte, but he had counted him among his “friends.”

“I believe you shall find that neither Evan nor I will follow your orders willingly,” she replied, her chin high.

“Then, you shall be sorry.”

“I doubt if I could be much sorrier than I am now to find myself the wife of such a cur.”

When he reached for her, she kept the chair between them. He did not let her elude him. Grasping her arm, he tugged her to him. “Look at me,” he ordered.

“Let me go!”

“I said ‘look at me!'” He smiled as she moaned with pain when his fingers twisted in her hair and jerked her head back. “That is better, Brienne.”

“You are hurting me!”

“Which I will continue to do if you do not obey me.”

She gasped as he pulled her head back farther, then clamped her lips closed, determined not to give him any more pleasure at her pain.

Releasing her, he growled a curse. He took Louisa by the hand and tugged her to the door.

“But, Armistead, this is fun,” his mistress whined. “Why are you making me leave so soon?”

“Because there are some parts of this that you cannot be a part of.” He shoved her out the door and closed it. With a low laugh, he locked it.

Tensing, Brienne could not keep from shrieking when he gripped her shoulders and brought her against him. She winced as his fingers combed through her hair.

“You are quite beautiful,” he murmured against her ear while he reached for the sash at her waist.

“I thought you said I should not take on airs simply because Evan and I …” She shoved his hand away. “Leave me alone.”

“You are my wife. I have a right to do whatever I wish with you.” He eased a finger under her sash. “It shall not be difficult to beget a
duc
with you.”

She backed away and choked on her horror when she bumped into the bed. “Go to your mistress! Let her give you a child.”

“That matter is already taken care of.” He gave her a boastful smile. “Most convenient, for now I can concentrate on you.”

“Release my grandmother first.”

“You are in no position to make demands, Brienne. However, I will let you see her if you give me the thunder-stone vase.”

“The vase?” She stared at him in disbelief. “What do you need it for? I thought you were using it as a ruse to have Evan find me.”

He laughed. “You fool! Do you think you will be able to walk into Napoleon's court, and he will give you the title and the château? You need proof that you are Levesque's daughter.”

“The vase is gone, destroyed in the fire.”

“Don't think me as witless as your lover! I know it was not destroyed because you were seen carrying a bag out of the salon and heard to tell your grandmother that it must not be dropped.” He smiled and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “No more talk, wife. I want to see you naked. Undress!”

“No!”

His eyes sparkled with malicious expectation as he drew off his robe and threw it over a chair. “Obey me, or I shall make this very unpleasant for you.”

He reached for her. She screamed and turned to run. Her weak legs betrayed her. As she collapsed, he scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed. She slapped him, but he shoved her viciously into the mattress. Her breath was ragged in her ears as she struggled to escape.

“Good,” he murmured, pinning her legs beneath his. “Fight me, Brienne.”

“Stop! Stop this. Please! I will give you the château. It is yours.”

“It can be mine only with you as my wife.” He gripped the front of her wrapper and tugged until it came open. With a smile, he reached for the hooks along the back of her nightdress. The threads holding them snapped. When she opened her mouth to cry for help, he covered it with his own and reached for the hem of her gown.

Twisting away to avoid his mouth, Brienne realized he was not going to waste time in undressing her. He would rape her immediately, then return to do the same for the rest of the day … for the rest of her life. Tears rolled along her cheeks as she sought anything to halt him.

Her fingers struck the side of the table next to the bed. As he pulled the neckline of her nightdress lower, she gripped another of the figurines clustered there. She raised it and smashed it over his head.

He dropped heavily onto her. Shoving him aside, she wiggled out from beneath him. She fell onto the floor with a thump.

Rising, she rushed to the dressing room door that was ajar. She smiled when she saw her clothes tossed on the floor within. Quickly she dressed, then went to the hall door and slid aside the lock.

Brienne opened the door and peered both ways along the hall. She smiled. Armistead's determination to keep anyone from hearing him rape her must have banished the servants from this part of the house. Louisa would be pouting in her room, so Brienne need not worry about her. If Brienne could reach the ground floor, she could slip out without anyone being the wiser. She needed only to look as if nothing were amiss, and no one would take note of her until it was too late. That was something she had learned from Evan.

She faltered as she walked toward the servants' stairs. LaPorte knew where her grandmother was. If she left now.… She quivered with horror at what would happen if she remained. She must find allies who would help her help Grand-mère.

As she began to pick her way down the shadowed stairs, she knew the price of failure. She would be returned to LaPorte as his wife. Her father's legacy would be handed over to his enemy's son. Worst of all, she feared for Evan's life and her grandmother's. LaPorte would not allow Evan and Grand-mère to be witnesses against him when he went to claim Château Tonnere du Grêlon.

Brienne could not fail in this and let him capture her again.

She could not.

Evan stood with his hands folded behind his back. When he realized he had stood just like this so many times in this room, he let his arms drop to his sides. He had to be careful what he said. The wrong word would be disastrous now.

“Do you have something to say, or did you only wish to see if I would receive you?” Lord Sommerton scowled from where he sat in the leather chair in his favorite room, looking out through the branches of the trees in the middle of Berkeley Square. A fire played on the hearth, but was dimmed by the sunshine coming through the window that swept from floor to ceiling. Dozens of pieces of artwork were displayed on the mantel. That love of art was something he had bequeathed to his son, whether he was glad of that or not.

A cup of steaming chocolate waited on a table near his father's hand, and the day's newspaper was folded neatly beside it. In the decade since Evan had left Sommerton Hall, his father had not altered his habits, it appeared.

“I find it advisable to choose my words carefully,” Evan replied.

“A change.”

He smiled coolly as he shook his head. “Quite to the contrary. My words to you, sir, have always been well thought out.”

“If you called only to tell me that you have not changed, I see no reason to continue this conversation.”

Evan started to reply, but the door opened, striking him in the center of the back and pushing him forward into a chair. Before he could even curse at the pain scoring his shin, someone ran past him.

“I tried to persuade her to wait,” he heard the butler say.

His head snapped up when another voice, the very voice that filled his sweetest fantasies, said, “My lord, forgive the intrusion, but I have nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to turn. I need your help.”

In disbelief, Evan stared at Brienne, who was kneeling by his father's chair, grasping his father's sleeve. She was here? How had she gotten here? He had been very careful not to let her know that his parents kept a town-house on Berkeley Square, because he wanted to protect her from the sharp edge of his father's tongue. If she had inquired about the location of this house among the
ton
or the lower classes, he would certainly have heard of it. He scowled, knowing what must have sent her fleeing here.

He put his hands on her arms and drew her to her feet. When she cried out his name and flung her arms around him, he pressed her cheek to his chest. Her trembling told him that the tale he had not wanted to believe must be true. Curse Devereux for failing to find him until not more than an hour ago!

“Miss LeClerc,” said his father, coming to his feet, “please sit down while I ring for another cup of hot chocolate.”

If his father thought he could ease her despair like this, he was a fool. His father locked gazes with him, and Evan knew his father was not a beef-head. The earl wanted to give Brienne a chance to compose herself before asking her how she had gotten here and why. That was something Evan wanted to know, too. The information Devereux had given him was the very reason that Evan had come here.

“I am so glad you have decided to return my call,” Lord Sommerton continued.

Evan's frown deepened.
Return his call?
Brienne had not mentioned that his father had given her a look-in at Grosvenor Square. He shook his irritation from his head. The past no longer mattered. He had admitted to that when he arrived here just before Brienne.

Softly he said, “I am glad Father visited you, honey, if that is how you knew where to come for help.”

“What are you doing here, Evan?” she asked.

“The same as you.” He gave her a weak grin. “Looking for any help I can get to find your grandmother.”

“LaPorte has her!”

His frown returned. “LaPorte? Who is that?”

“Armistead Porter. His real name is LaPorte. He is French.” She choked, “And he hired you under the name of Lagrille to find me.”