Read Desperate Measures Online
Authors: Sara Craven
Desperate Measures (28 page)
- Oh, dear, Philippa thought. She's in love with him and hurting. I didn't bargain for this.
- Louis de Courcy cut in urbanely, 'You must allow me, Alain, to present your bride to these few friends who have gathered to meet her. This is, after all, a great day for our family.'
- And a nightmare for me, Philippa thought, as she was led round the circle. It was all very formal and correct, and she smiled politely until the corners of her mouth began to ache. Louis de Courcy performed the introductions in English. She was aware that she was being patronised, and resented it. Her French, culled from her wanderings with Gavin, was far superior to the usual schoolgirl variety. However, it gave her an advantage in that she could translate for herself the whispered comments which followed her round the circle. She understood that she was 'very young, very English'—'un peu gauche'—and, more tellingly, with a note of real malice, 'She will be no match for Marie-Laure, ma chere.'
- Her heart lurched, but her smile didn't falter. Marie-Laure, she thought. Presumably the woman in the scandal. "Well, at least, now, she had a name to attach to that sultry voice on the telephone.
- She had just completed the round of introductions when the door of the salon opened again, and Gaston ushered in the last arrivals, a man tall and distinguished-looking with grey hair and a moustache, and a much younger woman, blonde and very beautiful, the voluptuous magnificence of her figure set off by the daring chic of her expensive black dress.
- 'Monsieur le Baron de Somerville-Resnais,' Gaston announced into a sudden, profound silence. 'Madame la Baronne de Somerville-Resnais.'
- The room wasn't just quiet, Philippa realised. It was alive with tension, and a kind of excited expectancy that was almost tangible. She had the feeling that everyone present was holding his or her breath. She looked uncertainly across at Alain, who was standing at a small distance from her. For a moment she thought he'd been turned to stone. She saw too that he was very pale except for an angry flush along his cheekbones. Her heart thudding, she began to wonder.
- Louis de Courcy was hurrying forward, smiling expansively, his hands outstretched in welcome. 'Ah, mon ami, what a pleasure that you and your charming wife could join us! This is a joyous occasion, you understand. We are celebrating the marriage of my nephew Alain to a charming young girl from England. Allow me to present her.'
- Philippa was aware that Alain had come to her side. His face was impassive now, but as he took her hand in his and led her forward Philippa could feel the rage in him, dark and powerful as an electric current, communicating itself through the touch of his flesh on hers.
- This woman—this Baronne was Alain's mistress. This was Marie-Laure, she thought, nausea rising in her throat.
- And Alain's uncle had deliberately contrived this situation to embarrass them all—had invited the Baronne and her husband to come here tonight to force a confrontation, to reactivate all the gossip and
- rumour that their marriage had been supposed to defuse. To damage Alain all over again.
- The Baron was drawing himself up in outrage, his face glacial. He said, 'My dear de Courcy, this is a family occasion on which Marie-Laure and I should not intrude. Permit us to withdraw and leave you to your—celebration.'
- Which of course was exactly what Louis de Courcy wanted, Philippa realised in a flash. He had engineered it so that the Baron would leave in a jealous huff, causing a whole new scandal, giving him a whole new range of ammunition to fire at that crucial board meeting.
- She walked forward, smiling, holding out her hand. She said in perfect French, 'Oh, please don't go, monsieur. I'm having such a wonderful party, and it would spoil it if you—if anyone left. I would feel it was all my fault.' She let her voice become girlishly excited. 'Besides, there's going to be champagne! Surely you'll stay and drink to my happiness?'
- The Baron paused, his narrowed gaze flickering between Philippa and Alain. At last he said, 'Who could resist such a charming invitation, madame We will stay, naturally, and drink to your—health. Come, Marie-Laure.' He drew his wife's arm possessively through his and led her away.
- As the Baronne passed, Philippa was aware of a drift of some exotic, musky scent, and the sweep of a pair of deeply lashed violet eyes, assessing and dismissing her in one comprehensive glance. Marie-Laure de Somerville-Resnais shared, it seemed, the consensus of opinion that between Philippa and herself it would be no contest.
- A shaft of anger scored through Philippa, mixed with another emotion less easy to define. Presumably Alain had discussed his marriage with his mistress, told her the terms on which it was based. But that did not mean she merited the other woman's contempt, she told herself roundly. Who was Marie-Laure to judge—to criticise? On what terms had she herself married the Baron, who looked old enough to be her father?
- It was a relief when Gaston announced dinner. It was a long and tedious meal. Philippa, on edge, supposed the food was good, but tasted little of it. She wanted to talk to Alain—to warn him that their sham marriage hadn't fooled anyone for a moment— but he was at the other end of the table.
- 'Do tell us, my dear,' Josephine de Courcy leaned forward, her eyes unwinking as pebbles. 'You and dear Alain—such a romance—and so quick too! Quite fascinating. And the question we all wish to ask is— how did you meet?'
- Philippa, grimly aware that she was once more the centre of attention, forced a light smile. 'Was it really quick? I feel as if I've known Alain forever. We met through my father, actually. He's Gavin Roscoe, the landscape painter, and Alain bought one of his pictures—The Bridge at Montascaux.'
- There was an astonished silence. Philippa stole a look at Alain, whose whole attention appeared to be centred on the peach he was cutting into quarters.
- 'So you are an artist's daughter,' Louis de Courcy said jovially at last. 'Perhaps you will introduce a note of much-needed culture into our crude commercial world.' He laughed heartily, and was echoed by an
- uneasy ripple of amusement round the table. 'Do you share your father's interest in painting, ma chere?
- 'His interest, perhaps, but little of his talent, although I was actually at art school when Alain and I decided to marry,' Philippa returned composedly. 'In fact,' she added with sudden inspiration, 'I plan to continue my studies here in Paris with—Zak Gordano.'
- 'I am impressed,' Louis de Courcy said slowly. 'Monsieur Gordano has a formidable reputation as a teacher.'
- Philippa shrugged. 'Then I hope I can persuade him to take me as a pupil.'
- 'I do not think you need concern yourself on that score,' Sidonie said rudely. 'As Madame de Courcy, you will find all doors open to you.'
- 'Not Zak's,' Philippa told her coolly. 'Painting is what matters to him, not social standing.' Although the fact that he's a friend of my father's might help, she added silently, as she leaned back in her chair.
- 'Your wife, nephew, is clearly a woman of talent,' remarked Louis.
- 'Each day I spend with her brings some new and delightful surprise,' Alain said smoothly.
- Philippa shot him a glance under her lashes. His face revealed little, but she felt that delight was hardly his predominant emotion at her impulsive announcement.
- At the conclusion of dinner, the whole party adjourned to the salon. Conversation was desultory. Everyone seemed to have accepted that the promised sensation was not going to take place after all. The Baron and his wife were the first to leave, and not
- long after that Alain announced that he and Philippa were also departing.
- 'So soon?' his uncle queried. 'We are desolate.'
- 'And my wife and I are on our honeymoon,' Alain returned evenly. 'I am sure the company will understand, and forgive us.'
- They were in the limousine, travelling back towards the apartment, before Philippa could begin to relax.
- 'That,' she said with feeling, 'was a truly ghastly evening.'
- 'Which you handled with great aplomb. Please accept my thanks.' Alain paused. 'You understood at once, of course, why my uncle invited us there tonight?'
- 'It was fairly obvious.' Philippa drew a breath which ached in her chest. 'She's very beautiful—Madame de Somerville-Resnais.'
- 'Yes.' The flat monosyllable told her nothing, and it was too dark in the car for her to read his expression with any accuracy. He volunteered no other comment, and after a moment or two Philippa sighed soundlessly and settled back in her seat, resigning herself to a silent journey.
- When they reached the apartment, Alain excused himself with abstracted politeness and went to speak to the Giscards. Philippa made straight for her room. The tensions of the evening had given her a slight headache, which the journey home had done little to alleviate.
- Alain obviously had a great deal on his mind, she acknowledged, as she took off the jade green top and skirt, and began to remove her make-up. It must have been traumatic for him to be suddenly confronted by his mistress and her husband, quite apart from the
- possibility of an ugly scene. The sight of her must have revived all kinds of memories for him too, and made their enforced separation doubly bitter.
- As far as she was aware, Alain and the lovely Baronne had not exchanged as much as a private glance, let alone a word, unless they communicated in some secret lovers' code. But presumably they both intended the affair to continue at some time in the future.
- But Alain would have to be careful, she thought. The Baron was clearly a jealous and suspicious man, who would not hesitate, if provoked, to revenge himself in a very public way. And next time she might not be there to retrieve the situation.
- She gave a mental shrug. From now on that was Alain's problem, and he would have to deal with it. All she wanted to was lie down and sleep for eternity. Her siesta that afternoon had been little more than a restless doze punctuated by some frankly disturbing dreams. Try as she might, she had not been able to prevent memories—images from the previous night filtering into her consciousness. Or maybe she hadn't really wanted to forget...
- Her heart missed a sudden, startled beat and she swallowed, strangling the traitorous thought at birth. Of course it couldn't be that, she chided herself, as she unfastened her suspenders. She was just too tired to think rationally, that was all.
- She was standing in her ivory silk teddy, with one foot perched on the dressing stool, as she tried to slide off a gossamer stocking, when there was a brief tap at her door, and Alain walked in.
- He halted at once, his brows lifting in surprise, touched by amusement, as he assimilated her state of undress.
- 'Mille pardons,' he murmured, his mouth curving with a totally sensual awareness as he regarded the unknowing provocation of her pose.
- Blushing to the roots of her hair, Philippa hurriedly regained her balance, snatching up a robe in pale lemon shirred cotton and fastening it round her.
- 'Do you have to barge in like that?' she asked resentfully.
- He shrugged. 'I did not think you would have begun to undress so soon. And I wish to talk to you. Do you question my right to do so?'
- 'No,' she said in a low voice. 'But can't it wait until morning? I'm rather tired. I found the evening a strain...'
- 'I can only apologise for my uncle.' His voice was grim. 'He will go to any lengths, it seems, to embarrass and discredit me. Only this time, thanks to you, his scheme did not work.'
- 'But it might next time.' Philippa picked up a brush and began to stroke it over her hair. She did not look at Alain. 'We—we haven't fooled anyone, you know. They don't believe in our marriage. Everyone knows that your affair with the Baronne is still going on.'
- 'How clever of them,' Alain said bitingly. 'Then you and I, mignonne, will have to find a way to convince them that they are in error.' The words hung in a loaded silence. Then he said abruptly. 'What did you mean about resuming your art studies?'
- 'Exactly what I said.' She decided not to tell him that she had thought of it on the spur of the moment.
- Let him think it was a considered decision. 'My father always wanted me to study with Zak Gordano.'
- 'And what about my wishes in all this? Have you considered them at all?'
- 'Why should it bother you if I start painting again?' Philippa stared at him, her hand stilling.
- 'It might be better to—postpone your plans for a while. To concentrate your energies instead on learning to be my wife, perhaps?'
- Sudden colour flared in Philippa's face. She hurried into words. 'That's hardly going to fill my days. Your apartment is run like clockwork, and your other houses, I expect. I can't imagine the Giscards want my interference.'
- 'That is not precisely what I meant. There are other elements to our relationship, after all, besides housekeeping.'
- Philippa was silent for a moment, then she said quietly, 'I thought I'd learned all I need to know about—that too.'
- 'Oh, no, cherie.' Alain's voice was silky. 'You are not that naive.' He walked to her side and took the brush from her nerveless fingers, tossing it on to the dressing-table. His hand closed round hers, his thumb rubbing lightly, cajolingly over the inside of her wrist. 'Lovemaking is also an art, my wife, and your lessons in love are only just beginning.'
- Her pulses were going mad suddenly, fluttering, throbbing unevenly, and she was aware of each and every one of them.
- She snatched her hand away. 'I think you're confusing love with sex, monsieur,' she said huskily. 'And may I also remind you that you promised to leave me in peace tonight?'
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