Madeleine's Christmas Wish (10 page)

That was something he'd rather not think about.

“I will do as you say. What will you do with Armand?”

“I'll have him secure the exits and come in through the back.” He placed her cloak around her shoulders. “Let's be off.”

Light fluffy flakes of snow began to fall as they strode rapidly through the town skirting the Christmas market. If all went well, later he'd escort Madeleine to the booths shopping.

Armand had sent a footman to the stables, and their horses were ready when they arrived, as well as a rough cart, which would be used for either Coupe's baggage or his body. Georges really didn't care which. At the very least, the villain had coerced a helpless woman and her daughter. Thank God he and Madeleine had taken the
diligence
. Otherwise they would have never arrived in time. He had no doubt Coupe would have murdered Armand.

Fifteen minutes later, they were galloping over barren fields, skirting vineyards, until Armand pulled his horse up and pointed. “You see the trees ahead? They are a windbreak for the garden. We'll ride alongside them to the stables. That's where most of our men will be.”

A few minutes later, Madeleine grinned at the expressions on their workers' faces when Armand opened the stable door and they led their horses in.

“Mademoiselle, monsieur!”

Her brother shook hands and clapped the men on their backs. They bowed to her, sliding glances at Georges standing beside her.

“You've come to remove Monsieur Coupe?” one of the men asked.

Her brother's smile widened. “We have. What can you tell us about him?”

Someone spit. It turned out Coupe had been enjoying himself, acting as the lord of the manor, and not rising until the morning was well advanced.

“Mademoiselle, he told us you were dead,” an older grizzled groom by the name of Jacques said.

Madeleine had no doubt if left in the brothel she would have soon been dead. “I fear he greatly exaggerated the circumstances.” She turned to Georges. “This is my husband, the Marquis Cruzy-le-Châtel.”

Once the congratulations had been said, Georges nodded to Armand. “We need to get this over with. I'd like to catch him still abed.”

“He won't be alone,” Jacques said. “Pardon, madame, but you need to know that. He brought some woman in. I think he knew her from before.”

“It's fine. Thank you for telling me. If he is indeed in bed, I'll remain in the corridor.”

As discussed, Armand and most of the servants made their way around back. She and Georges, followed by Jacques and his son, Pierre, walked up the front steps. She drew out the key and unlocked the door. It swung open on well-oiled hinges. “This way.”

Moving as silently as possible, they were soon at the count's bedchamber. She was about to ask what they'd do now, but Georges held a finger to his lips and opened the door. The bed hangings were still closed. He quietly entered the room, drawing the curtains back. Coupe was alone. Georges glanced over his shoulder, and Pierre left, probably to find the woman.

Madeleine stood as silently as she could, while Georges pulled a chair to the bed, and drew out one of his pistols.

His voice was as hard and wintery as the landscape. “Le Coupe.”

Mère de Dieu.
It
was
him.

The man scrambled for something under his pillow, but Georges was faster, grabbing the
cochon's
arm and twisting.

“No, no, we can't have that. I do not care to meet your blade.” He took the knife, tossing it casually over his shoulder. It clattered toward the door, not far from her foot. “I merely wish to speak with you.”

Georges sat back in the chair. His cold hauteur sent a chill down Madeleine's spine. “I understand you've been up to some new tricks.”

The man growled and spat, but since he was still supine, most of it dribbled down his chin.

“Ah, you see, it never pays to display bad manners.”

“That is all you
aristos
care about.” Coupe's gaze raked Georges's body. “That and your fine clothing. Even Napoleon couldn't resist the trappings of wealth.”

Georges raised a brow. He'd managed to take one of the man's blades, but there would be at least one more hidden somewhere. “And here you are, playing at being an
aristo.
Attempting to force a young girl to marry you.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Do you think to stop me?”

If he could, he'd shoot the blackguard now, but Madeleine deserved to know what happened to her father. Keeping his tone as calm as possible, he replied, “If not I, then her brother.”

Coupe laughed. “He and the old man are dead.”

“You know that for a fact, do you?” Georges's jaw clenched; he loosened it. Le Coupe would look for any weakness.

“Of course. I took care of them both. A man must look after himself.” When Coupe continued, his voice took on a smug tone. “One dies in battle and the other in an accident. Everyone understands these things are sad, but it is life. I would already be Comte du Beaune if the older girl had agreed to marry me.” Coupe sat up and shrugged. “But she thought she was too good for me. I called in a few favors.” His black eyes glittered with malice. “Now she won't have any choice who beds her.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I am not without friends who hate the
aristos
. They were happy to see her suffer.”

Georges pretended to play with his pistol, shifting it from one hand to the other. “Ah, but you see,” he said, using a tone that had made men stronger than Coupe tremble in fear, “you have picked the wrong family to harm. The girl, Genevieve, is my ward, and Mademoiselle du Beaune is mine as well.”

“You can't stop me from marrying the girl, the contract is signed.” The idiot barked a laugh, as if Georges had made a joke. “If you want the older one, Monsieur le Marquis, you will find her in a London whorehouse.”

He'd be justified in shooting the piece of trash now, but that would not provide the solace he required. Holding his gun firmly in his left hand, Georges rammed his right fist into Coupe's nose. Blood shot out as Georges felt the soft crunch of the other man's nose breaking.

Coupe leapt off the bed, a knife flashing in his hand.

Georges smashed his fist into the scoundrel's stomach, and Coupe went down. Then suddenly Georges's head snapped back, and pain burst through his jaw.

Damn!
He hadn't expected to be butted by the man's head.

Coupe lunged, and Georges jumped back just before a flash of silver slashed the air where his belly had been.

A sharp intake of breath came from the door, and Coupe smiled, blood coating his teeth. “You have her with you.”

He darted toward the door, and Georges shot, hitting Coupe in the head just as his knife buried itself at Madeleine's feet.

Madeleine's scream rent the air, echoing through the house.

Georges stepped over Coupe's body and caught her around her waist. “It's all right, I'm fine and he's dead.” He eased the pistol from her trembling hand, handing it to Jacques. “Come away from here, we'll let the others take care of the body.”

Madeleine leaned against Georges as he protected her from the gory bedroom.

Heavy footsteps pounded rapidly up the servants' staircase, and Armand burst into the corridor followed closely by the other men. “I heard a gunshot.”

She lifted her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she smiled at Georges. “Le Coupe is dead.”

“You killed him?” Armand shouted.
“He was mine to deal with!”

F
or the love of God.
Georges kept his arms around Madeleine. “I really didn't have a choice. He was attempting to kill me.”

“Oh.” The outraged wind went out of Armand. “Well, in that case, I suppose you had a good enough reason.”

Madeleine turned. “Would you stop acting as if everything revolves around you?” She glared at her brother. “You're lucky he didn't have another chance to murder you.” Armand opened his mouth, but she held up her hand. “Enough. Pierre should have Le Coupe's accomplice, we will question her.”

His
whore
more like. Georges held Madeleine back. “Armand, perhaps you'd like to do the honors. I'll return to Beaune with Madeleine and tell your mother and sister all is well.”

“I think that's a splendid idea.” She smiled up at him, happier than he'd ever seen her, even more than last night.

 

 

Just over a week after they'd arrived in Beaune, two large traveling carriages pulled up to the front door. Martel entered escorting a woman. Madeleine peered down into the hall from the galley above.

Andrews!
How had she been convinced to come?

Madeleine hurried down the stairs.

“My lady.” Her maid curtseyed. “We're glad you're still here. Mr. Martel thought you and his lordship may have gone already. We're that late.”

“We have another few days.” Madeleine grinned. Georges had been introducing her to the English custom of mistletoe. “I'm glad you're here, but what made you decide to come?”

Andrews looked at Madeleine in shock. “It never occurred to me I wouldn't.”

“Won't you miss England?”

“Maybe a little at first, but when her ladyship hired me it was with the understanding that I'd remain with you.”

Madeleine's throat squeezed. “That was kind of her.”

“Well then,” her maid said briskly. “If you'll tell me when we next depart, I'll unpack what you need.”

Martel introduced Andrews to Durant, in French.

“I didn't know you spoke French.”

The maid blushed. “I know some. My grandmother was a Frenchwoman,” she said, glancing up at the valet, smiling softly, “and Mr. Martel has been tutoring me.”

Perhaps they'd have another wedding to celebrate.

That evening, Madeleine entered the drawing room. Georges turned from Armand and strolled to her. “You are enchanting.”

She hadn't been dressed this finely since she left England. She tried for a serene look, and failed as her lips tilted up. “Thank you, monsieur.”

Armand gave a low whistle. “Didn't know you cleaned up so well.”

“And I”—Madeleine raised a brow—“did not know you had learned so many vulgar habits.”

“Children,” Georges said in a dry tone. “May we not squabble this evening?”

She wrapped her fingers around his arm. “Indeed. It is beneath me to do so.”

Her brother sobered. “When do you plan to leave?”

“On the twenty-third.” She glanced at Georges. If it hadn't been necessary for her to prepare Armand for his duties, they would have departed earlier. “We want to be at Cruzy-le-Châtel for Christmas.”

Her brother looked as if he would respond, but Maman and Genevieve entered. Shortly thereafter, Durant announced dinner.

Maman took her place at the foot of the table and Armand at the head. Georges and Madeleine sat together across from her sister. How strange it was that as much as she'd wanted to come home, she was now ready to begin her new life. She couldn't wait to go to Cruzy-le-Châtel.

Four days later they departed. The trip took over twelve hours, but when they arrived, lights burned in the windows, and the staff lined up in the grand hall. Some of the women wept with joy. Georges greeted them all by name, introducing her to each one individually.

Madeleine did her best to memorize the names. In a couple of days she'd tour the château with the housekeeper.

Georges showed her to her chambers, which were surprisingly warm. A large bathing chamber had been added with piped water. “Who renovated?”

“I did. It was a way to keep everyone employed, and let them know I would return.”

They dined in a small cozy parlor tucked in the back of the castle. She didn't think she had ever eaten so well. Escargots were prepared with wine, garlic, and butter. The
coq au vin
was the best she'd ever eaten. In addition to carrots and parsnips, there was a fresh salad. The last course consisted of gingerbread and pears poached in red wine.

Once in their chamber, he poured them glasses of the local white wine. “A toast to being home.”

She held hers up. “And I do finally feel as if I'm home.”

Taking her glass, he kissed her slowly. “You can't see much now, but tomorrow you will. We'll gather greenery from the woods, and select a proper tree for the Yule log. Everyone, my tenants and people from the village, will help decorate.”

Finally she had a home to decorate as she wished. Mistletoe would be in every doorway. “I can't wait.”

 

 

Georges woke before dawn, with more energy than he'd had for years. He wanted to make love with his wife. At the same time, he wanted to see his home in the light of day. It had been too long since he'd openly been here. The only thing missing was the rest of his family. Perhaps his mother and his sisters and their husbands could spend next Christmas here, as well as Madeleine's family; for now, having his wife with him was enough.

Madeleine appeared so peaceful, he hated to awaken her, but she'd be wroth if he was gone when she opened her eyes. Instead, he called for warm water and breakfast, hoping all the noise would wake her.

When his valet left after setting up breakfast, Georges glanced at Madeleine. A smile touched her lips, as a ray of weak winter sun roamed over the bed. “Are you awake?”

She propped herself up on her side. “How could I not be?”

He grinned. “We did make quite a bit of racket.”

“Um-hm. Hand me my wrapper. We have a great deal to do to-day.”

“You are not only beautiful,” he said, doing as he'd been told, “but understanding as well.”

She raised an indignant brow. “Do you think you're the only one who wants to decorate for Christmas?”

By the time they entered the hall, the long trestle tables were being set up.

“I thought it was only us for dinner?” Madeleine asked.

“It is a custom in our family to have all our dependents and as many servants as possible eat with us. One year I was in Scotland, and found they did the same thing.” Georges paused. “You don't mind, do you?”

Her smile was radiant. “No. I think it's a wonderful idea.”

An hour later, holding her hand, Georges strode outside. The carts were ready, and people stood around talking and drinking hot cider and wine. He introduced Madeleine to his tenants, and was pleased, but not surprised, to see she was as gracious with them as with the members of the
ton
she'd met in England.

During the night, snow had covered the ground and buildings, making everything appear magical. He, Madeleine, and most of their servants tromped through the forest and selected the Yule log for the fireplace in the hall and a Christmas tree. By late afternoon the château was decorated with holly, fir, Christmas roses, and mistletoe. Candles lit the rooms causing the crystal chandeliers to sparkle, and straw ornaments hung in each window.

He wrapped his arm around her. “I've never seen it look so festive.”

“Everyone helped. The tenants have gone to decorate their homes, but they will all be in the hall at ten this evening for dinner. Will we walk to the church?”

Georges shook his head. “No, the priest will join us for dinner and perform
la Messe de Minuit
here. Afterward we'll hand out the presents.”

Madeleine's brows drew together. “Other than what we purchased at the Christmas markets, I wasn't aware we'd bought gifts.”

“Since I've been gone the butler and housekeeper have made the arrangements. Next year, you may do it if you wish.”

“I'd enjoy that. I will find a special gift for each family. Will you show me the rest of the house now?”

He drew out the portrait ornament from the pocket of his greatcoat. “Not yet. First we will decorate the tree.”

She touched the disk. “I will never forget sitting for this.”

Georges urged her to hold one side of the gold cord as they hung it on the tree. “This symbolizes our love and our marriage.”

After all they, their families, dependents, and the country had been through, she knew the importance of making these kinds of gestures. Later, after dinner and before mass, the rest of the tree would be decorated and the candles lit.

That evening Andrews brought out a deep blue velvet gown for Madeleine to wear that she didn't remember ordering.

As she was almost finished dressing, Georges entered carrying a small case. He set it on her dressing table. Opening it, he drew out a necklace of diamonds and sapphires, as well as the earrings, a broach, a tiara, and the bracelet they'd bought in Dover.

She caught his gaze in the mirror. “Are you sure? It's not complete yet.”

“Yes. Everyone needs to see, to know, that the Marquis Cruzy-le-Châtel and his family are back and here to remain.” He pressed his lips to her neck. “And that I have everything I want and need.”

It wasn't until then that she noticed him wearing a blue-and-white sash across his chest, with their family crest and other medals.

They descended the grand staircase, Georges holding Madeleine's hand high. “I wish you all
Joyeux Noël.
”

Everyone rose, and someone began to clap.
Wilton
. Her brother-in-law and Georges's mother and sisters stood at the head table along with her mother, sister, and brother. Tears started in Madeleine's eyes. All her prayers and wishes had been answered. This was what Christmas should be.

When they reached the bottom stair, Georges took her in his arms and kissed her in front of everyone.

The clapping got louder, and cheers went up.

He lifted his head, gazing into her eyes. “Merry Christmas, my love. We are home.”

“Yes, we are.” She reached up, touching her lips to his. “
Joyeux Noël!
”