Duke of Scandal (19 page)

She grinned. “It was time to visit Govance, to see for myself which fragrances you've chosen for the season. I only heard of your engagement when my husband and I arrived.”

That seemed to satisfy the woman. She raised her chin minutely, almost triumphantly. “It
has
been the talk of the town.”

And then with a wave, she pivoted around and fairly waltzed from the dining room.

B
y mutual agreement they'd decided that she alone would attend tonight's party. After much discussion, she and Sam had come to the conclusion that it would be better for her to see Brigitte and Edmund together, in the company of others, so she could view his reaction to her arrival, could witness his relationship with Brigitte and her family, and do so in a place where she would be perfectly safe and unlikely to arouse his verbal ire. He couldn't exactly expose her as his “former wife” or victim around the Govance family and those she knew in the business who would no doubt be in attendance. Edmund couldn't do anything to her, or say anything revealing, and yet his reaction to her presence would be telling indeed. So they'd decided to startle him, to confuse and shock him. Tonight would be the tease; tomorrow night the full confrontation.

She had no greater desire than to see Edmund squirm in front of his family-to-be. She yearned, more than anything, to waltz up to the man, act as if she were only there for Brigitte, and see what he'd do. The satisfaction to come was going to be enormous.

And so, donning an evening gown of scarlet satin with short puffed sleeves and a low scooped neckline, her best ruby earrings, and curling her hair atop her head, Olivia left Sam at the hotel, promising she would go to the party, make her appearance, her excuses, and return quickly as he'd insisted, then met her hired coach at seven o'clock.

Tonight she felt edgy, her heart thumping double-time, her nerves on end. In the three days since meeting Brigitte for tea, she'd dealt with an odd mix of emotions rumbling through her, not all of them good. She and Sam hadn't said much to each other, had more or less kept to themselves, and it seemed his mood had darkened as well. She'd taken a day to visit the Govance boutique in the center of town, then their warehouse, learning what she could about their newest scents and expectations for the coming season and year. Sam had declined to accompany her, which she took for nothing more than a lack of interest on his part. At least she hoped that's all it was. She had, however, found it difficult to concentrate on her business, as her mind wandered constantly to him, to facing Edmund and the coming weekend. They shared the same hotel suite but slept in separate bedchambers, and he hadn't been much for words, she assumed, because he was doing his own planning on just how he would finally reveal himself to the brother he hadn't seen in a decade.

Olivia didn't understand the animosity Sam held for Edmund, and Sam had been tight-lipped about the cause, or causes, as the case might be. She hadn't pressed him to reveal his thoughts, but her curiosity had started to get the better of her now that they were so close to the confrontation. To that end, she could hardly wait till all was revealed.

They hadn't devised much of a plan of action beyond general ideas, though they agreed to continue the pretense of being a married couple, mostly because they were sharing the same hotel suite and those in Grasse who knew her would question her decency, if not her sanity for doing so, without being properly wed. In a manner, she would be looking out for her business, and at this point in her life Nivan mattered to her more than anything else. The only thing that worried her was what would become of her reputation once they all learned the truth, which, she was afraid, would happen eventually. But she couldn't think about that now. All that mattered tonight was facing the man who'd tried to destroy her.

Her ride to the Govance estate went quickly, and she soon found herself alighting the brown brick steps to the high house proper, its dark beige colors, now lit up by torchlight, blending into the floral-splashed hillside and vineyards beyond. Two footmen in formal livery stood by the large, wooden front door to greet arriving guests, acknowledging her only with a nod as they opened it for her to enter.

Olivia hadn't been to the estate in several years, but her first thought as she stood in the entryway, now completely lamplit, brightened for the coming party, was how
nothing had changed. Three stories in height, the inside, decorated in muted shades of tan, gold, and purple, complemented lavender hillsides and outdoor landscaping, as well as the bronze
d'ore
chandeliers, wrought-iron wall sconces, and an array of floral tapestries and area rugs scattered throughout the first-floor rooms.

She carried only a ruby-colored reticule and her gold-inlaid ivory fan and so had nothing to leave with the butler when he led her toward the drawing room where guests would first meet for hors d'oeuvres and champagne.

Drawing a deep breath to calm herself, she knew the moment for revelation now belonged to her, and so with great aplomb she straightened her spine, shoulders back, and walked in. Immediately, she became aware of a lull in conversation as several people, most of whom she knew, were hushed by her surprising arrival.

Her eyes darted about the scene for her first look at the man whom she'd once thought to be her husband. She soon grew disappointed, though, to note he wasn't yet among the crowd. Neither was Brigitte, which left her to mingle with family and acquaintances, the majority of whom worked in the perfume industry for the House of Govance, until the two guests of honor made their respective appearances.

Olivia smiled as her eyes fell on Ives-Francois Marcotte, Brigitte's late mother's father, the patriarch of the Govance estate and fortune, and the only surviving member of the family outside of Brigitte's father, who lived in Belgium with his second wife and their children.

He spotted her at once as she began to walk toward him, his eyes lighting up with his grin as he moved
away from the cold grate, from his conversation with a gentleman she didn't know, to meet her halfway.

“Grand-père Marcotte,” she said with genuine warmth, reaching up on her toes to kiss his cheeks. “How good it is to see you.”

“Ah, Olivia,” he remarked, grasping her shoulders and holding her at arm's length to view her up and down. “You look just like your mother did twenty-five years ago, and just as beautiful.”

“You look wonderful, too, and just as handsome as ever.” And he did, she thought, considering he had to be nearing the age of seventy-five or so, his hair still thick but now totally white, his brilliant blue eyes exuding intelligence and rigorous health.

He grinned, shaking his head. “I'm an old man, but I suppose my daily walks through the hills keep me breathing and content.”

“As does good wine?” she hinted with a sly curve of her lips.

Chuckling, he replied, “But of course. One should never live life without good wine.”

She gently patted his hand, which still rested on her shoulder. “Then I have no doubt that you'll be living and breathing for another thirty years.”

“God willing, dear child, God willing.” He dropped his arms to his sides. “I'm sure you know most of the guests here. Tonight is just a small gathering to introduce Monsieur Carlisle to friends, but tomorrow is the ball, as I assume Brigitte told you. She was quite happily surprised to see you after all these years, so I do hope you intend to come for that as well.”

Olivia had to wonder if Brigitte also mentioned that
she'd been very well acquainted with his granddaughter's betrothed, or that she was now married, but decided not to remark on either for now. “I wouldn't miss it, Grand-père Marcotte.” She glanced around the room. “And where is Brigitte?”

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his charcoal gray evening jacket. “Oh, I think she is still dressing; you know how ladies are.”

She laughed lightly, nodding once. “Indeed I do.”

“But Monsieur Carlisle is here…somewhere.” He looked around the room as well. “Brigitte says you've met him?”

It was a question, not a statement, and she felt compelled to simply play along with the answer she'd practiced. “Yes, of course. He's well acquainted with my aunt Claudette.”

His thick white brows lifted with apparent surprise. “He didn't mention the Comtesse Renier, but I suppose that makes sense, especially since he knows you from his travels in Paris.”

“I'm sure that's how they became acquainted.”

“And how is Nivan faring?” he asked, lowering his voice.

She lightly shrugged, thankful for the change in subject. “We're doing very well, I suppose. Thank goodness for Normand and his keen sense for business. He's helped us keep the important patronage of many of the elites, including the Empress Eugenie.”

“Ah, very good, very good.” He leaned over, his aged eyes sparkling. “She's such a fastidious lady when it comes to fragrance, isn't she? But of course you never heard that from me.”

Olivia laughed good-naturedly. “Never!”

He pulled back a little, catching the eye of someone over her shoulder. “I should socialize, my dear. But please, Olivia, while you're in Grasse, step over to the shop and sample some of our newest collections from Asia. I'd certainly like your opinion.”

Or to sell me some, she thought with a grin. “I've already done that, Grand-père Marcotte, and I've decided to sample some things to be sent to Nivan later in the year, as the Season warrants.”

“Wonderful,” he replied, quite pleased. He took her gloved hands in his and held them gently. “It's so good to see you, Olivia. Enjoy the party, won't you?”

More than you could ever possibly know.
“I'm sure I shall.”

“Good.”

And with that, he released her hands, patted her cheek, and took his leave.

Standing alone near the fireplace by the south wall, Olivia turned to face the center of the drawing room, searching for her first glimpse of Edmund, admitting to herself that although she felt more than ready to see him again, she'd never been more nervous in her life. She noticed several people whom she knew by name or reputation, and after exchanging pleasantries with two ladies who purchased perfume in Grasse for their local Paris boutique, she made her way toward the opposite end of the room, by the doorway that led to the adjoining dining hall, standing next to a walnut carved
buffet de chasse,
which put her in a far better position to view both entrances at once.

Too wound up to eat, she instead chose one of a
dozen filled champagne flutes sitting on the marble buffet top, taking three or four quick swallows to help keep her anxiety in check. Although Sam had agreed to their so-called plan of attack, she realized he still had misgivings about allowing her to attend alone tonight. He hadn't said as much, but she knew his facial expressions well now, witnessed his reluctance in the tightened planes of his face, in a gaze that sharply focused on her as she left him standing in front of the hotel on her quest to meet Edmund before he did. Even now at the party, attempting to concentrate on the coming moment she'd envisioned for months, she couldn't keep her mind off the brother who distracted her with a look, a kiss, a touch, couldn't quite push from her mind the memory of the way he'd made her body respond that night in her kitchen, a momentous event that had been terribly inappropriate on his part, horribly immoral on hers, and totally, inexplicably…heaven.

Sam. Sam. Sam…

Abruptly, she stood erect, heart racing, her keen eyes suddenly focusing on the subject of her anger and all her sorrowful regrets. From the dining hall doorway she spotted the snake of her mission, standing as tall and stately as ever in all his handsome glory, gazing down to a beaming Brigitte whose ten manicured fingers curled around his elbow as she clung tightly to his arm.

Olivia's mouth went dry as she backed up a step or two, nestling herself between the buffet and a large lady with wide hoops, taking a few seconds to catch her breath and observe the cad before he noticed her.

Tonight he wore an evening suit in rich navy, a sky blue waistcoat and white silk shirt, and navy and white striped cravat. He'd kept his hair the length she remembered, but he'd trimmed it behind the ears and combed it back off his face, as Sam did.

It occurred to her that although the two men were physically identical, Sam had a far more overbearing presence than did his younger brother, possibly due to being raised by birth order expectations, but more likely out of different personality traits. Sam always looked staggeringly handsome and aloof; Edmund always looked jovial and…sly. Sly and happy, she supposed, exactly as he appeared now, smiling down to his betrothed.

Brigitte gazed up to his face lovingly as applause and conversation broke out among the party guests by their arrival together. The bride-to-be seemed radiant, and obviously not at all worried about who might be in attendance to ruin the evening. Edmund, too, seemed positively free of concern, which either meant Brigitte had kept her word about not telling him of their meeting at tea, or he simply didn't care, so sure of his lady's devotion and his own plan of attack.

Brigitte's
grand-père
made a quick introduction, offered a toast of good wishes, then the couple began mingling as party guests turned back to their smaller groups of laughter and discussion, sampling champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Olivia scrutinized the two of them from her position in the corner, noting how Brigitte had chosen to wear an evening gown of sky-blue satin and white lace flounces to harmonize with Edmund's attire. She carried herself with ease in medium-wide hoops,
her hair parted in the middle with two long, blond plaits wrapped up in circles around her ears. She wore little jewelry and no cosmetics that Olivia could see, and yet she looked rather beautiful, even glowing, no doubt due to the excitement of the evening and her wedding to come.

For a second or two Olivia felt a tinge of guilt at her desire to intrude on such an eventful occasion—until she reminded herself why she'd come in the first place, and how much this man had hurt her and intended to dupe Brigitte in exactly the same manner. With such resolution deeply set, she decided it was time to approach the happy couple and offer her congratulations.