Love and Splendor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 5 (16 page)

She could make out her reflection in the window; acknowledged, without apology to conceit, that she was still a ravishingly beautiful woman. Hair as brilliant as the finest gold fell softly about her face. Her skin was as pure and soft as alabaster. Smoky purple eyes were fringed with thick, dusty lashes. Her nose was perfectly shaped, with a gentle, saucy tip. Her lips seemed forever curved in a sultry pout.

She wore a traveling day dress of dusty green velvet. The jacket, edged in yellow cording, was opened to reveal a scooped neckline. Endowed with large, firm breasts, she had much cleavage on display. She was blessed with an incredibly tiny waist. Her hips were slim, curvaceous; legs, long and shapely. Even her ankles were lovely.

She smiled at the image before her, the passing French countryside for a background. Lillian knew she was everything a man could want.

Then, suddenly, the smile faded, and the face staring back at her was frowning, pensive as she was struck with the burning reality: For the moment, her beauty was all she possessed in this world!

She sighed in her misery to think how once she had been heiress to the fortune of her uncle Vinsandt Deauneve, a shipping and railroad magnate. When her parents had been killed in a wagon accident while she was still an infant, her unmarried uncle had taken her into his home and raised her as the child he’d never had. Subsequently, she lived in luxury, wanting for nothing. She adorned herself with diamonds and emeralds as casually as gypsies wore beads. She attended an exclusive, expensive finishing school in Switzerland. When she turned eighteen, her uncle gave her a tidy sum to bank away, and she decided to travel about Europe with her nanny, and experience all life had to offer.

Men flocked after her, and why not? She was beautiful and rich. But she did not need a husband, so she enjoyed suitors that appealed to her, then cast them aside. She had everything she needed, and had not a care in the world.

Then things began to change. Uncle Vinsandt began to nag her about the careless way she was spending money, saying she should be more prudent. She ignored him. After all, he was fantastically rich. Each time she drained her bank account, he replenished it.

One day, however, there came a rude awakening. Uncle Vinsandt regretfully informed his beloved niece that he was bankrupt due to mismanagement of funds by an unscrupulous accountant, and his own error in judgment on several costly investment ventures. Lillian was appalled to realize he did not seem too distraught. After all, he had explained, almost cheerily, all was not lost. There was a rainbow at the end of the storm. Since he had had to liquidate almost everything to pay the debts, including the magnificent house in prestigious St. James Park, he was delighted that they would still have the mellow stone manor house in Dorset, and enough money to live comfortably. They would not starve, and Vinsandt loved the peace and quiet of old rural England, with its winding country lanes leading from one steep little valley to the next, set with thatched cottages and cider apple orchards.

Lillian was horrified. She had always hated the time they spent in Dorset, found the atmosphere boring and depressing.

Uncle Vinsandt was quite perturbed over her attitude. He admitted, as he approached his fiftieth birthday, he was grateful to retire from the pressures of the business world with what he did have. She should, he felt, be equally grateful for all he had been able to do for her.

Champagne to ale, Lillian had grumbled furiously.

She made up her mind that she would not be relegated to the life of a country peasant. She did not want to give up the luxury and lavishness she had come to know, enjoy, and love. Consequently, she turned her back on her uncle and a deaf ear to his raging protests. She used her beauty and charm to ensnare an elderly, wealthy duke and become his mistress. By the time she discovered such a reclusive lifestyle was not to her liking, for she yearned to have an exciting social life in addition to opulence, she had managed to get her hands on enough of the Duke’s money that she could walk out on him with enough to live comfortably until she found what she was looking for—a fantastically rich husband.

She was sure that marriage to money would ensure a future of happiness. After all, she had no intention of settling down and becoming a dreary housewife and—God forbid!—a mother. All she wanted was money, lots of it—to travel and do as she pleased. She knew she could pacify a man by pleasing him in bed, and wangle her way, have her independence. So what if there were those who would condemn her? If she had never enjoyed luxury and wealth, she might have been content with less. But she had sipped champagne…and would rather die than be relegated to guzzling ale!

She settled back in her seat, and smiled. Now, thanks to fate, luck, whatever it was called, the gods had smiled upon her. For, little did she know when she opted to pay a higher price for a seat in one of the luxurious compartments, rather than herd with the peasants like cattle in the cheaper sections, that she would find herself sequestered with a handsome young man who was apparently quite wealthy. After all, she could
smell
money the way bees sniffed out a source for honey.

Alone for the moment, while her new friend had a brandy in the smoker car, she could savor the enjoyable moments they had shared during a delicious brunch he’d had brought to the compartment. It had all been absolutely delightful…and so had he.

He was, she mused, somewhat reticent, when it came to discussing himself. All she knew thus far was that he was American, this was not his first visit to Europe, and he had family here.

The Nord Railway train was speeding southward toward Paris, and they would be arriving within the hour. Although the handsome American had said nothing about continuing their friendship once they reached their destination, Lillian was confident she would have no problem there. She knew he found her attractive and desirable. She could sense things like that in men, especially since every one she came in contact with reacted in the same way.

She had told him she was visiting an aunt in Paris whom she had not seen, or heard from, in a long, long time. Her uncle, she’d fabricated, was worried about his sister, and, because he was too ill to travel, she was making the journey to learn of her condition. She mentioned a rich neighborhood, said enough to give the impression the family was extremely wealthy.

In actuality, Lillian had just enough money left, after purchasing a lavish, fancy wardrobe, to keep her in a modest hotel for a few days, if she ate only enough to stay alive. In that time, she knew she would either have to find a husband or become someone’s mistress until she could get on her feet financially. She cursed herself for spending so much of the Duke’s money to outfit herself, but then,
if
she wanted to marry money, she had to dress the part, didn’t she?

A shiver of anticipation went through her at the sound of the door clicking open. She smiled up at the sight of John Travis Coltrane entering the compartment.

The way he looked at her told her she was right—he did like her…and he wanted her.

He sat down beside her, rather than across, and mentioned that the conductor had just informed him they were running on time, would be in Paris within the hour.

Her hand fluttered to her throat, and she made herself sway ever so slightly, and display what she hoped was a look of utter desperation.

He noticed. “Is anything wrong?” he inquired solicitously.

She shook her head, gave him an apologetic little smile. “Oh, I don’t want to burden you with my problems, but I am a bit worried about being able to find my way around in Paris.” She went on to tell him that she only had her aunt’s address, had no idea what she would do if she had moved away.

“And,” she continued, “I speak very little French.” She nearly choked on the lie, for she spoke the language fluently, as well as several others. Uncle Vinsandt had made sure she was well educated.

Colt was quick to offer his assistance. “After I’ve spent a bit of time with my family, I’ll go with you to find your aunt.”

She pretended embarrassment. “Oh, no, I couldn’t impose like that, really…” She allowed her voice to trail off softly.

He dismissed her protests with a wave of his hand. “I insist. You get some rest, and in a day or so, we’ll go and find your aunt.”

She demurely thanked him and settled back in her seat with a small smile.

All the while, the wheels were turning. As soon as he left her at a hotel, she would find a taxi to take her to the neighborhood she had mentioned. There she would find someone willing, for a few francs, to say that her “aunt” had died.

She would also have to report to the Paris police that her purse had been stolen. She could not have John Travis Coltrane wondering why she was almost destitute.

Chapter Twelve

Dani sat impatiently at her dressing table while Simone, her hairdresser, meticulously wound strands of pearls in her coppery tresses. She had always hated having her hair done, preferred to wear it loose and flowing, but tonight’s dinner was formal.

She turned to look once again at the new gown that had been delivered only that day. Of mocha satin, it was sleek, smooth, glamorous. Drop pearl earrings would be her only adornment.

Simone administered finishing touches to her coiffure, smiled with satisfaction and declared,
“Splendide! Mademoiselle
is gorgeous!”

Unconcerned for the moment with humility, Dani agreed, then dismissed her with a warm thank you and a generous pourboire.

Alone, she stared solemnly at her reflection in the onyx-framed mirror over her skirted dressing table. Lovely hair style. Lovely dress. Yet, she was dreading the evening before her. Oh, not everything. She was certainly looking forward to being with Drake as she had been every night since they had met at her party over two weeks ago.

She closed her eyes and allowed the warm rush of pleasant memories to take her away…back in time to the moon-kissed evenings spent dancing in Drake’s arms…afternoons sipping tea at sidewalk cafés…picnics on the bank of the river Seine, laughing like children as they sipped wine and munched crisp, fresh-baked bread, nibbled cheese and apples, ruining their appetite for sumptuous candlelit dinners later…and not caring.

A special day stood out in Dani’s happy reflections. Drake had procured two horses, and they had ridden out into the rolling green countryside, savoring the warmth of the mellow sunlight upon their faces. On they rode, into the hallowed greenery of a dense and fragrant forest. Hand in hand, side by side, they feasted on the consecrated purity of the magnificence of nature unblemished, untouched.

Finally, overcome by the awesome beauty, they had stopped beside a gurgling stream, and there, on a mossy riverbank, surrounded by the gently waving fronds of a weeping willow tree, they had embraced and shared a kiss that left them both shaken.

Dani knew something wonderful was happening between them, and the awareness filled her with an unfamiliar yet pleasant glow of warmth.

Since they were seen together constantly, Dani knew they were being whispered about in Paris social circles. Some even predicted theirs was the romance of the season and would culminate in the wedding of the decade. Others, mostly young, jealous girls, were portending Dani was merely another of Drakar’s short-lived romances, and she would wind up a spurned woman like all the rest of his “collection”.

Dani dismissed such gossip. Besides, it was not Drake who concerned her for the moment, for they were enjoying each other and the growth of their relationship immensely.

It was Colt.

Two days before, she had just returned from the shop and was about to bathe and change for dinner when she heard Kitty squeal with joy from all the way downstairs. She had wrapped her robe around her and run to the landing above the stairs to stare down in disbelief at the sight of her stepbrother embracing Kitty.

She had rushed downstairs to greet him also, ecstatic to have him in Paris, looking forward to having the opportunity to at last really get to know the brother who seemed like a stranger.

That first evening, she and Drake had declined to attend a concert to be with Colt. All seemed pleasant…then. It was only when she found herself alone with him the next morning that the tension surfaced.

She had gone downstairs to have a quick cup of tea before leaving for the shop, only to find Colt already in the breakfast room—alone. The conversation began amiably, but then he began to ask her questions about her shop, and when she happily recounted all that had led up to her independent business venture, which included the “Monaco Find”, it was as though she had suddenly, unwittingly, ignited flames of resentment within him.

A shadow had crossed his steel-gray eyes just before they narrowed in a veil of anger. In a curt, frosty voice, he had remarked testily, “Well, it’s nice someone managed to reap some rewards from the deBonnett château, Dani. It damn well nearly cost us Coltranes our entire fortune.”

Dani had stared at him incredulously for a brief instant as she reeled under the full implication of his remark. Then, indignation overcame shock as she sharply challenged, “Do you blame me for what happened, Colt?”

His eyes flicked bitterly over her. “Yes,” he admitted with candor. “I think I do blame you. After all, if you hadn’t been such a brat, you’d have stayed at home with us, where you belonged, instead of going to live with that bitch, Alaina Barbeau…and none of it would’ve happened.”