Sweet Bravado (3 page)

The Viscountess seemed to recover a semblance of her lost dignity. “I think, perhaps, enough has been said. I shall write
Ardsmore at once and let him take matters in to his own hands. It is regrettable that you choose to think of the Viscount
in such unflattering terms. There are young ladies of
breeding
among the English
ton
who would not find your prospects so distasteful.” And having the last word, she flounced through the doors leaving behind
a stricken Nicole. |

What devil had prompted her to lash out so wildly? Nicole no more thought of Valentin as a fortune hunter than as a country
peasant. With characteristic French practicality, Nicole accepted the contract set up by Aunt Sophie as a mutually beneficial
pact. She found nothing distasteful in the fact that both she and the Viscount were in need of the fortune thus supplied.
In fact, it created a condition of equality between them. It was Lady Eleanore that she could not abide. But why, oh, why,
had she lost her temper? What would Valentin say when he heard about her shocking behavior? She did not wish to offend him,
but fear and pride warred within her. What if he reacted to her as his family had done toward her mother? Could she bear it—loving
him the way she did?

As the days passed, the atmosphere remained tense between Nicole and Lady Eleanore. Each refrained from
causing further rift in the uneasy alliance necessary between them. Almost docilely Nicole submitted to Lady Eleanore’s carefully
worded advice about her new wardrobe, and when the Viscountess suggested a series of small dinner parties to introduce Nicole
to members of society, Nicole acquiesced without demur.

Nevertheless, it was not without some trepidation that she approached her initial presentation which was to be a dinner party
for twelve. Lady Eleanore had prepared well, and the dining room at the Hotel Belmontaine was sumptuously decorated for the
occasion. Everywhere were gilt-framed mirrors reflecting a myriad of candles in golden sconces; lavish paintings of ladies
in silks and satins disporting themselves amid the shrubberies of luxurious gardens lined the walls. The long dining table
was hung with a figured damask cloth bordered by heavy Belgian lace. Dainty pink roses on the gleaming china were complemented
by tiny nosegays of fresh roses at each place setting. Lady Eleanore was a true Harcourt when it came to spending money, and
she was no less adept at the consumption of fortunes than were her improvident husband, the late Viscount Ardsmore, Harrison
Harcourt, and his now-penniless heir, Valentin.

Lord Harrison had been something of a scandal in his day, squandering great quantities of his inheritance in the usual high-born
pursuits of gaming and wenching. His credentials of birth and rank were impeccable, and he used them to accommodate his aristocratic
pleasures without the slightest nod to propriety. The more outrageously he flaunted decorum, the more society fawned upon
him. His wife, Lady Eleanore, a person of great style and rank in her own right, accepted the code of her husband without
a qualm and pursued her own pastimes of lavish parties and extravagant intrigues that were equally costly
and shocking. However, no outrage was deemed improper as long as it was performed with style.

And now here was Lady Eleanore marshalling all her considerable talents to ram through this marriage with a French nobody.
Well, she would do it—gritted teeth or no. The dinner tonight was step one in her campaign. It must provide the seal of approval
for Nicole’s candidacy; hence, the guest list was drawn from the ranks of the elderly and respectable. The guests included
family friends of the Harcourts lately arrived from England. Among them were two pompous couples, the Montgomerys and the
Wexfords. The Montgomerys were so advanced in years that Nicole wondered at their daring to travel from England to Paris during
the chill of winter. Roger Montgomery’s every breath was an audible wheeze, and his gaunt-faced wife appeared consumptive.
Nicole reasoned, however, that the discomforts of travel notwithstanding, Paris must still be a more pleasant milieu than
dreary London with its fog and continual damp. Her recent visits to the houses of Parisian couture had convinced her that
half of England’s aristocracy must have fled to Paris since Napoleon was safely removed from the scene. One heard more English
than French in the streets these days.

The Wexfords were a contrast to the lean stringiness of the Montgomerys. Both were short and rotund, and Morley Wexford seemed
a likely candidate for apoplexy. The Wexfords’ daughter, Karen, who accompanied them, did little to add youthfulness to the
gathering with her prissy airs and prim features set in a look of haughty disapproval.

The Envoy Extraordinaire to the British Embassy, Lord Wolsey, an elderly gentleman with a long white mustache, was accompanied
by two youthful attachés, Charles Humphrey and Gerold Apley. Whatever natural high spirits
they possessed were overshadowed by the presence of their superior.

The gayest member of the party was a snowy haired antiquarian, the Marquis de Crécy, whose distant relation to the Harcourt
family entitled him to the familiar address of “Uncle.” The Marquis de Crécy exuded an elegant, if doddering, charm. His old-world
manner could still bring sighs of pleasure from feminine lips. He found Nicole to be a visual delight and lost no opportunity
of telling her.
Ravissante
and
charmante
were but a few of the lavish terms he applied to her, and Nicole, for the first time since her arrival in Paris, relaxed
and blossomed under his approving eye.

If the company was dull, the food was superb, and the menu provided by an excellent French chef was delicious and ample. There
were multiple courses including poached turbot, dressed Cornish hens. Boeuf Bordelaise and veal fillets in cream. Countless
dishes of savory vegetables and relishes accompanied each course along with a sparkling Burgundy and white Bordeaux. The dessert
course was replete with crème tarts, jellies, fresh fruits, fragrant cheeses and a superb meringue glacée.

It was Nicole’s good fortune to have the Marquis de Crécy seated on her right and Charles Humphrey on her left. Between them
she was able to conduct a pleasant conversation on the entertainments to be found in a Paris recently emerged from the shadows
of war.

The Marquis questioned Nicole about the social diversions of Paris while dessert was being served.

“I have not had much opportunity to avail myself of Parisian entertainments,
Monsieur le Marquis.
As you know, I have spent most of my youth in the. Village of Beauvais where life is quite simple.”

“Ah, then you have many delights in store for you.”

“I am looking forward to the entertainments of the Parisian
beau monde
with much anticipation.”

“Oh I say, Miss Harcourt,” broke in Charles Humphrey. “I had the good fortune of hearing la Catalani at the Somerset soirée
the other evening. What a voice. That is a treat you must give yourself one of these days.”

“I do enjoy the music of the opera greatly, Mr. Humphrey, but I confess that my first love has always been the ballet.” Nicole
looked defiantly down the table into the shocked eyes of Lady Eleanore.

“Nicole, dear child,” Lady Eleanore spoke hastily. “Perhaps you would enjoy some of this
mousse au chocolate.
I do not believe you have tasted it yet.”

“You are very kind, Cousin Eleanore, but I could not swallow another morsel of this divine assortment,” Nicole * replied sweetly
and turned back to the Marquis.
“Monsieur le Marquis
…”

“You must cease this formality, child. I am, after all, a member of the family, however distant. Please call me Uncle Maurice
like everyone else.”

“Very well… Uncle Maurice,” she smiled shyly. “Do you ever attend the ballet?” She returned to the forbidden topic, unable
to resist the temptation to taunt Lady Eleanore.

“Frequently,
ma chère.
You must allow me to escort you to a performance of the Opéra de Paris in the near future. They have a new company recently
formed that does a very creditable job.”

“The Opéra de Paris! Why that is the same company my”

“Ladies,” Lady. Eleanore rose from the table almost knocking over her chair and diverting attention from Nicole. “I believe
it is time we left the gentlemen to their port.” And without further pause she led the ladies from
the dining room into the drawing room. She made certain that Nicole was given no further opportunity to pursue the subject
of the ballet. For that evening, at least, Lady Eleanore held sway and squelched the imp of mischief that Nicole had foolishly
courted at dinner.

During wedding preparations an unexpected ally for Nicole arrived at the Hotel Belmontaine. Peregrine Harcourt, the Viscount’s
younger brother and family scapegrace, barged in on a morning conference. Since he had just arrived on the Continent, Lady
Eleanore had no advance warning and was not altogether pleased at this appearance.

“Perry! Good gracious, what
are
you doing here?”

“Just had to come, mother dear.” He grinned mischievously. “This is where all the excitement is.” He bent to kiss his mother’s
cheek. “Couldn’t stay away, now could I, if Val is going to be hog-tied?”

“Don’t be vulgar,” his mother retorted impatiently. Turning to Nicole she announced, “You two have never
met. Nicole, my younger son, Perry. Perry, your cousin Nicole.”

“So this is my future sister-in-law! What a lucky dog Val is.” He smiled broadly and bowed over Nicole’s hand.

“Perry,” his mother snapped. “Do you always have to make a display of yourself?”

“But mother, I am only admiring true beauty. Ain’t we lucky to have her a member of the family?” He winked at Nicole.

Nicole found his boyish charm irresistible.

Lady Eleanore ignored his question and commanded, “Sit down, and stop this foolish posturing. Have you been thrown out of
school again?”

“Not exactly.”

“And
what,
pray, is that supposed to mean?”

“I was sent down for the remainder of this term.”

“Oh, Perry, Perry, whatever am I to do with you?”

“Don’t fret yourself, mama. I can take care of myself.”

“If only the Viscount were here,” Lady Eleanore moaned.

“Well he ain’t. Besides, Val will be too busy with his own life to worry about mine. Don’t you agree, cousin Nicole?”

“I am sure he will always have time for the family.”

“She is not only beautiful but a diplomat as well. I bet old Cecily’s eating her heart out.”

“That will be enough from you, sir! You have brought on one of my headaches,” Lady Eleanore complained.

“I am sorry, mama.” He did not sound very contrite to Nicole. “Can I get you something?”

“No, no. I shall just retire to my room for a while. You two have a nice chat, and I will send Cecily down to you.”

Perry closed the door behind his mother. “I hope you
have not let mama upset you unduly. She can be a bit high in the stirrups at times, but eventually she comes around. However,”
he whispered conspiratorially and came to sit beside Nicole, “Cecily is a different matter. That little viper has venom in
her bite.”

Nicole was delighted by his candor, and a quick sympathy was established between them.

“Now quickly before Cecily joins us, let me make arrangements to take you riding in the park tomorrow.”

“That would be lovely.” Nicole smiled happily.

And true to his word, Perry took her riding; nevertheless, after a few whirlwind visits to Belmontaine, he was not to be seen
most days. The young Harcourt kept rooms with friends in a less affluent section of Paris, where the
bonhomie
was more to his liking and his movements under less surveillance. It was not to subject himself to days of duty under mama’s
watchful eye that he had crossed the Channel, but to plunder the wicked delights of a Paris now wide open to the young and
the reckless.

The days were too busy for Nicole to miss. Perry. There were innumerable trips to the dressmakers for fittings and social
events in the evenings that she was expected to attend. And always present was the strain of avoiding verbal battle with Lady
Eleanore. Fortunately the necessity for meek acquiescence came to an unexpected pause when Lady Eleanore accepted an invitation
for a weekend in the country with her friends, the Wex-fords.

“I cannot understand your reluctance to join us this weekend, Nicole,” Lady Eleanore was saying with some asperity.

“It is just that I am fatigued to death and would enjoy a quiet weekend. I have had so little time to myself.”

“But what shall my friends think?”

Nicole perceived that actually Lady Eleanore was tempted to be free of her.

“I think my lady has forgotten Madame DuPlessis is to begin work tomorrow on Nicole’s headdress for the wedding,” Madame Lafitte
reminded.

Nicole turned a relieved face to her friend. “You are absolutely right, Fifi.”

“So,” Lady Eleanore fumed, not liking to have the initiative taken away from her. “It will be as you wish, Nicole. But I will
make the final decision on all wedding apparel.”

“I am perfectly capable of choosing an appropriate headdress.”

“Are you, Nicole?” It was Cecily who as usual grasped every opportunity to sneer. “How many weddings of the
beau monde
have
you
attended lately?”

“Cecily, that will be
quite
enough.” Lady Eleanore intervened before insults could be exchanged. “Nicole will have her quiet weekend. I dare say it will
do us all some good to be apart for a time. We shall return Sunday, evening. Until then, Madame Lafitte, I leave you in charge.”

“Oui,
my lady. Nicole is a good girl. She will be no trouble.”

It was late Friday afternoon when Nicole and Madame Lafitte returned from the DuPlessis establishment and Nicole impulsively
hugged Madame Lafitte. “Oh, Fifi, a whole weekend free from sour faces and unkind words! I could kiss you for remembering
Madame DuPlessis.” She whirled happily about the room.