Sweet Bravado (9 page)

“It makes me giddy,” Nicole laughed. “I don’t know where to look first.” She glanced over her shoulder at Valentin as he strolled
behind her. “It would take weeks, perhaps months to go through it all.”

“I think we can spare some time on our honeymoon for sorting through it. But I can’t guarantee how much,” he grinned.

Trembling inwardly she looked away and reached for the nearest object. Valentin leaned over her and extracted the goblet from
her fingers while placing a restraining hand on her shoulder. His sudden nearness, and the strength of his warm fingers on
her shoulder were causing her heart to flutter wildly. The man truly was a devil. One minute heartlessly cool, the next charmingly
sweet.

“This goblet,” he was saying quite innocently, “is from Vienna, where we shall go following our honeymoon to join the British
delegation.”

“The Duke is already there?” she asked softly.

“No, but he will be soon.”

“I have heard that Vienna is a very gay city.”

“It is. And I shall be only too happy to show you the sights, my sweet.” His hand glided from her shoulder to her chin, sending
a series of thrilling tremors along its way. “I have hired rooms for us on Lothmann Strasse which is quite fashionable.”

“Will… will we be expected to do much entertaining?” She forced herself to ask nonchalantly while his fingers lightly caressed
her cheek.

“Some. Does it frighten you?”

“No-no, I was just wondering.”

“Don’t let it concern you. I think it more likely we shall be entertained. I have a feeling everyone will want to meet the
lovely young Viscountess,” he said slipping his other arm about her waist.

“My lord,” she pleaded, afraid of her own feelings, “Val—I think we should be getting back to the others.” She placed both
hands on his chest trying to extricate herself from his embrace.

“Not just yet,” he murmured persuasively. “I want to show you something unusual.” He released her from his light embrace and
walked over to one of the chests and knelt beside it extracting what appeared to be a mask. “This has always intrigued me.”
He stood up as Nicole came to his side. “It looks like a part of a jack-o-lantern, yet I’m sure it is much older.”

“Oh, do let me see,” she exclaimed reaching for the object.

“It seems to be made of a light wood or possibly a type of linen,” he commented as he handed it to her.

“It appears to be a mask of some kind. See the hooked nose and the turned-down mouth.”

“Unfortunately, only a portion remains, making it difficult to decide what it actually is,” Valentin’s face was close to Nicole’s
as he ostensibly examined the artifact. “Maurice should get an expert to start sorting this stuff.”

“Oh, but look,” Nicole deftly maneuvered away from his disturbing nearness and held it up to her face, “see how it covers
the face?”

He started to laugh. “Beauty and the beast. Would a kiss break the enchantment, I wonder?”

“You make fun of my theory, sir?” Nicdle demurred.

“No, no, my love, I quite agree. It’s probably from the Commedia dell’arte. Perhaps Harlequin.”

“Oh, no, not Harlequin—he was never as grotesque as this creature, I am sure.”

“Well, one of them, then.”

“I think not.”

“Oh?” A note of surprise crept into his voice.

Nicole grew cautious. “Perhaps, Val… do you think it possible to have come from an even earlier period of the theatre?”

“Such as?” He became faintly interested.

“Greece.”

“Greece? Good heavens girl, I have never heard of anything so fragile surviving that era of the theatre.”

“Don’t laugh. Perhaps this is a first.” Nicole was a little offended at his superior tone.

Valentin noticed and proceeded jokingly, “So you would disagree with my judgment?”

“I would.”

“Look at her,” he addressed the ghosts of the past. “Defiant and stubborn. I think I shall have to teach the lady proper respect
for her future husband.”

Responding to the jocular note in his voice, she retorted laughing, “So it is a master-slave relationship you are expecting,
my lord.”

“What’s this? Mockery too? I’ll lord and master’ you,” he said reaching for her, but she slipped out of reach. “Come here!”
he demanded.

Nicole shook her head no, backing away playfully.

Valentin began to advance toward her, but she moved behind one of the tables.

“Do not forget, lord and master, these are priceless antiques.”

“And she dares to lecture me as well. Hmm. Shall we see how daring she is after I turn her over my knee?”

Suddenly Nicole was not sure if he were playing. “You wouldn’t!”

Valentin shouted with laughter and Nicole relaxed perceptibly. With lightning speed he crossed to her and imprisoned her in
his arms.

“You tricked me!”

“Of course. Remember that in the future. I am notorious
for pursuing my prey until I have won,” he teased, “and to the victor go the spoils.”

“And what do you wish from the vanquished?” She looked up at him impishly, perceiving the answer and willing to concede.

“Nicole,” he whispered placing his mouth to hers. Surprisingly gentle, his kiss expressed a deep yearning and she responded
warmly. Valentin lifted his lips and murmured in her ear, “My sweet,” kissed it and then let his lips travel up to her cheek
and to her eyes. It was bliss to feel his arms tightening around her and to give herself up to the moment. She slipped her
arms around his neck and returned his kiss eagerly. The gentleness deepened to passion and his caressing hand slipped to her
breast. She stiffened slightly and stepped back.

Immediately his hold slackened, but he did not let her go as he said, “I did not mean to frighten you, but you will be my
wife in a few days.”

“Yes, I know.” She looked up to him with troubled eyes. “It is just that…”

“I know,” he smiled endearingly, “you don’t have to explain.” Then he kissed her lightly upon the forehead.

“Oh, here you two are.” Cecily stood in the doorway.

Nicole jumped, but Valentin held on to her hand.

“That’s right, Cecily,” he said. “Here we are,” and he winked at Nicole.

Could she ever love him more than at that moment? Nicole smiled contentedly up into his handsome face.

Other guests arrived for the evening meal and later a musicale was held in the drawing room. Nicole did not have another moment
alone with Valentin until early the following afternoon when they joined Cecily and Perry for some ice skating.

Hurrying Nicole over the ice, Valentin managed to leave the others behind.

“Don’t you think we should have waited?” she questioned breathlessly.

“No, I don’t, my love. We haven’t had a moment alone since yesterday and aren’t likely to again until after the wedding. And
I can’t wait that long.”

Pleased by his eagerness, she sped along beside him enjoying the strong movements of his body beside hers. Looking down at
her, he caught Nicole’s appreciative glance and pulled her closer against him not noticing a twig jutting through the ice.
One moment they were skating smoothly along, and the next the two of them were sprawled across the ice.

“Nicole!” he called pulling himself to his feet and racing to her assistance. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes,” she laughed brightly. “I have not taken such a tumble since I was a child.”

“Here, let me help you to the embankment. It was my fault.” He seated her on a log at the edge of the lake. “You are sure
you are all right?” he inquired anxiously.

“Oh yes. And you?”

“I am fine just as long as you are. I don’t want to lose you, my love.” Valentin pulled an unresisting Nicole into his arms
and began kissing her. Then moving her against the embankment of soft snow, he rested his lean masculine body next to hers
and pressed his knee intimately against hers. Deep within Nicole a rising desire wrestled with a growing sense of panic. His
sexuality frightened her, but she could not deny his kisses as he imprisoned her more firmly beneath himself.

Valentin heard his name being called from a distance and rose abruptly. “Until our wedding night, my darling,” he whispered
as the others came into sight.

Danforth puffed on his pipe and leaned back in his chair as he watched his tall friend pace back and forth between two windows
stopping at each to stare at the street below.

“Still snowing?” Danforth questioned.

“What?” Valentin turned to him.

“Is it still snowing?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, yes. It may hold up the wedding party.”

“Never fear, old friend, they will be here on time.” Danforth laughed, enjoying the Viscount’s agitation.

Pulling the watch from his dress uniform, Valentin commented, “Almost noon.”

“Join life in a glass of sherry?”

The Viscount absentmindedly accepted the glass.

“To your marriage.”

Valentin eyed him briefly before he drank.

“I envy you, my friend. She is a beautiful girl.”

“Yes, I believe the Harcourt luck has held after all.” He finished his wine. “I can tell you when I first heard the conditions
of Aunt Sophie’s will, I was mad enough to go into battle without my sword.” He laughed.

“I’m glad common sense prevailed as well as good fortune.” Danforth smiled in return. “You won the prize, I would say.”

“Indeed I have.” The Viscount adjusted his sword hilt and pulled on his white gloves just as Charles Humphrey poked his head
through the door announcing the arrival of the wedding party.

Percy Pembroke, the civil magistrate, was already standing in front of the fireplace which was adorned with garlands of red
and green. Lord Wolsey was greeting some of the guests at the doorway. The main room to the registry was large and sparsely
furnished except for a few gilt chairs. On a table before the fireplace lay the registry book which would be signed by Nicole
and Viscount Ardsmore at the end of the ceremony. Chairs for those in attendance had been set up on either side of a narrow
red carpet that ran the length of the room.

Lady Eleanore entered on the arm of Reginald Glen-ville, Envoy Extraordinary to the British Embassy. She was followed by Cecily
who was accompanied by Perry. Lady Eleanore was looking very elegant in a deep purple gown of softly draped velvet trimmed
with ermine cuffs. She wore a headdress of matching velvet and ermine. Cecily’s costume in teal blue and cream satin was no
less elegant. The remaining guests were mostly male, being made up of embassy staff members and military officers of the Viscoun’s
command.

When everyone was seated, the Marquis de Crécy escorted Nicole into the hushed room. Her wedding gown
was all she could have hoped it to be, and every detail served to enhance her own natural beauty. Lady Eleanore had wisely
chosen a heavy ivory satin that seemed to intensify the warm ivory of Nicole’s own coloring. Ignoring the favored Empire line,
Madame DuPlessis had suggested a medieval line that softly molded Nicole’s willowy figure to the hipline and fell in gleaming
folds to the floor. The high-necked bodice was overlaid with Valenciennes lace in a deeper shade of ivory and richly studded
with hand-sewn crystals that gave the appearance of crushed diamonds. The long sleeves fit her arms tightly and ended in points
at the wrists. The headdress was a diamond tiara to which were attached clouds of tulle that descended to the floor. A lesser
beauty would have been overpowered, but for Nicole the sumptuous costume was a fitting background to her own dark beauty.
Her glowing face and shining violet eyes subdued the richness of her raiment into a proper setting.

Nicole saw no one but Valentin, standing tall and magnificent before the fireplace.

Uncle Maurice brushed her cheek with his fingers before pressing her forward to the Viscount, and placing her cold hand into
her bridegroom’s warm one, he took his place beside Lady Eleanore.

The civil ceremony was brief, and the formalties were completed with the signing of the registry. Lord Pembroke concluded
by saying, “You may now kiss the bride, my lord.” Nicole raised tremulous lips to the man who took her in his arms and lowered
his face tenderly to hers. The ritual kiss was over all too soon, and Lord Wolsey was offering a champagne toast before they
returned to the Hotel Belmontaine for the reception.

The reception proved the test of endurance Nicole had anticipated. Her new husband stood protectively at her side throughout
the tedious receiving line, and cued her
unobtrusively in matters of names and identities of the personages presented. She did little more than smile and murmur appropriate
rejoinders as the Viscount deftly carried the burden of small talk and pleasantries necessary. Later she was led by an unflagging
Valentin through the demure bridal waltz under the watchful gaze of admiring gentlemen and envious ladies. Valentin was all
the male strength and gallantry any bride could desire.

“You dance superbly, my dear,” Valentin spoke softly into Nicole’s ear.

“The least one could expect from a ballet dancer’s daughter, my lord,” she rejoined impishly.

The Viscount regarded Nicole thoughtfully for a moment. “Do you still chafe under that old grievance, my love? There is no
need. Have done with the past, sweetheart.” He spoke so seriously that Nicole caught her breath and looked carefully into
his eyes, reading deep sincerity there.

Striving to express her response, she added, “If I dance well, my lord, it is only that you lead so well.”

Valentin paused in their dancing and lifted her hand, placing a fervent kiss upon its fingers before the watching eyes of
the assembled guests. Nicole felt herself transported with joy at his gallant salute. Here was her knight come to claim her
before all the world.

Much later, after consuming copious quantities of champagne, Valentin assisted Nicole in cutting the cake and tossing the
bouquet. The time had arrived for the exhausted couple to make their departure. The Viscount led the way to the flower-strewn
coach waiting to transport them to the Marquis’s chateau. Nicole’s final look at the group surrounding the carriage was a
brief glimpse of Madame Lafitte, her old friend and mentor, who was leaving in the morning for her sister’s home in St. Rémy.
Next, her glance rested on Lady Eleanore who forced a
bright smile to her lips before reaching for Maurice’s arm; and finally Nicole noted Cecily’s taut form at the edge of the
crowd. There was open hatred in her gaze, and Nicole averted her eyes.