Tears of Gold (56 page)

Mara continued walking until she broke from the lushness of the garden and came out before a low structure. Architecturally, it matched the great house, but was only single-storied. Mara stood there curiously staring at it and was spotted by Etienne as he stepped from the entrance.

“Mademoiselle O’Flynn!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting with apparent delight.

“I’m sorry if I’m intruding. I just realized this must be your own private wing,” Mara apologized, making a move to leave.

“Oh, please, it is so nice to have a lovely woman calling on me,” Etienne cajoled, his hand sliding around Mara’s elbow persuasively as he guided her toward the door. “Please, let me show you some of my treasures. You will have a cup of tea or glass of sherry with me, non?” he invited with a hopeful look in his eyes.

Mara hadn’t the heart to refuse, but she declined his offer of tea as she accompanied him into his bachelor quarters. “I’ve just had tea, thank you.”

Etienne eyed her closely. “The way you say that, I think perhaps it was not most enjoyable, eh?”

Mara smiled, for despite his air of polite inquiry he was very curious. “You are very perceptive, m’sieu.”

Etienne fondly patted her hand as he apologized. “I’m sorry, my dear, but it is not that I am so perceptive, but that you are so expressive. One word, one look or gesture from you is worth a thousand words from another,” he told her with delight. “You have the same gift that many people of the theater possess,” he complimented her with an innocent look in his blue eyes, but Mara wondered if she should allow herself to be hoodwinked by this charming, yet wily old gentleman.

“There was a visitor,” Mara admitted. “A Madame St. Laurens.”

“Ah, Amaryllis,” he breathed softly, then cast Mara a mischievous look. “I think that must indeed have been an interesting tea party. Amaryllis would not have been pleased to see you, mademoiselle, not at all.”

Mara arched an eyebrow quizzically.

“Because, ma chérie, she has always hated anyone who was more beautiful than she, and,” he added with a wicked wink, “especially younger. Did she happen to see Nicholas?”

Mara’s smile faded slightly. “Yes, they had quite a reunion, only I do not think it was quite as pleasant as it might have been under different circumstances.”

“Ah, yes,” Etienne replied with a slightly malicious wink. “She would have discovered, much to her dismay, that Beaumarais had already been sold. Such a pity for her, eh?” he chuckled. “I am only sorry I overslept and was not there in time to see Amaryllis’s face when she discovered both that
and
Nicholas.”

“You are pleased?” Mara asked.

“That Nicholas bought Beaumarais? But of course, my dear, for it means that I shall not be evicted. I most certainly would have been had Amaryllis become mistress here,” he said with a look of relief, then frowned as if an unpleasant thought had suddenly occurred to him. “Of course, I suppose that possibility still remains for our Amaryllis is a most attractive, unattached widow. She is also very determined,” he murmured in worried speculation, then shook his mane of silver hair as if refusing to contemplate such a disastrous event. “If Nicholas were any lesser a man, well, I should start packing my bags immediately.”

Mara smiled slightly in response to his grin and glanced around Etienne’s parlor. It was a beautiful room, brilliant with color from the many pieces of fine furniture, paintings, and
objets d’art
that Etienne had collected from his years of travel. A lacquer and ebony secretaire, a marquetry commode of satinwood and tulipwood, the finish warm and rich, a baroque table supported by four bronzed statues serving as legs, and an ormolu-mounted console table all fought for the eye’s attention while heavy, crimson drapes curtained the windows and blended with the jewel-like reds and blues of a Persian carpet. But it was a delicate armchair, its carved frame hand-painted to match the floral motif of its silk cushions that caught and held Mara’s eye.

“I was told when I bought that poor little chair that it once belonged to Marie-Antoinette,” Etienne offered when he saw Mara’s interest.

“It’s exquisite, Etienne,” Mara said with admiration and awe.

“
Merci
, I only wish you could see the rest of my collection in Paris. I have a small house there where I have the greater part of my small treasures,” Etienne told her proudly, pleased by Mara’s appreciation.

“You mean you have more?” Mara asked incredulously as she glanced around at the cabinets loaded with beautifully carved ivory figures, richly detailed Oriental vases and prints, and countless boxes, tankards, bowls, and candlesticks of gleaming silver.

“My dear, I have so much that it would really take most of the great house of Beaumarais to do justice to it all,” Etienne laughed. “But let me show you my latest acquisition,” he whispered excitedly as he hurried over to a table and picked up an elaborately engraved silver cup. He held it gently in the palms of his hands, for it had no handles. “I have just recently returned from St. Petersburg, and it was there that I found this,” Etienne beamed, “a loving cup, mademoiselle.”

Mara lightly ran her fingertip over the flat lip of the cup and wondered idly if it had indeed brought good fortune to the people who had drunk from it. Mara smiled. Etienne was like a small boy, surrounded by his favorite toys and eager to show them off to his friends.

“Someday I shall show you my fan collection too,” Etienne promised as he carefully replaced the loving cup, “for I’ve just added one to it that I was assured belonged to Catherine the Great herself,” he confided. “Are you sure I cannot offer you a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you. Actually I was looking for my nephew, Paddy. He was supposed to be playing indoors, but he seems to have disappeared.” Mara told him. “I really should find him, especially as it looks as if it is going to rain.”

“Perhaps I may be of some assistance. Shall we look in the stables?” Etienne suggested as he picked up his gloves and cane. Settling his black, silk top hat on his silver head, he escorted her outside. “When I was a child, the stables always held a certain fascination for me,” Etienne commented with a puzzled frown, “although for the life of me I can’t understand why. They’re such dirty, smelly places.”

Paddy was indeed to be found in the stables. Mara heard his giggle and squeal of delight, and following the sound, she discovered his small figure hunched over something in the corner of one of the empty stalls. Alain was leaning against the rough wood of the partition, a slight smile curving his lips as he watched Paddy in amusement. At the rustling sound of Mara’s skirts Alain turned, shaking his dark head.

“One would think the boy had never seen a bitch and her pups before,” Alain spoke in amazement.

“I don’t suppose he has,” Mara realized. “We have always lived in the city, and having traveled so much, well, Paddy has never had pets.”

Alain nodded in understanding. “Don’t touch her,” he warned Paddy as they heard a snarling growl from the stall, “or she’ll bite your fingers off.”

Paddy jumped back as if indeed he had been bitten, his dark eyes wide with concern. “I only wanted to touch one of the little babies,” Paddy said wistfully.

“She’s very protective over her brood, and she doesn’t know you don’t mean them any harm,” Alain explained.

“Mind what the gentleman says, Paddy,” Mara told him as he backed against her skirts and eyed the bitch warily.

“Perhaps the boy would care to see a more agreeable stablemate,” Alain suggested as he led the way down the row of stalls to one occupied by a gentle-looking mare and her newborn foal. Alain lifted Paddy up to the top railing, where he allowed him to perch, safely out of reach of any harmful hooves.

“Mara was telling me that Beaumarais had a visitor this morning,” Etienne told his son with a smile of wry amusement.

“Madame St. Laurens from Sandrose,” Alain spoke softly. His hazel eyes returned Etienne’s amusement as they shared a private joke between them. “I would have given a year’s wage to have seen that.”

“You may think we are a bit harsh on Amaryllis,” Etienne tried to explain, “but in the past our dealings with the young madame have not always been mutually agreeable.”

“Yes, the mistress of Sandrose often forgets who she is speaking with and continues to crack the whip above our heads as if we were her slaves,” Alain elaborated further, a note of resentment entering his voice. He was a free man and valued that position highly.

Paddy sneezed and Mara glanced up at him worriedly. “Come on, Paddy, I think we’d better go in.”

“Oh, Mara, let me stay just a little while longer,” Paddy pleaded. “It was only the straw that tickled my nose. Please, Mara?” he asked, his anxious brown eyes never leaving her face.

“It will be all right, mademoiselle,” Alain assured her, “for I shall keep a close eye on the boy.”

Mara hesitated a moment, but gave up when she caught Paddy’s eye and hadn’t the heart to say no. “Very well, but I want you back in the house in half an hour.”

“You do not mind, mademoiselle,” Etienne said apologetically, “but I wish to have a few words with Alain?”

“No, of course not, I can find my way back to the house,” Mara reassured Etienne as she turned to leave, but not before giving Paddy a warning look reminding him of her words.

The wind had increased. A storm approached and was blowing in gusts as Mara made her way across the stable yard toward the great house. She hurried up the steps to the gallery, her head lowered as she held her hair in place. She didn’t see Nicholas as he stepped out from one of the wide columns, his hands reaching out and grabbing hold of her as she made her way down the shadowy corridor.

Mara jumped as she felt the strong hands gripping her shoulders. She looked up into his face and wondered what he was thinking behind that bronzed mask.

“So, you bought Beaumarais,” Mara said lamely. Even to her own ears it had the sound of an accusation.

“Yes, I am the owner of Beaumarais now,” Nicholas answered quietly.

Their eyes met and they stared in silence at each other for what seemed hours.

“Congratulations, Nicholas,” she said softly, managing a slightly twisted smile as she added, “when would you like me to leave?”

Nicholas’s heavy eyebrows raised in surprise. “I thought we had discussed this question once before.”

Mara gave a sigh of exasperation, realizing that Nicholas was going to be difficult. “That was in New Orleans, before you became master of Beaumarais. Things are different now,” she told him calmly, not showing any of the trepidation she was feeling over how different things really were.

“Are they?” Nicholas asked doubtfully as his hand softly caressed her cheek, the look in his eyes daring her to refute his claim. Mara suspected Nicholas knew his touch was causing her heart to race within her chest.

Mara drew herself up proudly, jerking away her flushed cheek from his persuasive touch. “I would have thought your interests lie in a different direction now?”

Nicholas smiled lazily. “And which direction would that be, my dear?”

“Amaryllis,” Mara told him shortly.

“Ah, Amaryllis,” he said with a speculative gleam in his green eyes. “She is quite a beauty, isn’t she?”

Mara’s hands clenched at her sides. “Indeed she is, if you care for that type,” Mara answered frigidly, “but I will not be used to make her jealous.”

Nicholas’s eyes blazed with sudden anger. “And you think that is what I’m doing by keeping you here with me, making Amaryllis jealous? You underestimate my skills if you think I need to resort to such a stratagem in order to get a woman.”

“I underestimated you once, Nicholas, but never again,” Mara retorted. Swallowing what little pride she had left, she gazed up into his hard eyes, her hands pressed against his chest almost beseechingly. “Please, Nicholas, let me go now. ’Tis the best thing for everyone concerned.”

Silently Nicholas stared down into the golden eyes which for once were gazing at him clearly and earnestly. He felt a moment’s uncertainty, but only for a second, for the old suspicions returned as he caught a triumphant gleam in the tawny eyes. Mara had noted his hesitation. “Of course,” Nicholas spoke mockingly, his jade eyes running over Mara’s figure almost contemptuously, “even a gentleman of my talents needs some time to complete his seduction, and so until then, my dear,” he said, his voice intentionally dispassionate, “you’ll have to continue in the role of devoted paramour.”

Mara raised her hand to strike that mocking look off his devil’s face, feeling so much rage that she went faint with it. Nicholas’s hand closed around her wrist like a vise, and he held her hand just inches from his face.

“You might as well give in gracefully, Mara, and accept your fate,” Nicholas suggested arrogantly, watching her intently.

Mara glanced away, well aware that it was almost impossible anymore to hide her thoughts from him. When Mara looked up again, she was the picture of resigned acceptance.

“Very well, Nicholas,” she replied carefully, “you win. You are master here, aren’t you?”

Nicholas smiled with genuine amusement. “Coming from you, that sounds more like an insult.”

“I only treat you as you treat me.”

Nicholas turned her chin up so he could see her eyes. “I wonder if we shall ever fully understand one another, my dear. Or even perhaps become friends one day?”

“Friendship is based on trust, and we don’t trust each other,” Mara said sadly. “We never will.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Deep regret crossed his face for just a second.

“May I go now?” Mara demanded.

“To your room?”

“And where else would I be goin’?” Mara replied with a challenging look. As she felt herself freed from his grip, she walked quickly past him, disappearing into the house without a backward glance.

***

Mara smoothed down the soft velvet of the red gown that held so many memories for her. Tonight Amaryllis would be the center of attention, especially when she presented her special guest, the notorious Nicholas de Montaigne-Chantale. Amaryllis would be sure to play the hostess well, and all eyes would no doubt be focused in curious speculation on the one-time lovers. But when Nicholas’s eyes would fall on the red dress he would remember other times. Times that only Mara could share with him.