The French Aristocrat's Baby (16 page)

Any colour Gwen might have regained disappeared as she saw Etienne pulling out his mobile. ‘No! My parents must never know I got things back to front!’ She was adamant. ‘As you said, they’re old-fashioned. It’s wedding first, babies later as far as they’re concerned.’

Etienne tucked his phone away again. ‘Fine. Just as you like. My people will get all the paperwork sorted out. The moment it’s complete, we’ll marry with the minimum of fuss. Then we’ll fly straight to your parents. You may not want me to ask their permission formally, but they will be the first to know. It’s the least
I can do. Trust me, Gwen. Everything will be over and done with in a few signatures,’ he assured her. ‘My people will do everything, including the catering—for once, you will not need to lift a finger.’ Gwen’s head was whirling, filled with so many panicked thoughts that she could hardly muster a single straight sentence. One thought, however, was clear.

‘So…I’m not going to have a hand in catering for my own wedding?’ she said slowly.

Etienne looked puzzled. ‘Why would you want to? It’s your big day. You’ll want to mingle with my friends and family. I’ve seen how much you enjoy the social aspect of your work at the restaurant.’

‘But I hate all that, Etienne! I only do it for the sake of my business!’

‘I’m not so sure, Gwen. No one could fake the way you handle yourself in a crowd, and deal with the diners. You’ll be the new public face of the house of Malotte. It’s about time we had an injection of brains and beauty. The Moreau family has cornered the market in fighters and philanderers for centuries. I’m going to turn our little accident into the best thing that has ever happened to my family.’

Gwen was silent for a long time. If she married Etienne, would there be any room left for her? It already felt as if she were drifting away—dwindling into someone smaller and weaker. But what were her options here? She didn’t want an abortion, her family certainly had no money to spare and would be horrified by her predicament…and here was Etienne, determined to take care of everything. Was it such a high price to pay? It
was his duty to do the best for his ancient family. He wanted it to do more than simply survive. He wanted it to thrive, and that was exactly what she wanted for her baby. It was an unromantic basis for a marriage, but, to use his executive-speak, it ticked all the right boxes for both of them. Not simply practical boxes either. Looking at Etienne now, she saw his eyes glowing with enthusiasm for his latest project. Unable to help herself, she thought back to the one unforgettable night they had shared. She felt the memory warm her like a caress.

‘When you put it like that, who am I to refuse?’ she said at last.

F
ROM
that moment, Etienne would not let Gwen lift a finger or take any decisions. His staff swung into action. Within hours most of her belongings had been moved out of the
gite
and installed in the chateau. He supervised everything, including Gwen. Whenever he saw her, he complained if she wasn’t sitting down, eating something nourishing or preferably doing both at once. The whole estate became a visible whirlwind of activity. Wherever Gwen went, it felt as though she was in the way. A constant procession of gardeners brought flowers into the house for the indoor staff to arrange. The building was filled with the sounds of curtains being pulled back and squadrons of cleaners opening up long-locked rooms. When the racket finally stopped and Gwen escaped to her new bedroom that evening, she fell asleep within seconds. Doing nothing was turning out to be more exhausting than working for a living.

She woke next morning into a glorious delusion. Opening her eyes to see the unfamiliar surroundings, for a few seconds she imagined Etienne must have swept her into his bed again. Then she realised she
was alone. Almost straight away, a feeling of nausea threw her out of bed. It shredded her dreams with the efficiency of a
demi-lune.
Already exhausted, she dragged herself into the shower room. The surroundings of cool green marble revived her a little, and she managed to summon up enough energy to check its cupboards. Her bathroom, like Etienne’s, was stocked with a staggering array of soaps, gels and moisturising milks. The whole place hummed gently with a cocktail of organic, plant-based fragrances. She settled on a bottle of invigorating shower gel allegedly chockfull of sea minerals. Ten minutes beneath a spray head the size of a dinner plate was enough to start her thinking about breakfast. In the time it took her to dress in a black skirt and simple white blouse, she was ravenous. Despite her dread of meeting anyone who might tell her to sit down or go back to bed, she set off in search of food.

The chateau was enormous, but the silence of its sunlit halls meant the smallest sound travelled for many metres. She soon found her way to a spectacular vaulted room on the ground floor, overlooking a courtyard garden.

Etienne was already seated at the head of a long dining table. When he saw her enter the room, he folded his newspaper and stood up with a smile.

‘
Bonjour
, Gwen. I hope you enjoyed a restful night?’ His voice was resonant with concern.

‘Thank you. It was wonderful.’
But lonely
, she added to herself. She headed towards the breakfast display, set out on an enormous antique sideboard like the one she remembered from that first fateful night.

‘Take a seat. The waitress will fetch anything you need.’ Etienne indicated the far end of the table, remote from him. Sure enough, a woman in a severe black dress and white apron moved soundlessly into position.

‘But the food is only a few yards away!’ Gwen protested.

‘You need to have a break, Gwen.’ Etienne dismissed her protest with a shrug. ‘You’ve been working too hard, and you are run-down and tired. That is not good for a pregnant woman. So you will be pampered for a while—enjoy it.
Both
of you.’

Far away in a distant part of Etienne’s cavernous house, a mason’s drill hummed into life. As she gave her order for fresh fruit salad and tea Gwen frowned, and not only at the idea of someone fetching and carrying for her over such a short distance.

‘This house seems perfect to me, Etienne. Why does it have to be put under attack by builders?’

‘I bought it for its position, beauty and history. It was always going to be too large for a single man, especially while I was dividing my time between so many other properties. It only makes more work for the staff, so I concentrated the restoration work on my suite and the few rooms I needed downstairs. Now you will be a permanent resident here, we shall need every inch of space. You will want to entertain,’ he explained.

Gwen was not convinced. ‘You said this place was your bolt hole. It’s supposed to be somewhere you can escape, and get away from people.’

‘Yes, but that was before you became pregnant.’

He made it sound like an accusation. She reddened angrily. ‘Don’t try and make out it’s all my fault!’

‘I’m not. There’s no point in trying to apportion blame. The damage has been done, so I’m adapting to it. I can’t expect you and my baby to live like hermits.’

At his direct mention of the baby, Gwen panicked. Scrabbling for a sheet anchor, she looked at her watch. ‘Look at the time! I’ll have to hurry if I’m going to get to Le Rossignol before the florist delivers—’

‘There’s no need. Relax!’ Etienne said solicitously. ‘You employ plenty of staff there now. Let them deal with it. If you want something to do, why don’t you try a makeover of the chateau menus? I’m sure Chef would be willing to negotiate.’

Gwen pulled back as though she had been burned. She couldn’t imagine a life without her work. It defined her, and gave her a purpose in life.

‘That’s very kind of you, Etienne, but I’d rather we stuck to our usual arrangement when it comes to the restaurant.’ It was all she could do to hide the panic in her voice. ‘
Laissez-faire
—isn’t that what it’s called?’

‘Why worry about the place when you don’t have to?’ He laughed off her concern. ‘You have a new role now. I’m not going to let you out of my sight for an instant.’ He was starting to look quite pleased with himself. ‘We will elect a temporary manager. He can be in charge of the day-to-day running of the restaurant while you’re distracted. You told me you were happy enough just to cook. Use my investment to make it easy for yourself. You need rest and supervision to make sure my heir gets the very best possible start in life.’

‘Are you suggesting this because you think I can’t manage?’ she said slowly.

‘No partner of mine should be content to merely “manage”. I want you to be completely relaxed and happy, Gwen. That is an entirely different state of mind. Look at the difference our business partnership has made to you in only a few weeks. You’ve been freed from the treadmill, you’ve had time to rest, and concentrate on the part of the job you love best.’ His voice dropped to an appreciative whisper. ‘You are a completely different woman from the one I met all those weeks ago.’

‘For better, or worse?’ Gwen put her head in her hands.

Etienne shot a meaningful look at the maid. She took the hint and evaporated from the room. After a suitable silence, Gwen heard Etienne stand up and walk slowly towards her. She did not move a muscle. When he reached her end of the table, he pulled out the nearest chair. He dropped into the seat. His arms in their smart, dark business suit intruded into her line of sight. He was ready for work. She didn’t feel ready for anything—especially when he reached out and gently pulled her hands away from her face. Clasping them in his, he looked deep into her eyes. Once again, she was trapped in the smouldering intensity of his gaze. He was studying her in a way that laid her feelings bare. It redirected the heat of her anger in a way that scared her. Surely, mothers weren’t supposed to feel desire. They were supposed to be down-to-earth, and sensible.

‘Gwen, I have made some terrible mistakes in the past.’ His words were heavy with something she assumed
was reassurance. ‘I realise that now, and don’t intend to repeat
any
of them. I won’t allow you to face this alone. That’s why things must be like this. My son is going to have the best possible start in life. Believe me.’

She watched him, watching her. His eyes were dark with determination, and the set of his jaw was totally resolute.

With the delicacy she remembered so well, his thumb began to draw slow shapes over the back of her hand.

‘It’s all in hand. Flowers, food, stationery, ceremony—the whole show is already on the road, as you say. My people have organised everything. You don’t have to do a thing—except edit your part of the guest list.’ He went on, oblivious to her growing horror. ‘When I came into your room late last night to see if you wanted anything, I saw your address book on the bedside table. My PA put it straight onto a database.’

Gwen found herself totally unable to speak. That didn’t matter. Etienne was more than happy to do that for her—along with everything else, apparently.

‘You looked so peaceful—’ he began with a smile, but ‘peaceful’ was the last thing Gwen felt. Rigid with rage and furious at the effect he continued to have on her, she wrenched her hands from his grasp.

‘So you took my address book in the same way you’ve taken over the rest of my life?’ She stood up, shaking. ‘It hardly sounds like you need me at all. In fact, I might as well say goodbye to you right now, Etienne, rather than clutter up your itinerary any further!’ She heard him call her name, but did not look back.

Twenty minutes later, Gwen was pacing back and
forwards in her room, going over arguments to use against him and trying to calm herself before going back down, when she heard a familiar sound. It was Etienne’s car prowling along beneath her window. He was leaving for the office, without saying goodbye. The realisation sliced into her heart. For the first time, the full horror of the situation swept over her. Independence was so important to her that she had travelled halfway across Europe to find it, and ended up
pregnant
by a man who knew nothing about her—who, she now realised, saw her as nothing but a ticket to his heir.

She buried her face in her pillow, but there was no time for tears. She had made her choice. For the sake of her baby, she was determined to make the best of this. However much she might ache inside.

Efficient as ever, Etienne had already put his staff to work. Within moments, Gwen got a text from his PA. An appointment had been made for her at Malotte’s most fashionable beautician. All she had to do was turn up. Everything else was in hand. Sure enough, as she was reading the text she heard one of the estate’s limousines being drawn up outside the main villa doors.

She went down to tell the chauffeur she would drive herself, in her own car. It was hopeless. Etienne’s system didn’t allow for alterations. From now on, she would ring for a chauffeur whenever she wanted to go anywhere at all. Gwen bit her tongue, and counted to ten. She couldn’t rail at the staff. It was hardly their fault if the Count of Malotte wanted to dictate her every move. Bottling up her anger, she tried to console herself.
She wouldn’t have the hassle of driving through Malotte’s narrow, twisting streets, or finding a parking space. There might be advantages to Etienne’s guilty conscience after all.

A shame they didn’t make up for the loss of her freedom.

Summer was flying away. The nightingales had already vanished from the overgrown margins of the chateau grounds. They had escaped before the chill of winter. How Gwen wished she could follow them. She gazed out of the window as the assistant put the finishing touches to her makeover. The village square was drenched in sunshine. Outside, in flickering shadows cast by the lime trees, life was going on in all its noisy variety. In spite of her resolution, she craved the chance to escape the shadow of Etienne’s claustrophobic care. She needed to strike out on her own, if only for an hour or two.

The contrast between the air-conditioned comfort indoors and the oven of Malotte in late summer gave her quite a shock. Straight away, she realised that walking anywhere in this heat would make quite a statement. For the first few hundred metres, everything was fine. Then she left the town behind. Without the shadows cast by the buildings of Malotte, the feeling of heat increased. The road out of town was barren and dusty, making her journey more and more of a trial. The red-hot road reflected heat up into her face in a way the
maquis
would not, so she quickly abandoned the highway for a short cut across country. A sheep track ran diagonally up the slope towards the chateau. She suddenly knew where she was
heading. She needed to be somewhere outside Etienne’s influence—to escape, just for a short while. Trying to ignore the crippling heat, she headed towards the
gite.

It looked dusty and deserted. It was nowhere near the luxury and comfort of Etienne’s chateau, and yet the small bedroom, with all its lack of glamour, was one of the most wonderful things she’d seen for days. Exhausted, emotionally and physically drained, Gwen walked over to the bed and lay down in the wonderful, solitary silence.

She opened her eyes to find them filled with Etienne. ‘What have you done to my baby?’ he roared.

Gwen put a hand to her temple. ‘Stop shouting…what on earth are you talking about?’

Dragging herself into a sitting position, her head full of cotton wool, she had the feeling his words wouldn’t have made much more sense if she had been wide awake.

‘I’ve been searching everywhere! Where have you been?’

He was furious. When she realised how the shadows had crept out of the corners of her bedroom, she knew why. She’d been sleeping for hours.

‘Here, of course.’

That obviously wasn’t the right answer. Etienne threw himself away from her bed and started pacing. Finally shaking herself free from sleep, Gwen shuffled her thoughts into order. ‘And at the beautician’s. That’s all.’

Etienne was beside himself. He strode backwards and forwards, waving his arms in wordless fury.

‘You never called a car!’ he managed eventually. ‘So I visited the salon to give you a lift myself. They said you’d left hours before. I tried Le Rossignol. They hadn’t seen you. For all I knew, that meant you were trying to get back to Wales. You might have had an accident, or been picked up, or murdered, or worse…What were you thinking of? Why didn’t you ring and tell me what you were doing? I drove up and down that road! Gwen, I’ve been—!’ He lifted his arms into the air again, but the words wouldn’t come. He let them drop with a bang.

Gwen looked at him in shock. She had never seen him like this. She hadn’t been gone for long enough to deserve this level of anger, surely? Pushed beyond endurance, she opened her mouth to tell him what an arrogant, controlling, unbearable man he was when something in his eyes—some emotion quickly masked—stopped her. Suddenly, she remembered his first question.