The Price of Deception (33 page)

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Authors: Vicki Hopkins

Tags: #romantic suspense, #love story, #chick lit, #historical romance, #victorian romance, #romance series, #romance saga, #19th century romance

BOOK: The Price of Deception
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Suzette shrunk under the gazes of Robert’s ancestors,
who appeared to be following them with their eyes. She wondered if
the estate had ghosts.

“Madame Moreau and Master Robert Moreau,” Mr. Winston
announced, as they came through the doorway.

Robert stood from his place at the head of the table
and walked over to greet Suzette and his son. He offered his arm
and escorted her to the chair to his left, placing his son to the
left of Suzette.

“Mother, I’d like to introduce to you Madame Moreau
and her son, Robert.”

Suzette gulped as she eyed the stern Dowager Duchess,
dressed in such finery and jewels that she felt like a pauper in
her plain blue evening dress. It suddenly dawned on her that she
didn’t know how to formally address Robert’s mother, so she picked
the obvious.

“Duchess, it is a pleasure to meet you,” she offered,
with a nervous smile. Suzette curtsied. Upon standing upright, she
brought Robert to stand in front of her, bent down, and whispered
in his ear. “What do you say to the nice lady?”

Little Robert stood tall, placed his right hand on
his stomach, his left hand on the small of his back, and bowed at
the waist. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madame. My name is Robert
Philippe Moreau.” He stood back up and looked at the Duchess. A big
smile lit up his face.

“Very polite,” Robert chimed in, filled with pride.
Suzette saw him look at his mother waiting for her to respond.

“Pleasure to meet you, as well,” she replied, her
lips pursed tightly together. Her eyes and demeanor remained icy
and unyielding, which agitated Suzette’s nerves.

After everyone sat at the table and the first course
arrived, Robert attempted to lighten the conversation with talk of
their good trip and his plans to show his guests around the estate.
Of course, the matter of young Robert’s encounter with horses also
became a prime dinner table discussion.

Suzette felt thankful that her son had decided to
behave politely, fearing that perhaps he had been overwhelmed by
his surroundings. Footmen stood behind them at the table, only
stepping forward to serve the multiple courses one by one as they
arrived. The place settings and silverware were impressive, as well
as the décor of the room. Not wishing to remain silent as a mouse
throughout dinner, Suzette offered a compliment.

“The dining room is very beautiful, Duchess,
especially the pattern of the wallpaper. It’s stunning.”

Mary lifted her head and looked at Suzette with icy
daggers in her eyes. “My son’s wife chose the wallpaper,” she
replied, in snippy arrogance. “Jacquelyn had impeccable taste in
decorating. In fact, many of the rooms in our estate reflect her
personal tastes, intelligence, and beauty.”

Suzette looked at Robert, who gave a disapproving
look toward his mother. She merely ignored his disdainful gaze.
Suzette’s confidence faded away like the evening sunset. The room
grew awkwardly silent, with only the sound of the clock on the
fireplace mantel ticking away the time. Hopefully, dinner would
soon end, and she could return to her room to contemplate her
strange and awkward new life.

* * * *


Over my dead body!” Mary screamed
at Robert. “Like hell you’ll bring her and your illegitimate son
into this household. Your father would roll over in his grave, if
he knew to what depths you’ve sunk.”

“I will not argue with you, Mother. Suzette and
Robert will live in the west wing in the suite of rooms that are
far away from yours. They are empty as a shell, and now they’ll be
put to good use.”

“I cannot believe you, Robert! Have you lost all
sense of propriety by bringing your mistress into this house and
that—that boy?”

Robert clenched his jaw at the disrespect his mother
had shown his son. “Must I remind you that boy is your grandson?
He’s my flesh and blood and yours, too. There will be no heir
coming from Jacquelyn Spencer’s womb. The woman is barren and
always will be.”

Mary huffed and walked over to the window, turning
her back to Robert. Her chest heaved up and down in anger; but
somewhere inside of her heart, a tug pulled at her like a tiny
child wanting her attention.

“Jacquelyn—do you suppose you’ll ever find her?” Mary
still upset over the news of her departure and terrible kidnapping
of another’s baby, thought of her welfare.

“I don’t know. I somehow doubt that we will, and that
grieves me for many reasons. I will hire private detectives, and I
know the Paris police filed charges against her for kidnapping.
They’re actively pursuing her whereabouts.”

“Before she left,” Mary confessed, “I tried to
dissuade her from going to Paris to search after you. She would not
listen.” She turned from the window and faced Robert. “Something
inside her soul was amiss; and frankly, I believe it was her
inability to cope with the grief of being barren and your lack of
love.”

Mary looked into her son’s blue eyes that appeared as
troubled as her own. “What she has done is unforgiveable. If she’s
found, for heaven’s sake, she’ll spend the rest of her life in
prison like a common criminal.”

“Perhaps, but I do not think it will come to that.
She is a clever woman—cleverer than I gave her credit. I believe
she planned to leave me anyway once she arrived in Paris.”

“Why? What proof do you have that she premeditated
this course of action?”

“The fact that her jewelry box is empty.”

“What?” Mary’s eyes bulged in horror.

“She knew exactly which pieces to take to allot her
the greatest value. I’m sure if they are sold, they will provide
her a source of income for years.”

Mary moaned and placed her hand over her stomach.
“You mean my mother’s necklaces, plus your father’s family
jewels?”

Robert regretfully nodded his head. “I’m afraid
so.”

Mary backed up into a chair and sat down with a flop.
“Oh, Robert, how cruel to take our family heirlooms!”

“I surmise, that in her mind, it was merely another
way to punish me for my sins against her.”

“It still sticks in my craw that you took a mistress
and have an illegitimate son,” she admitted, with a distinct
disappointment etched across her face. “But for your sake, I shall
try to accept those whom you love.” She forced from her lips a
small token of compromise. “All I can offer at the moment is
civility, nothing more.”

“That’s all I ask,” Robert replied, knowing that his
mother’s words came with enormous sacrifice. “Civility is a good
start, because Suzette is already brokenhearted over many things,
Mother. I do not want to add to her sadness.”

Robert lowered his head and looked at the carpet
beneath his feet, dealing with the guilt of his participation in
the agony that had followed everyone’s life. His pursuit of Suzette
had come at a great price, but the price of love had been
unavoidable to obtain the happiness he had always desired.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He crossed the room and
kissed his mother’s forehead.

She released a small grin and placed her hand on his
cheek, giving him the proverbial pat. Rarely, had she told him of
her love in words. Robert knew that through her show of affection,
she spoke what she could not articulate.

Chapter Twenty
Eight

“Well,” he said, sucking in a deep breath. “I
promised a young boy a ride on a pony, so I’d better get to it,” he
announced to Giles, who had just finished dressing him.

He left his suite and headed for Suzette’s, hoping
that she had settled in after her first night in a strange
location. Robert decided not to visit her bed—at least not yet.
Everyone needed to adjust to their rapidly changing lives. Robert
had much to investigate, as well, regarding his legal rights.

Suzette made no decision when to tell their son the
truth regarding his parentage. That morning, he did ask why his
daddy didn’t come with them. She painfully informed him that he had
been busy with work and left it at that. Robert was thankful that
the attention span of a five-year-old child took his mind quickly
off Philippe, as he focused on his pony ride instead.

Robert arrived at Suzette’s suite and knocked on the
door. A chambermaid answered. “Good morning, Duke,” she said, with
a curtsy. “The Madame is dressing for the morning.”

“And the boy?”

“Oh, he’s up, sir. Running about looking for things
to do.”

Just then his son ran up to the door, and Robert’s
face broke into a broad smile. “Well, little man, are you all
settled in?”

“Yes, sir. You have a very big house!”

“I suppose I do, but now that you’re here, it won’t
seem so empty.”

Little Robert’s expression turned into one of
curiosity. He fixated his eyes upon his father and studied his
features with such intensity that it made Robert uncomfortable. He
broke the lad’s stare with a question that he knew would pique his
interest.

“Well, now, do you have any riding clothes, like
boots, breeches, and a riding jacket?”

His eyes grew big as saucers. “No, sir. Do I need
them before I can ride the pony?”

“Hum,” Robert mused, wanting to clothe him properly
before letting him crawl upon the back of a horse. “I think it
would be a good idea. How about I ask Giles, my assistant, to
measure you and go into town and buy the things you’ll need? A
riding crop would be a good idea too.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, a riding crop is like a stick with a leather
end that you hit your pony with to get him to go faster.”

The countenance on Robert’s son fell and fear spread
across his face. His reaction surprised him, so he knelt down in
front of the lad and put one hand on his shoulder.

“What’s the matter?”

Little Robert shuffled his feet and pulled his eyes
away. “I don’t like to hit with a leather stick.”

“Why?”

“Because my daddy beat me with his belt and it really
hurt.”

Robert strained not to curse aloud in his son’s
presence. Philippe had taken his hand to the boy and placed fear in
his heart. It sickened him to the core.

“We don’t hit the pony like that, Robert. I’ll show
you how to use it, but we never hit hard—only touch him a bit to
get a good trot.”

The answer seemed to appease his son, and the worry
faded from his face. “Do I have to wait for all that stuff before I
ride the pony?”

“Well, I think it wise, but you can come with me to
the stables before your clothes arrive and see my horses. I’ll
introduce you to Adara, she is Father’s . . .” Robert’s words
trailed off, and an embarrassed flush filled his cheeks.

Little Robert looked at him waiting for him to
continue. He could barely speak after talking to his son like a
father.

“You mean your daddy’s horse?”

“Well, not quite, but I’ll explain that later.
Anyway, you can meet my other horses, and you can pet them, too.
Maybe I’ll even let you brush one this morning.”

“Okay!”

“And what are you boys up to? Talking about horses,
are we?” Suzette’s voice came joyously from the door of her
bedchamber.

Robert turned and smiled at her. “Well, you know, I
have made a promise, and I must keep my promise.”

“Now you be careful, Robert, and do everything this
nice gentleman says when he teaches you to ride. Mommy doesn’t want
you falling off and getting hurt.”

“Oh, Mommy,” he protested, stomping one foot. “I’m
big enough to take care of myself.”

Robert laughed as he watched his son walk over to the
window and look out at the fields below.

“You’ll soon find out that this young man has a bit
of a temper when provoked,” Suzette whispered.

“He’s so adorable,” Robert declared with pride. “I
shall love him forever.”

Robert looked at him imagining Philippe’s cruel
beating. He would never discipline his son in such a manner. He
turned to Suzette. “Did Philippe punish him physically? He just
told me his daddy took a belt to him.”

“I tried to stop him, Robert, truly I did. He came
home from the West Indies and found out that he had tipped over
Angelique’s bassinet. He lost all sense of control and took him for
a beating. He locked me out of the room, and I was helpless to
prevent it from happening.”

“Bastard,” Robert mumbled low enough not for his son
to hear. “I’ll never beat the child, I assure you.”

“Robert, when should we tell him the truth—I mean
about you?”

“Well, I almost slipped myself a few minutes ago, but
the reference went right over his head, thank God.” Robert reached
out for Suzette’s hand. “In time. Perhaps, when we marry, he will
be more acclimated to his surroundings and closer to me as a
friend. When his memory of Philippe begins to fade away, he will be
more amendable to accepting me as his father.”

“I’m afraid, Robert, that I will never be your
wife.”

“Don’t be, Suzette. I’ve already made an appointment
with my solicitor to discuss the legal ramifications of my
situation. I’m thinking of petitioning the court and even
Parliament, if I must, for a dissolution based on her criminal
activity and abandonment. I may prevail on those grounds alone,
along with the accusation of adultery.”

“Do you think it will work?”

“It will be a long and arduous process, Suzette. I
will not lie. It could take years.”

“Years?” A veil of sadness draped across her
face.

“You’ll wait for me, won’t you?” He flashed a teasing
wink.

Suzette giggled. “Do you even have to ask? I’d wait
forever, as long as I’m by your side.”

Robert smiled. “Well, now, we’re off to the stables,”
he announced. “Oh, and Mother would like you to join her for
afternoon tea in the rose parlor at two o’clock sharp,” he added.
He saw panic flash across her face, so he reached out and tapped
the tip of her nose with his index finger.

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