Zoe Read online

  Bertrand looked at Madame. “Zoé is to be wed to Claude Chafer,” he said.

  Madame’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t believe her ears. Claude Chafer wasn’t a wealthy man, but he was modestly comfortable and quite sought after by the women in their village. Madame had even considered him for Marianne at one time. Why on earth would he choose a mûlatresse as his wife?

  “Are you serious? ”

  Bertrand smiled. “Yes, wife. I am serious and very proud. She shall be married to him. After Marianne marries, of course.”

  Madame stared at her husband. If he married Zoé to Claude under the pretense of her virginity, it could ruin them. It would be considered fraud, and their reputation would not survive. “Husband, there is something I—”

  “She will marry Claude. You will talk to her and convince her to let go of this crusade to sacrifice herself for Marianne and undo whatever evil web you’ve woven around her. Because if you don’t, I shall make you pay in ways you can’t even imagine.”

  “You hate me, don’t you? ” she whimpered.

  “I feel nothing for you, Élise. You know that.”

  Madame let the tears fall. “You never let go of Capucine! She is long dead and buried. Yet you still carry her around in your heart!”

  “And why is she dead and buried? ”

  Madame shook her head. “Don’t blame all of that on me. It was your lust and arrogance that took her from you. It was not entirely my fault.”

  “I won’t do this with you!”

  “Why not? It’s hung over us for a dozen years now. You wear it as armor over your cold heart, keeping me shut out!” said Madame, crying.

  Bertrand glared at her. “My heart was not what you desired when you plied me with wine and seduced me. Oh, I know you had my maman’s help. But my heart was the last thing that you wanted when you showed up pregnant, demanding that your honor be restored! It was my money, you wretched cruel woman, that made you feel all warm and loving inside!”

  “I love you, Bertrand. Stop this!”

  “Capucine trusted you. You befriended her and worked your way into my home. Then you and my mother sent her and my daughter on a fool’s errand so that you could seduce me and destroy my world!”

  “If you loved Capucine, then you should have married her.”

  Bertrand laughed a painful laugh. “How? How! She was forced t—”

  The rest of the painful story caught in his throat. He clutched his chest in obvious pain. His face began to crumple and his knees gave way. Madame ran to him, held him up and walked him to the bed.

  “Where are your pills? ”

  “My bag…” he wheezed.

  Madame fished out his silver pillbox, and then returned with a single pill in her hand. Bertrand swallowed it, trying to breathe.

  “You can’t get yourself exhausted like this,” she said.

  He pulled away from her. “Then stop trying to destroy my child.”

  She was hurt. She wanted to tell him the truth, and expose that tramp for what she was, but it would kill him. She needed to keep the truth from him in order to protect him. He may never have loved her, but she had always loved him and always would.

  She had watched Capucine with envy as the African moved into his home, and was shown around the village as his wife with no legal standing. And it was true that she had befriended Capucine to gain her trust. Élise had stayed at their home, dining each evening with them both, all the while secretly lusting for handsome Bertrand Bouchard.

  But Bertrand had eyes for no one but Capucine. When his mother approached Élise about the seduction, she jumped at the chance. She had thought herself triumphant when she learned that she had conceived.

  She would always remember the day she appeared on his doorstep, pregnant and demanding to be married. Capucine had been there, holding Zoé in her arms and looking broken-hearted to learn that her lover, her prince among men, had betrayed her.

  When he’d conceded defeat and told Élise he would marry her, she assumed that Capucine and her bastard would disappear. Days later, she was stunned when his mother told her that her son was desperate. He would do anything to keep Capucine and the African had agreed to stay at his side. But this was only under one condition.

  If Zoé were recognized and raised as a Bouchard, then Capucine would remain as his new bride’s slave.

  At first, Élise had been furious. She wanted Capucine as far away as possible. But his mother had convinced her otherwise. Wasn’t it better to have your enemy under your heel where you could grind her down, than far away where she could plot and undermine you in all secrecy? Finally, Élise had agreed and regarded the day she would become Madame Bertrand Bouchard as the happiest in her life.

  In the end, of course, her trickery had backfired. She was treated like a stranger in her own home. The servants knew what she had done and took her orders with barely concealed contempt. She wanted to fire them all and hire new people, but Bouchard wouldn’t let her. Even worse, he spent more nights in Capucine’s arms than in hers and he barely gave their new baby a second glance.

  Her jealousy made her cruel to Capucine, who never complained. All Capucine wanted to do was protect her daughter and her lover. She took the horrible things heaped upon her with a smile. So Madame pushed Capucine further and further, hoping that the woman would snap and do something punishable, or run away.

  Neither was to occur.

  When Capucine came down with tuberculosis, Bouchard struck his wife for the first and only time. In his rage, he almost took her life. It took several servants to pull him off of her.

  The day they buried Capucine was the day Madame’s fate was sealed. He never visited her bed again. Madame focused her energies on the girls and tried to ignore her heartache. But no matter how much cold antagonism her husband showed her, she never stopped loving him.

  Bertrand had also paid a high price for that one-night lapse in judgment. “I betrayed my Capucine twice,” he once told her. “The first was by planting my seed in you and the second by allowing her to become your servant. You came into our home and destroyed our happiness.” Over the years, Madame had seen how his sense of guilt ate away at him. Capucine’s ghost followed him everywhere. He couldn’t escape the sorrow of his betrayal.

  Now looking at his pain, she wanted desperately to comfort him. But he was still closed off to her. He’d taken his pill, but then turned away from her. Unable to think of anything better to do, she offered him water—and a lie.

  “I shall speak to Zoé, but I have no influence over her.”

  Bouchard accepted the goblet of water and swallowed. “Leave me while I rest.” He handed her the goblet, stretched out, and closed his eyes.

  She stood there for a long time, viewing him with a mixture of affection, irritation and resentment. He was tired from the long trip, and their fights drained him, but that wasn’t all of it. His health was failing, and the reality was that he might soon leave her. She loved him and didn’t want to lose him, but she had to be realistic. She had to make sure that Marianne married, and that neither he nor Zoé ruined her future.

  It was Marianne’s survival she was fighting for— Marianne’s and her own.

  EF La Roque walked out to the open veranda to find Sheridan standing in the yard, smoking his pipe. Sheridan saw him approaching, put up his hands defensively and backed away.

  “Wait, Julien. Let me explain.” La Roque grabbed him by his collar and lifted him from the ground. Sheridan dropped his pipe and clawed at La Roque’s hands.

  “Let me explain!” “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck like a twig.”

  Sheridan’s eyes bulged. His face turned a deep shade of red and spittle bubbled from his lips. La Roque shook him like a rag doll and then threw him to the ground. Sheridan grabbed his throat, gagging and backing away.

  “I want you out of my house,” La Roque said.

  Sheridan struggled to get up. “Wait!” He put a hand up, still gasping for air.r />
  “I want you gone,” La Roque said.

  Sheridan appeared to be shocked. “I’m sorry. After years of friendship, allow me the opportunity to make amends.”

  La Roque shook his head. “I won’t have a friend like you. I have misjudged you. I thought your narrow-mindedness was a cover. I had no idea it was actually who you are.”

  Sheridan got to his feet, dusting himself off. “I was wrong to take liberties with her and I beg your pardon. Please don’t send me away. Your friendship means a lot to me.”

  “My money means a lot to you.”

  “No! We’re like brothers. We’ve been through worse situations than this. Why are you being so irrational? ”

  “You tried to violate her!”

  “She attacked me!”

  La Roque felt a new surge of fury and reached for Sheridan again. The American fell back.

  “Very well,” Sheridan said. “I tried to hurt her. I was wrong.”

  “You owe her an apology.”

  Sheridan was stunned. “What? Are you serious? ”

  “You give her an apology, or you will meet me at dawn to settle this as men.”

  Sheridan stared at him. “I’ve never apologized to a woman in my life. Not even my own mother. So I won’t apologize to her. I have my honor, too, you know.”

  “You mean the honor that makes you brutalize young girls to make yourself feel like a man? That honor? ” He gave Sheridan another shove.

  “Or is it the honor that makes you say vile things to people you deem beneath you? Is it that honor? ” He pushed Sheridan again, forcing him to step back, fearful.

  “Or, wait. Is it the honor that brings you to my home to scheme me out of my money because you can’t maintain your own fortune? Tell me, my friend. Is it that honor you speak of? ”

  “That’s enough!” Sheridan shouted. Trying to recover his dignity, he straightened his topcoat and gave La Roque a haughty scowl. “You win. I shall apologize to her. Just don’t throw me out. I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he added.

  La Roque frowned. “What do you mean you don’t have anywhere to go? ”

  Sheridan rubbed his jaw. “I lost it all. My plantation and my fortune: it’s all gone.” Sheridan dropped down onto a bench. He steadied his breathing and told La Roque the humiliating truth. He said he was ashamed, desperate to hold on to his family home. He had worked his own rice fields at the side of people he once enslaved. Eventually, unable to farm and unable to purchase slaves, he had sold off most of them but he was unable to pay the mortgage. The bank tossed him out. He had to borrow the money to pay for his passage aboard ship.

  La Roque listened with astonishment. He’d heard stories of fortunes being lost before and so Sheridan’s story was nothing to new to him. He wasn’t bothered by Sheridan’s loss of wealth but of something far more significant: the loss of trust and honesty.

  “You lost your home and you couldn’t tell me that? ”

  “Pride, Julien. You know what that is. It’s the same thing that keeps you locked in your own hell. Well, I have pride, too, old boy, and I couldn’t come here groveling.” Sheridan’s cheeks burned a scarlet red.

  La Roque ran a hand through his thick hair and blew out a heated breath. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”

  “May I stay? ”

  “Apologize to her!” La Roque snapped and walked away.

  EF

  Zoé sat at the piano in the salon, playing as Marianne stood next to her singing. La Roque walked in to see them and Marianne smiled, singing directly to him. He looked past her to Zoé, who also smiled at him and kept playing. His anger lessened and he came further into the room, taking a seat. Marianne rose, turning from side to side, her soft pink gown swaying at her feet as she sang from her heart out. Sheridan entered the room, his expression revealing his surprise at how wonderful her voice was.

  The song resonated with both men, but their attentions were divided. Zoé looked over to La Roque, whose gaze dwelled on her, and she blushed. She could still feel his lips and hands. Despite her fear and resentment, she longed to feel his touch again.

  Madame walked in as Marianne ended her song. She smiled at her daughter, delighted to see her happy. Incurring the wrath of her husband had drained her, and as always she sought solace in the unconditional love Marianne gave her.

  Everyone clapped at the end of the song, and Marianne curtsied. With her eyes, she asked permission from Maman, then walked over to La Roque and took a seat next to him. “Mon seigneur, was that pleasing to you? ”

  He was a little surprised. “Yes, a very nice song.” Marianne beamed. “Papa told me of your news. I have to

  say that I am overwhelmed with joy at the prospect of becoming your wife.” He glanced at Zoé, who nodded, encouraging him, desperation in her eyes. He looked back at Marianne. “Well, I think you are a special girl. I am honored you would have me.”

  “Bravo, old boy!” Sheridan clapped. “You didn’t tell me that it was official!”

  La Roque gave him an angry look. Sheridan ignored it and approached Zoé, who looked up at him with disgust.

  He gave a little mocking bow. “Mademoiselle, I fear that I was quite rude to you earlier. I would like to offer you a sincere public apology for my behavior.”

  Madame lifted an eyebrow.

  Zoé felt the sting of his mockery but remained polite. “Merci,” she said softly.

  Sheridan winked at her, and she shivered in revulsion.

  Marianne asked her mother, “Where is Papa? ”

  Madame forced a smile. “He’s worn a little thin from his travels. He shall join us for supper.”

  Zoé resumed playing the piano, pointedly ignoring Sheridan. He poured himself a glass of wine from the decanter. Marianne chattered on about what her life would be like living at the chatêau, but La Roque ignored her. He watched Zoé play, and everyone in the room disappeared but them.

  She sat with her baby blue gown spread across the piano bench. Her dark hair, wound in curls that cascaded down her back, was pulled back from her shoulders to reveal her delicate throat. The light sparkled off the blue teardrop jewel hanging from her ear, giving her the appearance of someone magical.

  She glanced over at him, her long lashes making her doelike eyes hypnotic. They shared a knowing look that made them both tense under the desire that bound them. She started to sing and even Marianne was silenced by the sound of her voice. La Roque believed that Zoé sang only for him. He was transfixed as her soft lips parted, and the song floated out of her in an enchanting way. He’d never heard such a melody before or the language of its lyrics but he understood her song and its beauty, like hers, captivated him.

  Marianne touched La Roque’s hand and giggled. “She’s singing a song taught to her by her real maman. It’s in some African language.”

  La Roque gave her an absent-minded smile and patted her hand. Her innocence was endearing, but he couldn’t imagine babysitting her as a wife. His attention returned to Zoé. Strange, how he couldn’t get enough of it. He understood his father’s obsession with Marcela now. He was powerless to control his desire for her.

  Madame watched. She saw how Marianne held La Roque’s hand, happily believing that she was embarking upon some adventure, unaware that her husband-to-be lusted after her sister. She watched Zoé playing and Madame grew angry. It was that girl’s fault. That girl and before her, her mother had destroyed dreams. Capucine had ruined Madame’s chances of a happy marriage and now Capucine’s daughter would do the same to Marianne. History was indeed repeating itself.

  Her jaw clenched and her hands curled into tight fists. How could she make this right without revealing painful truths? Exposing Zoé would destroy Marianne and kill Bertrand Bouchard. It was an impossible situation.

  Sheridan listened to the wicked song the temptress was singing. He recognized it from the chants of his plantation slaves. The song was evil! He seethed with resentment. She had no right to be treated as a lady, much
less an aristocrat–and La Roque was wrong to have demanded an apology from him.

  Sheridan’s gaze moved from Zoé to his old friend, and envy deepened his resentment. Since La Roque would be marrying the blonde twit, he wanted a consolation prize of his own. Zoé seemed consumed with protecting that father of hers, and he could use that to turn things to his favor. He needed to be smart, not brutish. He needed to gain La Roque’s favor. If he bided his time and remained patient, he could accomplish both.

  None of the others noticed Bertrand Bouchard when he stepped into the room and paused. His heart swelled, as it always did when he heard Zoé sing like her mother. His gaze shifted from Zoé to Marianne and back, and he beamed with pride. Both of his daughters were blossoming into such beautiful women.

  When Zoé finished her song, Bertrand was the first to applaud, alerting everyone to his presence. He went to Zoé, clapping, and Zoé rose from the piano. Embracing her, he kissed her face. “That was beautiful, as always.”

  “Merci beaucoup,” she said, hugging him tightly.

  La Roque rose, letting go of Marianne’s hand. Gérard appeared, giving him a slight nod.

  “Everyone, I believe it’s time for supper. Let us adjourn to the dining room.”

  Bertrand put his arm around Zoé, and extended a hand to Marianne, who accepted it as they walked out. La Roque smiled at their closeness. He understood Zoé’s need to remain golden in her father’s eyes.

  Madame watched them, too, and felt a familiar pang of sorrow and embarrassment. Her husband hadn’t even acknowledged her with a glance. After all these years, his indifference still hurt, especially when it was displayed before strangers. It was good that he loved the children, but it would have been nice, if only for once, he’d…

  She heard La Roque sigh, and her momentary preoccupation with her own regrets evaporated into a new surge of anger.

  “He adores his girls,” Madame said.

  La Roque turned around to see Madame glaring at him. He smiled at her. “Indeed, he and I share that in common.”

  “You’ve threatened everything. You’ve ruined Zoé. I suspect that you will be compensating us for our loss!”