The Caged Countess. Joanna Fulford
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Claudine reddened. Ordinarily the very suggestion would have been an insult to a lady, but a second’s reflection showed he hadn’t intended it that way. The words had been spoken with casual ease and they served to underline what he thought her to be. Under the circumstances she could hardly blame him though. To express indignation now would sound like total hypocrisy.
‘And leap from the frying pan into the fire?’ She shook her head. ‘The thought does not appeal.’
Her reply surprised him, not least because it had sounded genuine. He searched her face but could see no trace of duplicity there, only a very attractive blush. That surprised him too. All the same, it was hard to believe that she had never taken advantage of the relative freedom that her situation afforded. After all, had he not briefly experienced the heady sensuality beneath her outwardly cool demeanour?
‘What will you do then?’ he asked.
‘I will go back to Sussex.’
‘To your house by the sea?’
‘Yes.’
‘In what part of Sussex does it lie?’
‘About ten miles from Hove.’
He stared at her intently for a moment, an expression that did not go unnoticed.
‘Are you familiar with the area at all?’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I know it, but I have not been there for many years.’
‘Of course, how should you?’ She paused. ‘You have family there perhaps?’
‘No, my relatives reside in London for the most part.’ It was true as far as it went, he thought, and he was reluctant to embark on a more detailed explanation. Family was a complex and difficult topic. As for the rest it was merely coincidence. Thousands of people lived in Sussex.
‘I also have a house in London,’ she went on, ‘although I spend only part of the year there.’
Again he experienced the sensation of buried memories stirring. ‘You stay for the Season?’
‘Yes.’
Duval mentally rebuked himself again. All of fashionable society went to London for that purpose and many of them owned a house there. Her being among their number should come as no surprise. Such a woman would blend effortlessly into the social scene. His work had accustomed him to making connections between seemingly unrelated pieces of information, but now he was seeing coincidence where there wasn’t any. He had to admit that she aroused his curiosity; indeed she had aroused a lot more than that. He had never met anyone quite like her. Being wed to his career, his experience of women was limited, but those he had met were decorative creatures with quiet and biddable natures. Claudine was undoubtedly decorative, but she was also argumentative and difficult, in short the most troublesome female of his acquaintance. It was just as well that his connection with the little baggage was to be of short duration.
‘I should have thought that the Season would have offered plenty in the way of entertainment,’ he said.
‘Up to a point, but after a while it becomes dull and repetitive.’
‘I can see how it might. All the same, it seems a fitter setting for a young woman of means and beauty.’
‘Fit in whose eyes?’
The words were quietly spoken but, once again, he heard the challenge beneath. It prompted him to play devil’s advocate.
‘Your husband’s perhaps?’
‘His opinion is of no interest. He forfeited all right to express any views on the subject long since.’
‘The law would say otherwise.’
‘The law can say what it likes,’ she replied. ‘I will never let any man treat me as a chattel again.’
Duval was intrigued. The passion he had just glimpsed was not only genuine, it ran deep.
‘He hurt you badly, didn’t he?’
‘It hurt at first, but, as time went on, less and less. Now I scarcely think of him at all.’ Claudine summoned a smile and changed the subject. ‘Will you stay in London awhile when we reach England?’
‘For a while I imagine.’
‘Will you visit your family?’
‘I would not be welcome.’
She glanced up at him. ‘Time can change things.’
‘It can also widen the gulf.’ He sighed. ‘I will not pretend that my conduct has been blameless; far from it. Perhaps if I had gone back before it might have been possible to heal the breach. Now … I doubt it.’
‘May I ask how long you have been absent?’
‘Eight years.’
‘Oh.’ She paused. ‘That is a long time.’ If anyone should know about that it was she.
‘Too long.’
‘Still, it’s said that blood is thicker than water.’
‘You think so?’
She smiled wryly. ‘Well, the prodigal son was welcomed back, wasn’t he?’
‘The prodigal son perhaps; not the prodigal husband.’
Claudine froze, rendered temporarily speechless as her mind struggled to assimilate what he had just said. What followed was a flood of conflicting emotions.
‘I see.’ She was surprised to discover how steady her voice sounded.
He had not missed her initial response. ‘The situation is not as it may first appear. My wife and I have long been estranged.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it.’
‘Our marriage was arranged by our respective families and neither of us had any say in the matter. It was a disaster from the outset. As a result we live quite separate lives.’
She drew in a deep breath, trying to gather her scattered wits. She had made assumptions about this man that had no foundation in anything, except perhaps wishful thinking. It shouldn’t have hurt but it did.
‘And so you are free to amuse yourself elsewhere,’ she replied. ‘That must be convenient.’
His brows drew together. ‘My career has taken the place of marriage and has been a most demanding mistress. Even if I’d felt so inclined, I have had little time to amuse myself elsewhere, and certainly would not do so with you.’
‘Just how gullible do you think I am, Duval?’
‘What happened in Paris was unavoidable, in the circumstances.’
‘What happened was indefensible, in the circumstances.’
His gaze locked with hers. ‘I’m not going to pretend I didn’t want you, Claudine. What red-blooded man would not?’ He made a vague gesture with his hand. ‘Nevertheless, I never intended things to go so far. It’s just that I got somewhat carried away by your charms. If you were offended then I apologise.’
There were so many things she could have said in reply, but none of them would have sounded in the least convincing. It horrified her now to think how close she had come to disaster with this man; a man who clearly regarded her as a whore. Gathering every last shred of self-control she faced him.
‘The situation that occurred in Paris was unfortunate. I wish it had never happened, but the past cannot be changed. All I want is to forget it.’
He winced inwardly. ‘In that case I will do nothing that might cause you to remember.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you.’
He made no reply but turned away towards the window instead. It was an unstudied gesture but it unwittingly presented