The Earl's Untouched Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

a seat? And wine — he must have a glass of wine while he is waiting!' She pushed Heloise through the door, then paused to specify, 'The Chambertin!'

    While Monsieur Bergeron stood gaping at him, Charles strolled over to the table at which Heloise had been sitting and began to idly flick through her sketchbook. It seemed to contain nothing but pictures of animals. Quite strange-looking animals, some of them, in most unrealistic poses. Though one, of a bird in a cage, caught his attention. The bedraggled specimen was chained to its perch. He could feel its misery flowing off the page. He was just wondering what species of bird it was supposed to represent, when something about the tilt of its head, the anguish burning in its black eyes, put him forcibly in mind of Heloise, as she had appeared earlier that day. His eyes followed the chain that bound the miserable-looking creature to its perch, and saw that it culminated in what looked like a golden wedding ring.

    His blood running cold, he flicked back a page, to a scene he had first supposed represented a fanciful scene from a circus. He could now perceive that the creature that was just recognisable as a lion, lying on its back with a besotted grin on its face, was meant to represent himself. The woman who was standing with her foot upon his chest, smiling with smug cruelty, was definitely Felice. He snapped the book shut and turned on Monsieur Bergeron.

    'I trust you have not made the nature of my interest in your elder daughter public?'

    'Alas, my lord,' he shrugged, spreading his hands wide, 'but I did give assurances in certain quarters that a match was imminent.'

    'To your creditors, no doubt?'

    'Debt? Pah — it is nothing!' Monsieur Bergeron spat. 'A man may recover from debt!'

    When Charles raised one disbelieving eyebrow, he explained, 'You English, you do not understand how one must live in France. When power changes hands, those who support the fallen regime must always suffer from the next. To survive, a man must court friends in all camps. He must be sensitive to what is in the wind, and know the precise moment to jump...'

    In short the man was, like Talleyrand, ' un homme girouette ' who was prepared, like a weather vane, to swing in whichever direction the wind blew.

    Somewhat red in the face, Monsieur Bergeron sank onto the sofa which his wife had recently vacated.

    'So,' Charles said slowly, 'promoting an alliance with an English noble, at a time when many Parisians are openly declaring hostility to the English, was an attempt to...?' He quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at the man, encouraging him to explain.

    'To get one of my daughters safely out of the country! The days are coming,' he said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and mopping at his brow, 'when any man or woman might go to the guillotine for the most paltry excuse. I can feel it in the air. Say what you like about Bonaparte, but during the last few years I managed to hold down a responsible government post and make steady advancements, entirely through hard work and capability. But now the Bourbons are back in power, clearly bent on taking revenge on all who have opposed them, that will count for nothing!' he finished resentfully.

    Charles eyed him thoughtfully. Monsieur Bergeron feared he was teetering on the verge of ruin. So he had spread his safety net wide. He had encouraged his pretty daughter to entrap an English earl, who would provide a safe bolthole in a foreign land should things become too hot for his family in France. And he had encouraged the attentions of his plain daughter's only suitor though he was an ardent Bonapartist. Every day Du Mauriac openly drank the health of his exiled emperor in cafes such as the Tabagie de la Comete, with other ex-officers of the Grand Armee. Much as he disliked the man, there was no denying he would make both a powerful ally and a dangerous enemy.

    Finding himself somewhat less out of charity with his prospective father-in-law,