Page 12 of Master Wolf
He raised a brow, amused. “Thank you.”
She nodded graciously. “You’re welcome. Madame and Monsieur Niven met three years ago in Italy—Madame had vowed never to wed again after the death of her first husband, Signor Giordano, but the moment she saw the extremely handsome Monsieur Niven she developedune grand passion.As he did for her. He violently begged her to marry him. At first she said no, but when he threatened to kill himself, she agreed to break her vow to Giordano.”
Drew’s lips twitched. “That sounds—very dramatic.”
“The marriage is… stormy”—she grinned at him—“at least on Madame’s part. Madame Niven is a beautiful harpy, given to passionate tantrums at inopportune moments.”
“That will be entertaining, I’m sure,” Drew murmured. “And a useful distraction, from time to time.”
“Quite so,” Marguerite confirmed. “Francis and I frequently use it as a device. In my experience men are strongly disposed both to underestimate women and to accept it when they behave irrationally. Consequently, even afterwards, when they know something has gone awry, they rarely question the genuineness of how they saw me behave.”
Drew eyed her curiously. She was smiling, but there was a touch of bitterness in her tone.
“Speaking of Francis,” he said, “Why is he not playing the part of your loving husband?”
“Unfortunately, Francis visited Lindsay in Edinburgh last year and is known to a number of people in the city as a married gentleman from Lancashire. He remains in Paris for now.” She sent him a speaking look. “He is monitoring Duncan’s whereabouts. If it appears that Duncan is heading back to Scotland, Francis will leave immediately to bring us the news.”
Well, that explained why Drew was being roped into this particular mission. It was not the sort of thing Marguerite usually asked of him.
“It sounds rather complicated,” Drew said. “All the playacting, I mean.”
Marguerite shrugged. “Do not worry. Francis and I do this sort of thing all the time. Just do as I say and all will be well. For the most part, your job will be to appear to be the devoted husband, indulging your spoiled wife’s every whim. You can do that, yes?”
“I think I can act the part of your faithful slave,” Drew said. “They’ll take one look at you and understand perfectly well why a man would pledge his every waking moment to fulfilling your whims.”
Marguerite stuck out her tongue at him. “Stop that now. I know you do not find me beautiful.”
“Of course I do,” Drew protested. “I may not want to bed you but that doesn’t mean I don’t find you exquisite to look at. If I found a painting that did you justice, I’d certainly hang you on my wall and I can’t say fairer than that.”
She laughed. “Are you calling me a work of art?”
He blushed a little at being teased, giving a careless shrug to hide his embarrassment. “You know you’re a goddess,” he mumbled.
Oddly, her laughter died and she looked suddenly sad. “A goddess, am I?”
He didn’t know what to say then, how to make her happy again. All he had to offer was the truth and he gave it to her, unflinchingly. “You are incomparable, Marguerite. Don’t pretend you don’t know it.”
“No,” she said. “I know what I am.” Then she turned her head to gaze out of the carriage window at the urchins and pedlars thronging the streets.
And after a moment, Drew did the same.
Chapter Four
They travelled surprisingly well together.
Drew had not spent much time alone with Marguerite before. On the few occasions he had, the experience had involved being shown into her presence, subjected to a silent penetrating gaze for several minutes while she seemed to read his mind, then being closely questioned before she concluded the interview with a brief, stern lecture regarding his shortcomings. In particular, his solitary ways and avoidance of Lindsay.
Not on this journey though. He spent the first two days perpetually on edge, waiting for her to turn that familiar forbidding stare on him, but it never came. In fact, she made no mention of Lindsay at all, and in the end it was Drew who, one night as they dined in the best parlour of the inn they were staying in, finally broke the silence on the matter.
“Does he know I’m coming?”
Marguerite, who had been devouring a hearty portion of beef and potato pie with peculiarly elegant gusto, set down her cutlery and met his eyes. “Does who know?”
Drew suppressed an impatient sigh. She knew very well of whom he was speaking.
“Lindsay.”
Marguerite leaned back in her chair, and for several moments she was silent, giving Drew ample time to notice how hard his heart was thudding in his chest.