Forbidden Susan Johnson (english love story books txt) 📖

the green drawing room, he would have the Duc's card brought up to Madame's quarters.

Motioning to a footman standing at attention near his shoulder, the butler said, "Charbeau, take His Grace's card upstairs." Bourges's man had no choice but to obey. Bringing another footman over with a wave of his hand, the new steward of Isabelle's home directed, "Picard, show Monsieur le Duc to the green drawing room."

Handing his gloves to the butler, Etienne followed the footman down the corridor he'd walked through a thousand times in the past, a small stab of nostalgia gripping him as the familiar interior reminded him of happier days, of his children, and his childhood.

As they approached the drawing-room doors, the young footman turned, smiled, and said, "She won't see you, Your Grace."

"She won't?" While the possibility wasn't entirely unexpected, this young man plainly telling him was.

"Orders, sir. You're not allowed upstairs."

"The Duchesse is there now?"

The footman nodded. "You didn't hear it from me, sir."

"You're Douet's grandson, aren't you?" Etienne recognized the tall broad-shouldered frame and the shock of flaxen hair. Douet's family had come originally from one of his grandfather's estates in Normandy and their size and coloring traced back to some long-ago Viking ancestor.

"Yes, sir, I have to leave, sir. Montrose will come looking for me."

"Why didn't you come with your father when he left the Duchesse's employ?"

"Well, sir, the morning parlor maid was newly hired and would be staying… so…"

"So you stayed," the Duc said with a smile. "You're both welcome in my household, should you wish… and thank you for your information."

"Thank you, sir. Marguerite would be happy to be away… the Duchesse frightens her, Your Grace."

"Being your things and Marguerite, too, to your father. You know the way?"

"Oh, yes, sir, Your Grace, sir," the young man stammered, backing away and bowing. "Thank you, sir, Your Grace."

If Isabelle wouldn't receive him, he'd have to find his way to her though less formal channels, the Duc thought, deciding to take the conservatory stairway to avoid Montrose.

The conservatory dominated the eastern courtyard, the three-story glass structure housing a collection of exotic trees and plants brought home by generations of travel-prone de Vecs. Fragrant flowering plants and shrubbery perfumed the entire east wing of the hotel, the open stairway added by a de Vec enamored of the tropical climes he'd visited in his youth.

The staircase was rarely used, for its distance from the family and public rooms made it inconvenient. So Etienne paused on the second-floor landing for a brief time to admire the enclosed garden he'd nurtured through his years as master of this house. He drew in the smell of damp earth, of lily and jasmine and island grasses, inundated suddenly by a sense of melancholy as the familiar smells assailed him.

He had not perhaps a profound veneration for his ancestors—since his father's role had been so detached even on the rare occasions he was in residence, and his mother's friendship had come to him in his adulthood—but there was a certain sense of continuity in this beautiful old building. If his attachments weren't based on familial emotions, they were devoted to a fidelity of place; he had spent his entire adult life caring for the de Vec estates, improving them, expanding them, restoring those his father had neglected. Like this hotel.

With a conscious effort he shook away the nostalgia, reminding himself no amount of satisfaction in estate management compared with the deep happiness he'd found with Daisy. And if he must sacrifice in his lifetime all the de Vec monuments to the past, he would.

Leaving the landing, he strode down the carpeted hallway toward those rooms Isabelle occupied. It was quiet this time of day between drowsy afternoon and teatime, the rain outside casting the interior into an orchid shade. He must hurry, he realized, increasing his stride, for his time was limited to that interval between his card being brought up and returned to the majordomo downstairs. He then would be sought out in the drawing room to be given his refusal.

There was a new gold screen inside Isabelle's reception-room door, and as Etienne crossed the threshold into the room, he saw through the crack between two of its folds, his wife and the young blond priest from the Bonnard show sitting side by side on the sofa by the fire. He hesitated for a second with the knob still in his hand, mesmerized by the scene, and then he realized that the young priest was gazing devouringly into Isabelle's eyes and holding her hands in both of his.

The carpet was so thick and the latch so well oiled his entrance hadn't made a sound.

In a rich throaty tone he'd never heard before, Isabelle caressingly said, "Roger, darling, you understand me so well."

"It's always special when it's raining, isn't it, heart of mine… since that first afternoon…"

"… at Charles's reception."

Lifting her hands, he slipped them inside the opened front of his cassock, and Etienne heard the pounding of his own heart in his ears as Isabelle slipped the black garment from the young man's shoulders.

Etienne stealthily closed the door behind him, thinking belatedly, how would Charbeau know he was inside? But if all transpired in its normal course as appeared likely from the events taking place before his eyes, in a few minutes more, he'd make his presence known, open the door, ring for the servants, and then sit down on one of Isabelle's cushioned rococo fauteuils and calmly wait until a witness appeared.

"Will you make me do penance for this sin, Roger, darling?" Isabelle whispered. "I know lust is sinful. What penance will you have me do?" She had stripped his cassock away and he wore only black silk underwear, monogrammed with his family crest at his thigh. He had not yet apparently, the Duc dryly observed, cast off all the luxuries of the world. Or its decadence… he reflected, as Isabelle's small hands stroked the curve of the youthful clergyman's shoulders.

"First you must undress for me, my