Forbidden Susan Johnson (english love story books txt) 📖

"I'm leaving, Etienne," his wife pleasantly said. "I hope your game was exhilarating." All cool, pale placidity, the Duchesse de Vec ignored her husband's harsh tone.

Her mission must have been successful, he decided, with her smugness so palpable.

Daisy had come to a halt just short of him, for he was blocking her exit from the room.

"Don't believe her," he said, seeing the wounded look in Daisy's dark eyes. Whatever Isabelle had said could be explained; whatever form of slander had brought his wife here when she knew he was on the polo fields, apparently wouldn't withstand his presence in the conversation.

"It's all right, Etienne… really," Daisy softly replied. "She didn't tell me anything I didn't already know." Daisy tried to smile but found she couldn't. "I'd like to get… out of this room," she added in a hushed undertone, "… if you'd move."

He moved swiftly. "I'm sorry you had to deal with—"

"Your wife?" Daisy quietly offered, her voice touched with sarcasm.

There was no excuse, no palatable answer. "I'm sorry," he repeated, the scent of her familiar and sweet, wild rose freshness he'd recognize blindfolded.

She didn't answer but brushed by him and walked away, her fragrance lingering in his nostrils.

"Was it something I said?" Isabelle sardonically inquired, picking up the wide-brimmed hat she'd discarded on a small settee, as though she had the right to make herself at home.

"If there's any justice in this world, Isabelle," the Duc replied with a brusque kind of weariness, "you'll drown in your own poison someday."

"If there's any justice in this world, Etienne, darling, you'll remember whom you're married to," she sharply replied. "And if you have trouble remembering, several years in court might serve to remind you!"

"I'm divorcing you, if it takes my entire lifetime. I hope that's clear."

Since Charles had delivered into her hands yesterday the outstanding notes of each of the magistrates likely to be involved in the legal proceedings, Isabelle spoke from a position of strength. "It will, darling. I hope that's clear."

"Look," Etienne said, beginning to strip his gloves from his hands, "regardless of the divorce proceedings… and I concede, it may be a protracted affair"—his voice took on an authority�"Daisy is to be preserved from your venom. Understood?" He would not compromise in his protection of her.

An unnatural light appeared in Isabelle's eyes.

"As is Hector," he added, his hands arrested momentarily. "Neither point is negotiable. I hope that's perfectly plain. I'll come for you, Isabelle, if you harm either one of them." He didn't worry about Justin or Jolie; familiar with their mother, they could handle themselves. His gaze held his wife's for several taut moments.

"We'll see," she murmured, her smile chilling.

"No, we won't," he harshly retorted, stripping his fingers fully free of his gloves and tossing them aside. "There'll be goddamned war, Isabelle, if you come within fifty meters of either one of them again." He didn't trust her; she had a vicious streak he knew was dangerous.

"My, my, we're defensive," she cooed.

"Always a prudent position to assume in your presence."

"Keep it in mind," she murmured.

"Don't worry, Isabelle. After twenty years, it's automatic with me anytime you get within speaking distance."

"Your droll sense of humor was always amusing."

"I live to amuse you," he ironically replied. "But take my warning to heart. No closer than fifty meters… ever."

"I tremble, darling," she said with a mocking smile.

What made him wary was the very real knowledge her mockery was genuine. It was pointless, he decided in disgust, to listen—pointless and useless. He should know better after all this time. "You can find your way out, I'm sure." Turning abruptly, he left, angry and frustrated. And disheartened at the lengthy ordeal that lay ahead.

He found Daisy on the balcony outside his bedroom, seated on the willow couch where they watched the sunsets. Looking up at him when he stepped through the opened doorway she smiled, a rueful small quirk of her mouth.

"What did she say?" he asked, his voice and expression resigned. The sooner he heard, the sooner he could deal with Isabelle's malice.

"She brought over some lists."

"Lists?"

"Of women's names. Women you've been involved with," Daisy added in response to his enigmatic look. "She wrote them herself… in lavender ink," Daisy went on as if the additional explanation would clear the turmoil from her mind. "They're downstairs."

The Duc left without speaking, returning short moments later without the scented pages.

"Did you recognize the names?" She couldn't help herself, although she'd told herself a dozen times since she'd escaped Isabelle's presence a discussion of the women in Etienne's past was fruitless. What could possibly be accomplished except to add to the bitterness?

Sitting down at the small table, he gazed out on the river for a brief moment wondering how to respond to the misrepresentations on Isabelle's perfumed stationery. "Some of them," he carefully said.

"Some of them?" A woman's affront colored her query despite the particular circumstances in which she should have been pleased the answer hadn't been more inclusive. "Is that a casual disclaimer or did Isabelle become overzealous with her lavender ink?"

The Duc debated for a moment on how honest to be. "I don't remember some of the names, to be perfectly frank."

"Because there have been so many?" Daisy couldn't keep the resentment from her voice.

He didn't answer for some time. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe. Some are fabrications… others—" He shrugged. "I really don't know." His uncertainty was irrelevant to his love for Daisy, he thought, but he wouldn't be able to make her understand that. "I can't erase the last twenty years," he quietly added, "even if I wished to."

"Maybe you don't wish to, you're saying." Her dark eyes were trained on him as though he were lunch for a hungry predator.

"I don't want to make excuses," he very softly said, "but you didn't live my life. And whether you believe it or not, many of those women extended the—invitation."

That she believed.

"Also… Isabelle could have expanded the list for effect." He sighed. "But it doesn't really matter, does it,