Harlequin Presents January 2015 Box Set 3 of 4(172)

His mouth twisted. ‘It has been mentioned. But, like most men, it has not been a priority for me so far.’

She took a deep, steadying breath. ‘And because we don’t—love each other.’

‘Love?’ Andre repeated the word musingly, as if he had never heard it before. ‘When did that become part of our bargain?’

Bargain, she repeated silently. Deal—trade-off—call it what she might, how could she ever have thought it would be enough? Or, from that first moment, had she been secretly hoping for so much more?

Oh, you idiot, she thought. You pathetic little fool.

She swallowed. ‘You—you’re right. It didn’t. I expressed myself badly, so I’ll try again. I’m not your type, and you’re certainly not mine.’

The dark brows lifted. ‘So, what is your type? The estimable Monsieur Welburn?’

‘If that’s what you want to think.’ She tried to sound nonchalant. ‘What I really mean is—I don’t want you.’

‘Vraiment?’ His tone expressed polite interest. ‘And yet we both know that if Gaston had not interrupted us, we would have spent the night here in that bed and you would have woken in my arms this morning.’

She made herself shrug. ‘As I said—brandy and emotion. A lethal combination, never to be repeated.’

I should forget about teaching, and become an actress, she thought painfully. I could almost convince myself.

‘Something I shall try to remember while you remain with us.’ Andre glanced at his watch and got to his feet. ‘It is time for dinner,’ he said, adding courteously, ‘Papa hopes you will join us.’ His brief smile did not reach his eyes. ‘I think he wishes to talk about computers.’

She bit her lip. ‘I hope you don’t think I’ve been interfering.’

‘Au contraire. It was Maman who insisted that the domaine must enter the computer age.’ He shook his head ruefully. ‘Since we lost her, I am aware that matters have been allowed to slide. But you seem to have persuaded him that we must move with the times. Permit me to thank you.’ He added quietly, ‘I hope when you return to England you will not feel your time here has been completely wasted.’

As she watched him go, it occurred to her that they’d just taken the first step in the process of separation. Not a giant stride by any means, but a beginning.

But, she reminded herself, her throat tightening, it was also very clearly an ending.

The Baron was in an ebullient mood over the vegetable soup, the wonderfully garlicky roast lamb and the chocolate mousse. He had already, he said, contacted a computer firm in Dijon, and a representative would be visiting them to make his recommendations the following day.

‘He believes that we should have what he calls a website,’ he added, helping himself to cheese. ‘You approve, mademoiselle?’

She said quickly, ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea.’ As well as long overdue, she thought grimly, wondering how Mademoiselle Chaloux could have allowed matters to slip in this way.

‘Ah, but I have not finished,’ he said, and turned to Andre. ‘Mon fils, I have decided that this year we shall again celebrate the birthday of Baron Emile.’

Andre’s brows lifted. ‘Is it not a little late for that? We have less than a month to prepare.’

The Baron waved a hand. ‘I have spoken with Gaston and Clothilde and they agree with me that his memory has been neglected for too long, and that all will go well.’ He smiled at Ginny. ‘Mademoiselle Mason will see the Château Terauze en fête and her presence will add grace to an already happy occasion.

‘Tomorrow, I shall make a list of guests to be invited,’ the Baron went on. ‘And we must order cards to be printed. I remember my dear one always used the same company.’ He nodded. ‘I shall look in my desk for the name,’ he announced and went off to do so, taking his coffee with him.

When they were alone, Andre said quietly, ‘You know what I am going to ask, Virginie. I have not seen him so animated for a long time, and hope you can find it in your heart to indulge him by staying until the party.’ He paused. ‘And, although this may be no incentive, you will also have my gratitude.’

Gratitude, she thought. Will that stop me feeling as if I’m dying inside?

She stared down at the table. ‘Then it seems I have little choice.’

She did not hear him leave the room, and it was only when she eventually looked up that she realised she was alone.

* * *

Only one more day, Ginny told herself as she walked back from the village. Then the most difficult three weeks of her life would be over and done with.