Harlequin Presents January 2015 Box Set 3 of 4(176)

The table in the centre of the hall was now laden with food and lit by candelabra. In a corner, a group of local musicians were quietly tuning up, and two girls from the village, resplendent in brief dark skirts with crisp white shirts and aprons were waiting to serve drinks.

Gaston, checking that all was ready, gave her his warm, shy smile and told her that the Baron and Monsieur Andre were in the salon.

The door was ajar and as Ginny paused to smooth her skirt and take a deep breath, she heard the Baron say, ‘You expect me to be pleased? To accept this girl as your wife, when I hoped that for you, mon fils, it would be a very different marriage.’

And Andre’s reply, ‘Papa, it is the best I can hope for. And I have only myself to blame.’

For one numb, stricken moment, Ginny stood motionless. Her overwhelming temptation was to retreat to her room, pack her things and disappear into the night.

But that would be the coward’s way out, as well as disrupting an important night for the Château Terauze, when Andre went in search of her, as he undoubtedly would.

Besides, she told herself, she already knew and accepted how things were and it would be sheer hypocrisy to pretend otherwise and throw any kind of wobbly, so she pushed the door wide and walked in, her head held high and her smile firmly pinned in place.

They both turned to look at her, but the Baron was the first to speak. ‘Ravissante,’ he declared, forcing a smile. ‘Is that not so, Andre?’

There was the briefest silence, and she saw Andre’s mouth twist almost wryly. He said quietly, ‘Tu as raison, mon père. You are—very lovely, Virginie.’

She murmured an awkward word of thanks and turned away, feeling the colour rise in her face.

After all, she thought, what else could he say?

It was marginally easier when people began to arrive, and all she had to do was stand between Andre and his father, smiling and saying ‘Bonsoir,’ as one introduction succeeded another in quick succession.

I hope I don’t have to answer questions later on who I’ve met tonight, she thought, as the faces began to merge into a blur.

When the last guests had arrived, she managed to detach herself from Andre, enmeshed in a discussion with other vignerons, and find a quiet corner in which to draw breath.

But, almost at once, she found herself accosted by Monique Chaloux in dark green brocade.

‘One would hardly recognise you, mademoiselle. What a difference expensive clothes can make.’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Ginny returned coolly. ‘I can’t afford such pleasures.’

Mademoiselle’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yet you are wearing a Louise Vernier tonight. A present from Monsieur Andre, perhaps, to pay you for whatever services you have provided, before he sends you on your way?’ She tittered. ‘He has been generous, so you cannot be as dull as you seem in bed.’

‘How dare you?’ Ginny said, her voice shaking. ‘I paid for this dress myself.’

‘You have two thousand euros to squander? Permit me to doubt it.’

‘Two thousand?’ Ginny stared at her. ‘You’re being ridiculous. It cost less than two hundred.’

‘No,’ Monique said cuttingly. ‘If you believe that, you are the fool, mademoiselle. But Monsieur Andre will soon tire of you, so enjoy your good fortune while you may.’

She moved away, leaving Ginny trembling from a mix of emotions in which anger predominated.

When Andre appeared at her side, she said furiously, ‘Did you really pay for this dress?’

His brows lifted. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I wondered why notre chère Monique had sought you out. How good of her to tell you.’

‘Then it’s true.’ She took a deep breath. ‘How could I have been stupid enough to think I could afford even a handkerchief in that shop?’ She glared up at him. ‘For two pins, I’d take the dress off and throw it at you.’

‘Then it is fortunate I do not have two pins,’ he returned, the faint amusement in his voice doing nothing to placate her. ‘At least not at this moment because we have an announcement to make.’ He took her hand and led her through the laughter and talk of the party to the little rostrum built to accommodate the band.

‘Messieurs et mesdames.’ At the sound of his voice a hush fell on the room. ‘You joined us tonight to remember the anniversary of the Baron Emile, but I have another cause to celebrate. To my great joy, Mademoiselle Mason—Virginie—has consented to be my wife. I present—the future Baronne de Terauze.’

There was a concerted gasp, then applause rang out as the Baron stepped forward, beaming, and proffered a flat velvet case. Inside, shimmering with crimson fire, lay the ruby necklace from the portrait in the salon, and the guests clapped and cheered as Andre fastened the jewels round Ginny’s throat, before bending to kiss her hand and her lips.