“That’s not true.”
“It is true, damn you! The scullery maid knows more about your own wife’s activities than you do.” She took a moment to gather her calm. “What are you doing home at this hour, anyway?”
He shrugged. “Actually, at the last minute André asked us to join him and his wife for dinner tonight. I came by to see if you wanted to go.”
“Oh, that would be lovely,” she mocked with an extravagantly derisive gesture. “We must keep up appearances, n’est-ce pas? Another evening of empty pretense.”
“It also appears that I arrived in the nick of time,” he added with contempt. “In fact, a few more minutes and I’m sure you would have been packed and out the door with your darling M’sieur Broussard.”
His baiting succeeded in bringing ire to her eyes. “Julian, that’s not true. Philippe only came by to see if I’m happy.”
“And are you happy, chère?” he asked ironically.
“We both damned well know that I’m not!”
“Then why didn’t you choose to escape with your chivalrous knight while you had the chance?”
“Perhaps because I choose not to run from the commitments of our marriage.”
“What do you mean by that comment?” he demanded.
Her words spilled out with cutting acrimony. “I mean that you’re one to chide me for receiving Philippe, when I know you’re spending your every free moment in Justine Begué’s bed.”
“Mercy, that’s a lie,” he ground out, taking a menacing step toward her.
“It’s true!” she cried, appalled to feel a rush of tears. “I know you’re sleeping with her! You’re never home! Why don’t you just admit it?”
“What kind of man do you think I am, anyway?” he shouted back.
She bit back a sob. “I have no idea what kind of man you are.”
They glared at each other in the charged silence. Each privately knew Mercy had just cruelly referred to their tormented past. She thought of trying to retract her hateful words, but soon realized that there was nothing she could say that could possibly improve things between them right now.
With a curse, Julian ground out his cheroot in an ashtray. A vein jumped in his temple. “Perhaps if your opinion of me is so low, then I should live up to your expectations.”
He stormed out of the room, slamming the door explosively behind him.
***
Mercy stared after him, trembling. Then she burst into a torrent of angry tears and collapsed onto the settee. She was so caught up in her own wounded feelings that she didn’t see Henrí steal up to the archway, where he stood watching her with a solemn frown . . .
Henrí had overheard the argument between maître and madame, just as he had overheard other arguments of late. He felt deeply troubled by the impasse in his master’s marriage. His sympathies were not really with madame, for maître had suffered much for her over the years, and the girl seemed cruelly unaware of his many sacrifices.
It was about time that someone set the young woman straight, he mused grimly.
Chapter Twenty-three
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That night, Julian Devereux paced Justine Begué’s parlor. She sat on the settee opposite him, her eyes filled with compassion.
Following the argument with Mercy, Julian had felt desperate for a friend to confide in, and Justine was truly the best friend he had ever known.
He had already informed her of the continuing impasse in his marriage. Now, as he continued to pummel the rug with lean, economical strides, he gestured passionately and supplied additional details.
“The girl has made it clear that she has no respect for this marriage—or my feelings. For instance, this very afternoon I caught her with her former fiancé, Philippe Broussard.”
Justine’s eyes widened. “Where did you catch them?”
“In the parlor.”
Justine laughed and waved him off. “Oh, Julian! For a moment I thought they were . . .” She paused to smile at him. “The two of them were engaged before, n’est-ce pas? Would it not be natural for M’sieur Broussard to come calling to check on Mercy’s welfare?”
Julian harrumphed loudly. “That’s precisely what my wife claimed. But I know better.”
“Oh?”
With an explosive sigh, Julian collapsed into a chair. He raked a hand through his hair. “I overheard them talking, right before I came in. Evidently, Broussard is engaged again. However, he most generously offered to call off his betrothal if only Mercy will seek an annulment from me.”
Justine gasped. “Oh, Julian. You must have felt eaten up with jealousy.”
He shot her a smoldering look, then sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”
“And what did Mercy say to the young man?”
Julian’s eyes glittered with a chilling light. “She told him to forget about her and marry his fiancée. But she spoke with little conviction, I must say.”
“Still, she said what she should have said.”
He laughed ironically. “Ah, yes, I’ve seen to it that she has no real options left in our marriage.”
Justine frowned. “Being aware of Mercy’s very spirited nature, I would not assume that you could force her to stay in the marriage against her will.”
He waved a hand angrily. “She’s heartless. She’s never cared for me.”
“Oh, Julian, I know for a fact that just the opposite is true.” When he glanced sharply at her, she explained, “She came to see me, you know.”
Julian’s features blanched. “She did? Oh, mon Dieu! I hope she didn’t cause you any distress, or—”
Justine reached out to pat his hand. “Non.”
Still, Julian was grinding his teeth. “She had no right to—”
“Julian, she did have a right,” Justine cut in gently but firmly. “Of course she was curious about me and Arnaud. You cannot blame her for that.”
“I suppose I can’t.” His fingers dug into the upholstered arm of his chair. “What happened? Did she treat you well?”
“Your young wife is polite and shrewd—but also very detached, very cool.” An expression of pleasure curved Justine’s full lips. “Except when Arnaud was in the room. She seemed to fall completely in love with your son.”
Unwittingly, he smiled. “Did she?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Why did she come? I mean, I’m assuming she told you?”
“She did.” Justine slanted Julian a wry look. “Mercy came, of course, to determine whether or not you and I are still sleeping together. I tried my best to reassure her that we’re not, but I don’t think she believed me.”
“Damn!” Julian was on his feet, pacing again.
Justine’s features creased with distress. “Julian, I must implore you not to blame Mercy for what she did. If I had been in her shoes, I would have done exactly the same thing.”
“Would you have?”
“Think of how jealous, how hurt, she must feel.”
He scowled, shoving his hands deeply into his pockets. “Perhaps so. But what can I do?”
“I’ve told you several times before that it was wrong of you to keep my existence, and Arnaud’s, from her until after the marriage. Apologize to her.”
He turned to face her, gesturing in supreme frustration. “I already have. It didn’t work.”
“Then try again. She’s a woman, Julian, and she feels hurt and threatened—especially by the fact that you have a child by me. She needs to be wooed and reassured. And frankly, the best thing you can do for Mercy right now is to give her a baby.”
That comment halted Julian in mid-stride. “A baby?” he repeated in a cracking voice.
“You should have seen the way she stared at Arnaud. There was wonder in her eyes, but also a deep hunger. I know she very much wants a child with you.”
He blinked at her, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I think you’re mistaken.”
“No, I’m not. Any woman knows that look in another woman’s eyes.”
Julian could only shake his head incredulously. “Even assuming that this is true, can you honestly tell me you don’t at all feel threatened by it?”
Justine lifted her chin proudly. “If you mean will I feel threatened when you have a child with Mercy, the answer is no. I have everything I need—my son and your friendship. Furthermore, I know that when you do have children with Mercy, Arnaud will still remain very special to you.”
“Indeed he will,” Julian concurred vehemently.
“Then what is to stop you from mending things with your wife?”
With an ironic laugh, Julian returned to his chair. “Justine, I’m beginning to think that you’re an incurable romantic. You seem to believe that my young wife is some saintly, devoted creature who wants nothing more than to serve my needs and bear my children, and that all our troubles have been merely some petty, overblown misunderstanding. ” His bitter gaze met hers. “The truth is, Mercy would like nothing more than to hang my hide from the Place d’Armes. What would you say if I told you that she informed me recently that only the physical aspect of our marriage pleases her?”
“Oh, Julian!” Justine’s golden eyes shone with deep empathy. “If she said that, then it was only her hurt talking. You’re both so caught up in your wounded pride. But try to set aside your own anger and pain. You’ll never make your marriage work if you shut her out.”