The Right Bride?. Jessica Steele
been pacing the rug since we left, she thought with a sigh.
Remy must have sensed the same thing, because he said, with a touch of dryness, ‘As you see, I have returned her safely, madame.’
She picked up his tone. ‘Mon cher Remy, I never doubted you for an instant.’ She paused. ‘May I offer you some coffee before you depart?’
‘Merci, madame, but I think I must get back to Trehel. I have some matters to discuss with the builders.’ He made her a small polite bow, then turned to Allie, his face smooth, but little devils glinting in his eyes. ‘Au revoir, Alys. I hope you will permit me to call on you again?’
She looked down at her feet. ‘Why, yes. Thank you. If you wish. That would be—very nice,’ she added wildly.
‘Then I too shall look forward to it.’ There was only the slightest tremor in his voice, but the wickedly prim face he pulled at her as he walked towards the Jeep was almost her undoing.
As he reached it, another vehicle—a blue pick-up—suddenly pulled in behind him with a crackling swirl of gravel. The driver’s door was flung wide, and a girl jumped down.
She was small, with silver-blonde hair and a pretty heartshaped face, all huge brown eyes, and a sexy mouth painted bright pink, with her finger and toenails enamelled to match.
She possessed a shapely figure bordering on the frankly voluptuous, set off by tight white trousers and a scoop-necked top in a stinging shade of violet. And she was smiling widely as she ran across to Remy and kissed him on both cheeks, standing charmingly on tiptoe in order to do so.
‘Chéri.’ She had a soft, throaty voice. ‘I thought I recognised your Jeep. But why are you here?’ She turned to Madelon. ‘Please tell me you are not ill, ma chère madame.’
‘Not in the least,’ said Tante briskly. ‘Dr de Brizat has been kind enough to show my great-niece from England something of the surrounding area. That is all.’
‘You, Remy? Turned tour guide?’ The newcomer gurgled with laughter. ‘Mon Dieu, the world will end tomorrow. And I thought your every moment outside work was spent either with Roland or on the renovations at Trehel.’
‘Not every moment,’ Remy returned coolly. ‘I allow myself some leisure—from time to time.’
Her eyes widened extravagantly in a way that Allie decided must have taken hours of practice. ‘Then your friends can hope to see more of you, maybe? What a pleasure that will be.’
She turned to Allie, her gaze flickering over her. A glance that assessed and dismissed. ‘So—an English visitor.’ She made it sound as if the other girl had escaped from a zoo. ‘Then we must all do what we can to ensure that you enjoy your vacation—Mademoiselle...?’ She paused questioningly.
‘Alys,’ Remy supplied quietly. ‘Alys Colville.’
‘Enchantée. And I am Solange Geran.’ The smile flashed again, but the brown eyes were watchful. ‘I am sure we shall become friends. You intend to remain for a long time with madame, I hope.’
Under the gush, the message reached Allie loud and clear.
She considers me no contest, she thought. But, all the same, she’d be delighted to hear that I’m leaving tomorrow.
She shrugged gracefully. ‘My plans are—fluid at the moment.’
‘But mine, unfortunately, are not,’ Remy said briskly. ‘So, forgive me, but I must go.’ As he swung himself into the Jeep he looked briefly across at Allie, his lips miming a swift kiss before driving away.
‘Alors, I must find my purse,’ Madelon Colville said as the noise of the engine faded. ‘I presume you have brought the eggs, Solange?’
Solange was looking at the road, her lower lip held in her teeth, but when she turned back she was dimpling. ‘But of course. Une douzaine, madame, comme d’habitude.’
‘Then bring them inside, if you will,’ Tante directed. ‘Come, Alys, and help me with the coffee.
‘Solange’s parents bought the farm from me,’ she added in an undertone as she led the way into the house. ‘But when her late father’s health began to fail she took a government grant and began converting the barns and outbuildings into gîtes, which have been a great success. The egg business is now merely a sideline, but at least it enables her to get away from Ravac.’
She pursed her lips. ‘Since she was widowed, Madame Geran has become something of a trial, I understand.’
Allie understood too. We could almost start a company, she thought. Difficult Widows R Us.
She said shortly, ‘Solange has my sympathy.’
Tante gave her an ironic look. ‘I doubt, mon enfant, that she would welcome it. Do you?’
It was an awkward little interlude. Solange arrived with the eggs, and accepted her cup of coffee with pretty thanks. Sitting at the table, listening to her chat away to Tante, Allie was aware that she was being covertly studied, and with no friendly eye.
And until a short while ago, mademoiselle, I didn’t know you existed either, she told the other girl silently.
Solange was amusing about the problems of running gîtes, especially Allie noted, where English guests were concerned. Their eccentricities, messy habits, and petty meannesses were dwelt on with particular relish. But her other main topic was Trehel, and the barn there that Remy was converting into a house for his own occupation.
‘It has taken so long, he is almost in despair,’ she confided. She sighed portentously. ‘But he would employ Gaston Levecq, in spite of all our warnings.’
‘The Levecqs lost their youngest child to meningitis,’ said Tante. ‘And madame suffered terribly with depression afterwards. Remy may have felt Gaston needed the distraction of a new project. And he is a good workman.’
‘Oh, I agree that it is going to be beautiful. All the top floor is finished now, and the view from the main bedroom is formidable.’ Solange played coyly with the handle of her coffee cup. ‘Remy has asked me to help with the décor, you understand?’
She drank the remains of her coffee and rose. ‘And now I must deliver the rest of the eggs,’ she announced brightly. ‘People will be wondering where I am.’
After she left, there was silence. Then Allie said, her smile forced, ‘I think I’ve just been warned off her territory.’
Tante’s voice was troubled. ‘Mon enfant—when you have gone back to your own life, she will still be here, and Remy too. Are you being quite fair?’
Allie bent her head. ‘Tante—please don’t ask me not to see him again, because I don’t think that’s possible.’
Madelon Colville gave a heavy sigh. ‘Mon Dieu,’ she said, half to herself. ‘Has it already gone so far and so fast?’
Colour rose in Allie’s face. ‘No,’ she protested. ‘Nothing’s—happened.’
Her great-aunt’s brows lifted. ‘Nothing? You mean, en effet, that you have not yet given yourself to him?’ Her little shrug was a masterpiece of Gallic cynicism. ‘Well, it is only a matter of time. Every word that was spoken—every look—proclaimed that.’
‘But we didn’t…’
‘Precisely.’ Madame Colville nodded grimly. ‘Alys—I say this only from love. It might be better for you to go now. Leave Brittany before real damage is done.’
Allie looked at her across the table, sudden tears hanging from her lashes. She said, ‘I don’t think I can.’ And her voice broke.
CHAPTER SIX
ALLIE