Читать книгу Just For Her - Katherine O' Neal - Страница 10

She retraced her steps back into the house feeling heavy with dread, as if she were climbing into a pit she knew to be full of snakes. She tried to remind herself that she was stronger than when she’d seen him last, when he’d lacerated her with the announcement that he’d just killed her lover—coldly, unfeelingly, ever in control. Taking a malicious pleasure in being the bearer of this news.

Just speak to him calmly and find out what he wants. Don’t let him goad you into losing your temper.

But what of his temper?

Inside, she was greeted by pandemonium. Servants scurried to and fro, carrying suits to be pressed and shoes to be polished, carting trunks up and down the stairs. They bobbed hasty curtseys to her when they saw her, then dashed off with the harried look of subordinates who’d just had the whip cracked over their heads.

It helped to anchor Jules, to solidify her resolve. She wasn’t about to behave like one of DeRohan’s hired help, cowering at the sight of him.

She crossed the reception hall beneath the towering gothic arches and took the stairs up to the second floor of the east wing. There, in the sitting room of the guest apartment, she saw her husband, conferring with Hudson as several maids unpacked the trunks that cluttered the tapestried Louis XVI room.

Dominic DeRohan had always been an imposing man. Well over six feet in height, he was nothing like the aristocrats of her acquaintance: soft, well-mannered, schooled in the art of dance and social graces. She hadn’t actually known him before their marriage, but he owned the Carlton Hotel and was a frequent presence on the Côte, so she’d inevitably caught the snippets of gossip that followed in his wake: How he’d grown up poor in the streets of London, but through ruthless determination, an inexhaustible capacity for work, and an unflinching readiness to bully his competitors, he’d built a business empire from nothing and amassed a fortune that put most of his contemporaries to shame; how he’d been a decorated pilot in the war, gunning down enemy planes with the same pitiless relish with which he destroyed his business rivals; how this combination of war hero and cold-blooded raider made him a source of dark fascination to the women who brazenly solicited invitations to his bed. But Jules knew these two seemingly contradictory aspects of his character were one and the same—fueled by his need to crush anything in his path.

He was dressed as always in a dark suit, even in the heat of the season, but despite the expert tailoring and unmistakable aura of wealth, there was something craggy and rugged and raw about his appearance. He reminded her of a Scottish warrior accustomed to roaming the Highlands who’d stuffed himself into a Saville Row suit and was passing himself off as a gentleman.

When he sensed her presence and turned to look at her, she nearly flinched at the stark look in his fierce eyes. She’d forgotten that intimidating, penetrating stare, how, with a furrow of his heavy brows, he could make even the most hardened negotiator squirm in his seat. She could feel his daunting energy from across the room, a force that allowed him, without seeming to try, to beat people down until they acquiesced to his demands.

He stared at her long enough that she was able to note the changes since she’d seen him last. He was thicker about the middle—the result, no doubt, of too many business dinners, unless his mistresses had been spoiling him in his wife’s absence. The beard and mustache he wore, dark like his hair, were closer cropped than she remembered. But there was no mistaking the possessive cruelty that came to his eyes as he took in her appearance.

He waved an imperious hand at the servants. “Out. All of you,” he ordered.

The maids scampered away as though shot from a cannon. Hudson followed more slowly, but Jules put her hand on his sleeve as he passed, saying in a gentle voice, “It was good of you, Hudson, to offer your assistance to Mr. DeRohan, but in future I should be grateful if you remember that you answer to me.”

Hudson cast a quick glance at DeRohan, who didn’t bother to look at him, then said, “As you wish, Highness,” and left the room.

DeRohan raised a brow and addressed her. “I begin to understand the charms of the South.” His English accent was properly aloof, but the guttural undertones of his voice hinted at the pains he’d taken to banish a rougher form of speech. “It seems it isn’t the sunshine that keeps my wife a fugitive, but a butler much too eye-catching for his own good. Is he even a butler? Or is this merely a clever way of camouflaging your latest paramour?”

Twenty-four hours ago, Jules would have been outraged by such a suggestion. But today she flushed with the knowledge of what she’d done the night before. She must handle him carefully, but not too meekly. If she backed down without demur, he might suspect his accusation was warranted, albeit with another man.

“I’d expect that from someone who sees the worst in human nature. But I won’t have you maligning Hudson with your indecent suppositions.”

“My indecent suppositions have proved only too accurate, as I recall. Why should I suppose otherwise when you so clearly want him for yourself and hasten to defend his honor before even bothering to greet your long-lost husband?”

“You must take my word for it.”

“You’ll forgive me, I’m sure, but the word of an adulterous wife is hardly meritable proof.”

“Very well,” she sighed, hating to betray Hudson’s confidence, but badly needing to derail DeRohan from this train of thought. “If you must know, Hudson would be incapable of living up to your allegations. He was injured in the war.”

“How convenient for him.”

She felt her temper flare. He was the only person she’d ever known who could anger her as he did. She’d been brought up to be seen and not heard, to hold her tongue even when she disagreed, to be pleasing and gracious and avoid confrontation at all costs. She knew how to be a princess, a hostess, a slave to duty. But she’d never learned how to be in the same room with DeRohan and keep her composure.

“I’d naturally assumed that you’d stay at the Carlton,” she said to change the subject.

“Why should I, when I have a perfectly good home right here?”

“My home,” she corrected.

“That, Juliana, depends on my good graces. Technically, you violated our agreement when you moved back to France, which means this house belongs to me. I could go to my solicitors and they would have the title out of your hands in five minutes flat. Everyone knows you’ve been living here. It’s easy enough to prove.”

“I left London because you murdered someone near and dear to me. What decent woman wouldn’t?”

“If you were a decent woman, you wouldn’t have had a lover, now, would you? Besides which, I murdered no one. I dispatched that sniveling bastard in a duel of honor.”

“Honor!” she cried, losing her battle with self-control. “The best shot in London against a gentle soul who never fired a pistol in his life. You goaded him into that duel with the intent of murder and you know it.”

“Did you really think I’d let you make a fool of me?” he snarled. “Allow everyone in town the spiteful pleasure of gossiping that my wife was tarting around on me? No, Juliana. I protect what I own.”

“You don’t own me.”

Calmly, almost as if he were moving in slow motion, DeRohan reached out and grabbed her arm, jerking her close and piercing her with an unflinching glare. “You fancy yourself independent because I’ve allowed you to run free for so long. But that’s an illusion that ends now. You came to me bought and paid for. Yes, I killed your precious Edwin. And I’d do it again. I will, in point of fact, destroy any man you foolishly choose to take up with. You may not warm my bed, but by God, you’ll warm no one else’s either. Know it, Juliana. Remember it.”

Once again, despite her resolve, she tasted her fear of him. She swallowed, trying to dispel it, and said with all the dignity she could muster, “Take your hand off me.”

For a moment, she thought he’d refuse. Then, just as abruptly as he’d taken hold of her, he dropped his hand and turned away.

“I’ve come to tell you,” he said conversationally, “that your happy little sojourn has come to an end. I can see that I’ve been too lenient. I allowed you to live apart from me in London. I have courteously—some might say indulgently—given you time to lick your wounds. I’ve been as patient and understanding a husband as ever there was. But now my patience is at its end. From today forward, you’re going to start living up to your agreement. For the time being, I’m establishing my residence here. I have a specific mission that’s vital to me, and as it happens, I need your help.”

“Help with what?”

“Two years ago there was a revolution in Persia. The new leader—they call him the Shah—has voided all the country’s previous oil concessions. He’s shopping around for a new recipient for those concessions. I intend to be that recipient.”

“Why oil?”

“The man who gets those concessions and has the ships, as I do, to transport the oil around the world, will become the richest—and most powerful—European of the Machine Age.”

“What do I have to do with that?”

“It seems the Shah is an admirer of the fallen Habsburg Dynasty for the same reason the rest of the world hates it. A family that managed to rule most of Europe for more than six hundred years—two hundred years longer than Rome did. The fact that I have a Habsburg wife has intrigued the Shah enough that he’s agreed to come and discuss the possibility of a partnership. So you see, my dear, you will be an enormous help to me in the competition to acquire those unimaginably lucrative contracts.”

“And if I tell him what a blackguard you really are?”

“Don’t even joke about that. You don’t have any idea what I can do. Go out and ask some of my competitors just how unpleasant I can be when I’m crossed.”

She believed him. There was a ferocity in his eyes she’d never seen before.

“I want this,” he ground out. “I will have it. These contracts are more important to me than you are, but I need you in order to get them. So listen carefully to how things are going to be. Not only will I live in this house, I will be master of it. You will play the role of my devoted wife and helpmate, and will obey my every whim. Because if you don’t, you’ll lose the house and jewels you love so well.”

“You’ve always wanted them,” she accused. “This house, the jewels. It isn’t enough that you took my father from me. But you’re not going to take them, too. You say you have a mission, well so do I. All you care about is raking in more and more money until you don’t even know how much you have. But I care about more than that. I’ve been given a sacred trust, to safeguard all that’s left of my family, of our old way of life, of everything we stood for. I swore to my father that I would protect the Habsburg name with my life. I even sold myself to you. All to keep the last meager remnants of what’s left to us. So don’t think I’m going to let you take them from me. You’ll have to kill me first.”

“Then you had better start acting like the wife you agreed to be. Because you’re wrong, Juliana. I don’t have to kill you. All I have to do is assert my legal rights. So long as you play the role I dictate and stay in line, I shall keep the house and jewels in your name. But the minute you give me any trouble, I shall seize this house and level it into the rock heap it once was. And I’ll melt your precious jewels into scrap metal.”

The reality of her situation had never been more plainly stated. If she’d had a knife in that moment, she’d happily have plunged it into his vile heart.

“As soon as the bulk of my things are unpacked, I’ll be off for four nights on business. I suggest you use the time to think over what I’ve said. And get some rest. You’re looking a trifle ill, for all that you’re as brown as a gypsy. That won’t do. By the time the Shah arrives, I expect you to be looking your best. Thank God you haven’t bobbed your hair in that ridiculous fashion. That’s something, at least.”

She was burning under his scrutiny. Between clenched teeth, she managed to ask, “Am I dismissed, then?”

His gaze flicked over her. “For now.”

She stormed off, racing through the house to the west wing and the sanctuary of her own apartment, slamming the door behind her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Tears of anger, frustration, and fear of living under the thumb of this deranged sadist. She sank onto the velvet stool before her vanity and put her head in her hands on the table, wracked by sobs, her eyes stinging with hot tears. What would the rest of her life be like? How could she bear it, living under the same roof with him?

But it wasn’t long before the helplessness was replaced by a growing sense of rage. She looked up, catching sight of herself in the vanity mirror. Her face looked pale, her eyes red and swollen, her blond hair falling in tangles about her shoulders. At least you haven’t bobbed your hair in that ridiculous fashion…

In a fury, she rifled through the drawers until she found a pair of scissors. Grabbing a handful of hair, she began to hack at it with violent strokes. Again and again, until the carpet at her feet was littered with strands of severed golden hair. She looked again at herself in the mirror, surging with satisfaction, vindication, revenge. The face that looked back at her appeared altered suddenly. She felt younger, lighter, freer somehow.

But the sense of emancipation was short-lived. When the dust settled, it was futile, the rash rebellion of a child. The loss of her hair would change nothing. DeRohan would return and already she could feel the life draining out of her.

What can I do?

Through her despair, the memory of her adventure of the night before came floating to the surface of her mind. Once again, that same impulse seized her. This midnight specter…this Panther…she sensed again that he was the one man who was more than a match for DeRohan. The man who could set her free. He was clever and brave, and from all accounts, afraid of nothing. And the truth was, she could make all the resolutions she wanted, but if she was going to come out of this in one piece, she would need help. Somehow, she felt certain the Panther could think of a way out of this awful mess.

But how?

She’d lured him to her once with the false bait of the Habsburg jewels. She could do it again. But this time, he wouldn’t be fooled. She’d have to put the goods on the table.

The corners of her mouth began to tug into a smile as a new plan began to unfold.

Her mind racing now, she went to the buzzer and pushed the button. In a few moments, Hudson entered. He stopped short when he saw her, startled as he took in the mass of hair on the Savonnerie rug.

“Highness?” he asked, uncertainly.

“Hudson, call Monsieur Philippe and ask him to come as soon as he can to give me a proper trim. I’ve decided to cut my hair.”

“Very well, Highness.” He paused briefly. “The master intends to remain, I understand.”

“Don’t call him that,” she snapped irritably. “My husband is not my master. We won’t discuss his plans at present. I’ll give you instructions as they’re needed.”

“As you wish, Highness.”

His sudden stiffness jogged her. What was she doing? Treating Hudson as if he were just one of the hired help, when in reality he knew of her feelings for DeRohan and her dread of what she’d thought was but an impending visit. More gently she added, “With any luck, Hudson, the situation will prove temporary.”

“Then we’ll hope for good fortune, Highness.”

Dear Hudson. He always knew just what to say. “The Clews’s masked ball is the night after tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“It is, Highness.”

“I’ve decided to go after all. Have Madame Giverny bring by a selection of costumes this afternoon for me to choose from.”

“I shall telephone her immediately I’ve rung up the hairdresser.”

Jules played with the fringe on her dress as she thought. “And Hudson, I’d like you to make some other calls this afternoon. And have the Rolls washed and ready in the morning. I’ll want you to drive me.”

“Where are we going, Highness?”

“To Nice.”

“May I ask the nature of our outing?”

“We’re going to pay a visit to the bank vault.”

“I see. And may I be so bold as to ask what Your Highness is planning?”

She turned to him with a twinkle in her eye. “Planning? Why, not a thing, Hudson. I’ve just decided the Clews’s ball would be the perfect opportunity to show off some of my jewels.”