Page 25 of Liaison with the Champagne Count
He loved her ideas, loved her desire to engage in the business of winemaking and selling. But those were the very things that kept him and hisonclefrom their dream. If she were to succeed, she’d have no motive to sell. And if she were to fail, he and hisoncledidn’t have the funds yet to make an offer on the place. Julien climbed into the gig and gave a desultory cluck to the horse. Everything had been going so well until she’d come along, and now his quiet world, a world that hadn’t made him happy but at least had been a world he understood, was on fire. She was burning him from the inside out. At this rate, he’d be nothing but ash when she was done with him.
Chapter Sixteen
She was done with waiting. Emma strode through the fields that abutted the road, her steps wide, her pace angry. She was angry with herself, angry with Julien. She’d waited because she’d wanted to. She’d chosen this affair over pushing forward with the vineyards, all the while knowing deep down that the two were not mutually compatible, that itwouldcome to a choice. She could not have both.
She’d not expected, though, that it would come to a head over an invitation to tea. She’d actually expected a very different reaction from him. She’d thought he’d be excited about the initiative she’d taken and about the doors this invitation could open. But he’d reacted as if it were the worst possible thing she could have done.
Emma picked up a stick and swatted at the tall grasses as she walked. A few bumblebees buzzed in irritation at the disruption. Julien’s reaction was proof that she didn’t know him as well as she liked to believe. She’d felt they’d grown close over the past weeks. They’d told each other stories of their childhoods, of their families. They’d made love exotically, erotically, on picnic blankets, before fireplaces, even once on the kitchen worktable after a homemade supper. She’d never known the depths of pleasure that she knew in Julien’s arms. Surely such pleasure could not be feigned or fabricated without there being genuine feeling, sincere caring for one another.
She knew that was true on her part, which was why this current impasse cut at her so deeply. She liked Julien, perhaps more than liked him. It was hard to use the wordloveso soon after losing Garrett, mostly because she’d not expected to ever fall in love again. But here Julien was, showing her a different passion than the love she’d shared with Garrett, showing her that a person might have more than one meaningful relationship in their lifetime. And yet, there was a price for that. He was not Garrett. She’d keenly felt that today.
Julien had not supported her today. It had all been subtly done. Someone less aware might not have even noticed, but she had. He’d looked for any opportunity to undermine her ideas, and her ambition. She’d not understood it. Didn’t he see that her success with the vineyard was his success as well? She heard her father’s voice in her head:It’s never just one thing.
Businesses or relationships didn’t succeed or fail because of one single incident. Some might say they’d won or lost a fortune on the turn of a card, but it was never that clear-cut. There was always something underneath, something that preceded the watershed event. The quarrel today had been that—a watershed event—bringing to the fore issues that had existed from the beginning between her and Julien, issues that she’d not bothered to resolve. Mainly, the issue of who was in charge here. That had been between them from the start. Julien was still trying to be in charge.
Emma made a list in her head of all that she’d not yet done since arriving: she’d not seen the books; she’d not met the consortium; she’d not driven around to the various domains and introduced herself; she’d not gone into Reims and connected with the bankers. Ideally, these were things Julien should have helped facilitate. But he’d never once offered. It prompted questions she didn’t want to ask: Had he deliberately blinded her? Kept her here? Distracted her on purpose?Was there something he didn’t want her to know? Without her in the open meeting neighbours and the growers’ consortium he could maintain the illusion of being in charge. And she’d let him. In hindsight, she could see the pattern. Each time they’d got close to issues of her being in charge, he’d found ways to divert the conversation with a story, with an argument, with sex. And she’d allowed that, too. She’d chosen to pursue the pleasure he offered.
The chateau came into view, its majestic turreted wings and steep skyline demanding her attention. This was Garrett’s gift to her. She needed to be worthy of it. That would require taking a stand against Julien if he continued to block her way forward. It would mean letting him go as a lover.
You knew it would end, her conscience taunted.
Had it been worth it? To fill the loneliness, to experience something new? To remind herself she was alive? These were no small things. But now it was time to move forward with or without Julien. If he was a man who could not support a woman’s success, then she was better off without him. But that didn’t stop the idea from hurting.
He was in the cellars when she returned, in the room he claimed as his office. The door stood open. The only time the space was unlocked was when he was in it. It had not struck her as odd at first, but it did now.Wasthere a reason he kept it locked when there was essentially just the two of them here? Field workers were not up to the chateau and the house servants could be trusted implicitly. Keeping it locked meant she had to ask him for access to the room and to all the room contained even though the room and its contents were technically hers.
Julien looked up from the desk that was crammed inside; it wasn’t a large space. It seemed more like a closet hollowed out from the cave walls. There were no windows, just the desk, a chair, and shelves lined with books and ledgers. He also looked crammed inside, a man too big for the space. His eyes met hers, his brow lifting in challenge, in question, as if to say,You’re in my space, what do you want?
‘I would like to see the books from the last seven years.’ She was pleased her words came out cool and polite. ‘Please have someone bring them to the library right away.’ What could he say to that except yes? They both knew he had no grounds on which to refuse her. This was her house, her books, her right.
‘Would you like me to join you?’ he answered her with equally polite tones. ‘I would be glad to show you the books.’ They both knew that was a lie. If he’d been glad to show them to her he would have done so already. The fact that he’d not voluntarily offered to show them to her weeks ago when she’d first arrived, coupled with the recent reality that he hadn’t pled denial when she’d accused him of hiding something this afternoon, hung palpable between them, gilding the interaction with an air of suspicion.
‘No, thank you. I will let you know if I have questions.’ She wanted to see the books with her own eyes and form her own opinions first without seeing them through whatever lens Julien might want her to view them through. The idea that she could potentially not trust that lens made her stomach clench. She did not want to believe that but shemustconsider it.
The books were waiting for her on the long library reading table when she arrived after a short detour to her chambers to change from the picnic. She’d traded her outdoor clothes for a loose gown of dark blue. It wasn’t quite black but she wasn’t seeing anyone, and she wanted to be comfortable. It was going to be a long night and likely an uncomfortable one. Soon she would know if Julien was hiding anything from her, or she’d know she owed him an apology for her thinly veiled accusation this afternoon. If she was wrong, would he forgive her? She’d attacked his honour. Even so, she’d prefer to be wrong than to discover some perfidy on his part. If there were lies, it meant there were also other, difficult, realisations she’d have to face as well and she’d rather not, especially when they’d all rotate around the knowledge that she had been duped.
There was something wrong with the books. This was the only conclusion Emma could come to after running through all seven years twice. The books were not complicated: money in, money out, and this was not a busy chateau dealing with countless exports, just one man’s delight in having wine from his own property. She did not think she’d overlooked anything. But two problems were staring her in the face.
First, there weren’t enough grapes accounted for. The chateau had more acreage than there were grapes being recorded. Second, Julien wasn’t drawing a salary. Not once in seven years had any money been paid to him and yet Garrett had always talked of having hired him. Hired people were paid. Other wages not attached to the household budget were recorded here—like the payments made to the grape picking crews that came through every harvest.
An awful fear took root in her stomach as she stared at the ledgers. Had Julien stolen from Garrett? Was that what he was trying to keep her from discovering? It would be impossible to know how much he’d taken. Had he also taken the grapes and sold them, pocketing the profits? It would be so easy to do without someone here to oversee the overseer.
And yet it felt wrong. A man like Julien, who loved the land, who spoke of this place with such passion for it, would not steal from it. People didn’t steal from those they loved. She couldn’t stop her mind fast enough. What did that mean for them? Nothing good. Emma left the table and began to pace. Whatever was happening here, he’d not felt enough for her to tell her. Why was she so surprised by that? She’d been betrayed by so-called friends before and Julien had at least left her plenty of hints. She should have been on alert for that pattern to repeat itself since the day he’d left word with Richet about his whereabouts but not bothered to share them with her.
Her mind might understand those conclusions but her heart did not like them. It refused to believe she was that inconsequential to Julien, that he could be so callous. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was just after eleven. She’d worked through supper and well into the evening. It was late but not too late. How would she ever sleep tonight? She’d been angry and hurt when she’d started the process, and now she was angrier still, her hurt magnified by what might very well be a truth she could no longer hide from. There was nothing so embarrassing as self-delusion. Especially when it wasn’t the first time. She was supposed to have learned her lesson.
There’s no time like the present.
She wasn’t going to sleep. She might as well put her questions to him. Ask him about the missing grapes and the non-existent salary. She would see his true colours. She made for the stairs. This time of night, he’d be in his room—a room that was actually guest chambers. Quite nice quarters for someone who worked for the chateau. No attic room or below stairs dormitory for him. Garrett had treated him like a king with those rooms.
Or did Garrett know? Perhaps Julien had self-assigned those rooms because there was no one to gainsay him?
Oh, how she hated such negative thoughts. Even more, she hated that sometimes they were necessary. One didn’t get ahead in the world by walking around with blinders on.
She halted at the door to Julien’s room. Suddenly, knocking on the door became a litmus test. If he was worried about what she’d find in the ledgers, how could he be asleep? He’d be awake, concerned. Surely, that boded better? Only a man who didn’t care would be able to sleep after the quarrel they’d had. She rapped on the door and waited.
‘Come.’ Relief flooded through her. He was awake. It was a sign of concern, a sign that perhaps the quarrel had left him restless and dissatisfied, too. Perhaps it was also a sign that all might not be lost.
Emma stepped into the room. It was a distinctly masculine space. Tall leather wing-backed chairs were set before the fire. Julien occupied one of them, dressed in banyan and trousers. The banyan gaped open, exposing a glimpse of his torso. He was such a handsome man. Just this afternoon they’d been... No. She must set aside such thoughts. Until she got to the bottom of this, there could be no more ofthat.
