Page 32 of Liaison with the Champagne Count
He told you about the meeting, her conscience prompted.That counts for something.He said he loved you. Those are not easy words for a man like him. Love has hurt him, too.
She still hadn’t quite processed that. The argument that had kept her up all night swirled relentlessly in her head one more time, as if she had not just considered it. Why tell her about the meeting? After her harsh words, he owed her nothing, unless he wanted her there so he could press his marital suit, turn her failure to his triumph.
Or maybe he is trying to prove his words. He loves you. Why would you think he’d pressure you when he’s never once spoken of marriage to you?
Technically, it was a fairly large leap to marriage. She and Julien had never spoken of the future during their affair. They’d lived in the present. It was Madame Clicquot who’d brought up his previous engagement and what had been involved, who’d warned that perhaps Julien was leading her down a path that ended at the altar. And Emma had ran with that. Because it made sense. Because it answered the question: Why would he want her? Because he wanted the land and she was the key.
Inside, Emma handed her straw hat to the footman. A footman? At a farmhouse? She wondered if Etienne Archambeau lived so well or if the footman had been brought in by the consortium for the occasion. She opted to believe the latter. ‘Madame, everyone has already eaten,’ he began, unnerved by her arrival. She was not on his guest list.
‘I am aware.’ She smiled at him to put him at ease. She’d arrived late on purpose, in part because it was a good strategy—she wanted to take them by surprise—and in part on principle. Jesus might have eaten with Judas but she wasn’t that magnanimous. She could not stomach the thought of sitting down for a meal among those who would persecute her, see her destroyed. ‘If you could just show me where they are?’
The hired footman directed her to the dining room where the men were gathered around a long, old, oak table, set at odds with heavy silver and china containing the residue of lunch while a few continued to peck at leftovers.
She stopped in the doorway and raised her voice to be heard above the din of male conversation. ‘Good afternoon, gentlemen.’ Conversation stopped, forks dropped along with jaws, and the room went preternaturally still. She found Julien at the table and allowed herself a quick glance, careful not to risk too much for either of them. Perhaps Julien wouldn’t appreciate the glance here in front of his friends and colleagues. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see in those cool blue eyes of his. Strength? Support? She saw a glimmer of both, although she knew she didn’t deserve it, not from him. They were ill-fated lovers, caught in an impossible situation.
A silver-haired gentleman rose. ‘Madame Luce, I presume?’ He was all gracious manners and had blue eyes like Julien’s. ‘We weren’t expecting you.’ He found an empty chair and pulled it up to the table.
‘You should have been.’ She swept the table with her gaze, including everyone in the scold. ‘I am the owner of the vineyards at the chateau.’ She smiled to indicate she’d be candid but friendly for as long as she could. They needn’t be enemies. ‘But I am here now. By good fortune, I found out about the meeting, so no harm done,’ she said cheerily. ‘I believe the business meeting is about to begin?’ She was rewarded with the man at the head of the table—Etienne perhaps—shifting uneasily in his chair, the table remaining silent. Julien had been right. They did mean to see her deposed. She decided to help them out. It would be the last favour she’d do them. ‘I see, gentlemen. Iamthe business meeting. Well, let me start the conversation. It has come to my attention that there is some concern about my ability to run the vineyards at the chateau.’ She’d spent quite a while last night thinking through her position. How she might establish her own credibility while also shoring up Julien’s losses. ‘I want to allay those concerns by letting you know that while I will be overseeing marketing and many of the back-end aspects of the business, Julien Archambeau will remain at the helm of the agricultural and blending aspects. You all respect his reputation, so there should be no doubt about the quality of wine that will continue to be produced at the chateau.’ It was a difficult concession for her to make. She’d debated it hotly with herself all night. But she would not allow her business to suffer for the sake of her personal feelings. She would have to find her way past that. The chateau needed Julien.
A man at the end of the table cleared his throat. ‘Madame, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Charles Tremblay. I own Domaine Arnaud, my wife’s property, but I understood that Monsieur Archambeau would be working exclusively at his family’s vineyards.’ He shot a look at Etienne Archambeau, apparently waiting for Etienne to confirm it. She shot a look at Julien. Was that true? Her whole solution hinged on having him with her.
But why would he stay when you have accused him of terrible things? Did you really think he had nowhere else to go?
The silence stretched out at the table, all eyes turning towards Etienne. She might have overplayed her hand, unwittingly. It was a dangerous thing putting a man on the spot where he felt cornered in front of other men whose admiration he needed. Cornered men and animals were dangerous, unpredictable creatures. She’d cornered Julien, too, she realised. Her eyes darted to where he sat, his eyes cool and calculating, directed at hisoncle. Why didn’t he speak up? His hesitation was telling. Why wouldn’t he defend her?
Because he knows you want to defend yourself.
But she couldn’t defend herself at present. While it did not suit her to give in, sometimes one could talk too much and make a situation worse. A good cook knew it paid to let the stew simmer before stirring the pot. That was the case here. There was nothing she could do or say in this moment that would make things better.
Etienne looked at his nephew. ‘Apparently, Madame Luce has not heard the news. Perhaps you’d be so good as to tell her about your plans.’ Her stomach tightened. Etienne seemed so sure of himself, as if Julien’s answer was obvious, a foregone conclusion.
Julien spoke. ‘I think this is a matter better settled in private.’ The last of her hope—her fight—faded. It meant Julien had already chosen. He was truly gone from her now in all ways. Her gamble, her trust in Julien to save her business, and in turn her independence, was lost. He’d sided against her. She felt as if her insides were ripping her apart, so complete was her sense of betrayal. She had a choice: she could stay here and be further humiliated as a woman who didn’t even know what her own employee was doing, or she could gracefully exit.
‘I see, gentlemen. Perhaps you’d prefer to complete all your discussions in private. I give you good day, and I look forward to your decisions.’
She managed to exit before tears threatened, before the dam of her reserve broke. She’d half expected—or was that half wanted?—Julien to come after her. But what would he say? Why would he suddenly have words when he’d had none in that room? He could not fix this. Nor did she think hewantedto fix this. He’d done nothing but shoot steely blue daggers at hisoncle, but that had amounted to nothing in the end. Dear Lord, she’d almost believed him when he’d said he loved her. She’d been so close. So close to nearly being his fool, just as she’d been Redmond’s all those years ago. She’d be thankful for this reprieve later, but right now it hurt like a knife stuck in her gut.
She did not allow herself to cry until she was in the safety of her carriage. She couldn’t fight every front, the biases of the past with the injustices of her present. It was all the same—theywere all the same. She managed to give the command for home before the sobs welled up. She let them come. Amid the noise of horses and the road, no one would hear her cry. The sobs racked her, loud and body-shaking, shattering the temple of her resolve. In some ways Julien’s betrayal was worse than Redmond’s. He’d known she’d been hurt before and in the same way. He’d not hesitated to poke at the wound, to re-create the betrayal and humiliation of the past. All for his own gain. For his damned vineyards. And she’d nearly fallen for it.
The truth was, she had no ally here, no true friend. How she missed Fleur and Antonia. But they had their own troubles. They could not come to her.But you could go to them, the temptation whispered. Leave. Go back to England. Sometimes retreat was the best option for self-preservation. She’d never felt so desolate in her life. She had wagered on love—on Julien’s love—and she had lost. Perhaps, in her gut, that same gut where the metaphoric knife was still stabbing her, she’d known what would happen. She’d just needed to show up today at that meeting to see it in order to believe it.
A smart strategist knew when a game was unwinnable. She could not change those men’s minds, not without Julien. They did not want her here. She could run the chateau from afar, alaissez-faireowner as Garrett had been. But that didn’t help Julien.
Why should you help him?
He’d not stood up for her.
He is in an impossible situation, her heart whispered.How can you ask a man to choose between his family and a woman he’s just met? Some might say you were never meant to have this place, that you are the interloper, the one in the wrong.
It was a thought she’d had since the night Julien had told her everything. That she and Garrett were the interlopers here, they were the aberration. She ought to return the chateau to its rightful owner and restore the historic line. That Julien stayed to work for another owner, knowing it was rightfully his, proved his love for the land like she’d never know it. It was the right thing to do even though it put her at an enormous disadvantage. She had money, though. Garrett had left her well provided for. She could find a place of her own in England and start over or participate in the family business. There was always room for her there even if there was no future.
Perhaps the chateau had served its purpose. She’d got over her grief; she’d learned that she could feel again. Perhaps that was all it was meant to do and now it was time to move on, to go back, healed, strong, and ready to write herself a new chapter in life. She thought of the words from Garrett’s will, that this was to be a place of rest and recovery for as long as she desired it. There was no pressure to hold on to the place, to make it a family estate like Oakwood Manor. Perhaps she’d been too grandiose in her idea to run the vineyard. She’d recovered. She’d explored passion. It was time to go. Julien had made his choices and now she’d made hers. Once a decision was made, it was best to act on it immediately. She would start packing at once. For the first time since she and Julien had quarrelled, she felt better, stronger. This was the path forward. She was sure of it.
The heavy tread of boots sounded in the hall, followed by a low curse and the apologies of two footmen she’d just sent down with a trunk. Emma straightened from her folding. That would be Julien—she’d recognise that voice anywhere. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one packing. She’d have preferred to have left without any goodbyes. She’d hoped he’d have the decency not to kick her when she was down.
‘Emma, what is going on?’ Julien burst into the room, sending the maids scattering. ‘Yesterday I come home to find you hoisting a chandelier and today I come home to find you packing trunks.’ He looked as if he’d ridden hard. His dark hair was wind-blown, much as it had been the first night he’d stood in the drawing room, dusty boots on an expensive carpet.
‘I’ve decided to do some travelling. I am going to visit my family in England. I may stay awhile if I’m having a good time.’
