Page 46 of A Noble Affair
They walked into the large hall tothe apartment, and Chastity peered into the kitchen where Marc’s mother was busy arranging the flowers in a vase. She looked the same as she did in New York, except older. Chastity noted her high heels, which she had always worn, even at home on a Saturday. Shethought she recognized the slim skirt and navycardigan.
“There.” Madame Bastien brought the flowers over to the table in the sitting room and showed Chastity and Marc to a small sofa. There were already round tables with chips, pistachios, and a fewpetits-fours.
“What would you like to drink?” Marc’s father indicated the selection on the glass table.
“Brandy for me, Papa.”
“I’d like some Cointreau, please.”
When everyone had been served and had raised aglass to the generalhealth of everyone else, Marc’s father leaned back in the straight chair and crossed one leg over his knee. His mother sat forward in that focused, energeticway Chastity remembered.
“So, how’s Thomas?” Chastity could see Marc’s mother was determined to be pleasant and decided to reply in kind, giving a full answer.
“Thank you for the teddy bear you sent him. He really likes it. He’s recovering quickly and has surprised the doctors. But I can see he has a long way to go. He’s not himself. He gets frustrated easily whenhe used to be so easy-going. Truthfully, I can’t tell the extent of how much he’s lost cognitively because he doesn’t communicate as much as he used to.”
“We’re hoping you’ll be able to visit him soon,” Marc piped up.
His father must have seen the alarm in Chastity’s face because he said, “There’s no rush. We’ll be here. Let the boy get his bearings first.”
“Surely a short visit—” his mother hinted.
“Uh, so…how long have you been back in France?” Chastitystepped into the breach, hoping to avoid what would be an awkward refusal.
“Oh, it’s been about six years, right dear?” Madame Bastien smoothed her skirt and re-crossed her ankles. “Of course we had to wait until our Paris apartment was ready but once we decided to return, it didn’t take long until everything was settled.”
“Are the Ducamps still around?” Marc took a bite of his puff pastry and caught the flakes with his napkin.
“Oh, yes. You remember Marie Ducamp—she was about your age. She’s married now and has two children. We see them with the Ducamps at theboulangeriesometimes. Séverine is lucky her grandchildren live so close by. She’s able to see them often.”
“What about the de Fleurys? I haven’t heard from them in years.” Chastity could see Marc was making an exceptional effort at conversation, but those words seemed to be the wrong ones because his mother puckered up and went silent.
“We’ve not had news from them in about six years now,” Marc’s father said quietly. “More Cointreau?” Chastity shook her head. Six years was about the time that Marc went to prison. She could see he had made the connection too.
Chastity tried a different tack. “So, I recognize some of the artwork from your New York apartment. Were you able to bring everything over?” From there the conversation steered towards safer grounds, and Chastity made every effort to keep it there. She wasn’t ready to sacrifice her son’s healing by arranging a visit with his estranged grandparents, but she did want Marc to be fully reconciled with his parents and would do whatever it took to help. He was not ungrateful.
“You were great,” Marc said, as they walked towards the Metro on their way home. The sun was out, but it was starting to feel chillier, and she knew when they got off the RER in Maisons-Laffitte the daylight would have started to fade.
“I do want you to be on good terms with your parents, Marc. Nobody should be estranged from his own family. I’m glad I was able to help.” She sidestepped a dog on a leash, and the conversation turned to the occupational therapy Thomas was undergoing. When they stepped off the RER, they walked towards her apartment in easy friendship.
Marc kissed her on the cheek at her door. “Good night, Chas. Thanks again. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it.” She smiled as he sauntered off, relieved that at least tonight, she wouldn’t need to spell out that she didn’t want more than a friendship. She knew she needed to tell him at some point—at least she thought she did because he had made it clear he wanted more. Maybe he had taken the hint and understood without her having to say it. He had been respectful today and treated her like a friend. Perhaps they could transition smoothly into this phase without any awkward explanations.
Chastity turned on her heel and inserted her key in the front door. She rushed towards the elevator, suddenly eager to give Thomas a hug.
Charles was dressedin a black suit with a gray vest and a burgundy silk scarf at his throat, whose elegant folds were held in place by a discreet pin. Manon Duprey was at his side in a skin-tight black dress with the back of the dress cut lower than her waist, but with black lace discreetly coveringher bare skin. Her face resembled an angel with the large blue eyes and blond wisps that framed her face. He wouldn’t have been human if he remained oblivious to her perfection.
He disliked the flashing bulbs as entertainment journalists took their pictures on the red carpet. He didn’t like posing, and he didn’t like the fake ambiance of people pretending to be happy to see each other. Their look of pleasure was purely for the camera and did not go any deeper than that. Although…Bruce Richard’s lecherous delight was authentic. If Charles hadn’t found his fawning so pathetic, he would have been amused.
Manon was in her element. She was never better than when people gathered around to adore her. She was gracious and charming. She could, at turns, look innocent and naïve, then sultry and seductive. Charles could see how he had been taken in by her. He had believed the innocent more readily than the seductive, and when accompanied by such an angelic face, well, he supposed he didn’t stand a chance.
“Shall we go in, Charles?” Manon turned to face him, sweetly. She was on her best behavior, aiming to please, knowing he didn’t like a lot of attention. She had even expertly fielded the question a journalist directed towards the viscount, joking that he was a private man, and if the reporter didn’t stop asking questions, she would be left alone all evening without a date. The man took it in good turn, rallying that he would be happy to step in, and they were allowed to pass without Charles getting further accosted.
Charles sank into the plush chair, glad for the cover of darkness. On-screen, Manon was talented and perfectly suited to her role. At one point, he felt a lump forming in his throat when her character suffered humiliation that would eventually lead to her taking her life. Then he disassociated and stopped allowing himself to feel anything. He didn’t want to show any emotionwhen the entire world would be watching him for a reaction.
Instead, he started thinking about Chastity. It hadn’t been easy to get her to meet his eye after the fiasco at the museum. He could have shaken Manon for showing up just then. It had been the only time he had ever met Chastity outside the hospital, apart from the school meetings, and that night, he couldn’t wait to see her.
He remembered how direct she had been at the school, back when they discussed Louis’s problem, and how willing she was to fight to help him, despite Charles’s own reluctance. With Thomas, it was different. Chastity came to him openly—soft, and entrusting him with her son’s care. That evening at the museum showed yet another side of her. She was nervous, like a bird ready to take flight if he got too close. And just when he had gotten close…Charles shook his head in the dark, suppressing a sigh.
