Page 135 of Prelude To You

Emily waved me to the door. “That must be our tea, why don’t you get it for us? They don’t need to come in here.”

I couldn’t resist a smile. “Sure, let me do that,” I said quickly.

There was something oddly comforting when Emily treated me like a son and not the heir to the empire. The first thing I noticed as I took the tray to her was the plate with four madeleines. “Oh, I know these French pastries,” I said.

Emily chuckled as she poured two cups of tea. “What do you know about them?”

“Nelson was kind enough to bring me two this morning with my coffee. And he told me they were French pastries called madeleines. You learn something new every day. Delightful little bites. We should get as many as we can fit in the kitchen.”

Emily laughed. She handed me a cup of tea and the plate with the four madeleines. “You can have all of these. Quite frankly, I wish Isabel would stop bringing pastries. She’s going to make us all fat. And it’s like this every day. Yesterday she made us chocolate éclairs. You’ve never tasted anything like that in your life. I saw two senior staff members almost get into a scuffle over the last éclair. No doubt she’ll bring more pastries tomorrow. I’ll make sure you get some with your morning coffee.”

There was absolutely no doubt now; I actually had lost my mind because I could swear I heard Emily say “Isabel.” And I’ve been smelling Isabel’s scent all day. And she’s a pastry chef.

I clung to a shred of sanity as the most ridiculous idea incubated in my head. Isabel said she was working at a place that she couldn’t discuss. Belmont Manor’s first order of business with new employees was to have them sign NDAs in case they should ever feel even slightly tempted to share information about the family or estate.

I tried weighing the probability of the most improbable thing ever to happen. But my practical mind didn’t allow for flights of imagination, and the idea fizzled out before it had a chance to evolve.

“Who did you say this was?” I asked, for no other reason than to confirm my insanity.

“Isabel Le Roche,” Emily said. “She’s your father’s reader. It’s a long story about how a pastry chef ended up here, but she’s heaven-sent. And we all adore her…”

I stared at Emily, speechless. Her smile faded and her features softened to concern. “Roman are you all right? You’re suddenly quite pale.”

I carefully put my cup of tea down next to the plate of madeleines, not trusting my hands to be steady. “I’m fine,” I said, perhaps a bit abruptly. “It’s just a bit warm in here. Please excuse me for a moment. I need to go to the restroom.”

I desperately needed a minute to myself. As the bathroom door closed behind me, the first thing I did was splash cool water over my face. I considered the chance that maybe lack of sleep or not eating properly was causing me to hallucinate. None of this could be remotely real in anyone’s wildest imaginings.

But when I looked up at my reflection in the mirror, I could barely disguise my smile. I allowed the monumental relief to wash over me.Isabel was okay, she was safe, and she was under my wing every day.

Even if this solved one problem, it created a slew of new ones. But I was comforted. I pulled myself together. How long would it take for her to find out I was in this house? Or that the comatose man she was reading to and playing Monopoly with was my father.

The whole situation had suddenly put me under some kind of spell. One I didn’t want to be broken. I sauntered back into the room as nonchalantly as possible. As I sat back in Isabel’s chair, I inadvertently turned my face to the blanket where her smell was. It sent whispers of yearning through me.

But as relieved as I was that Isabel was fine, I had no idea how long I’d be satisfied with her just being here in my house. Or how long it would be before all I wanted to do was drag her to a quiet corner and ravish her. For someone who prided himself onperseverance, the latter seemed to be the biggest challenge. And not one I looked forward to fighting tooth-and-nail.

I continued to drink my tea and indulge in Isabel’s madeleines. I wanted to keep this as conversational as possible, but there were a few urgent questions that needed to be answered. “So, this Isabel… Does she know who we are?” I asked carefully.

Emily delicately held her cup of tea. “You know,” she said, “she never asked, not once. All she asked was whether Henry had family and why they weren’t visiting him.”

“So she doesn’t know anything about us.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Emily assured me. “And I didn’t feel I should insist on telling her… All in good time. But why the questions about Isabel? Two minutes ago, you were all but ridiculing her methods.”

“I wasn’t ridiculing her methods, Emily. I was just surprised by this very sentimental side of you. But I understand now why you appreciate what she’s doing. We all want him to get better. And since there isn’t a whole lot to lose here, by all means let’s see what she can do to help him.”

Emily expressed her astonishment by tilting her head at me. “Who are you and what have you done with Roman Henry Belmont the IV?” she asked.

“Do I really come across as that indifferent, normally?” I asked. “Byron implied the same thing today.”

“Well, I wouldn’t take anything Byron says to heart. And no, it’s not that you come across as indifferent. You’re just extremely guarded. It’s as if you consciously suppress any feeling that might interfere with the analytical thought process instilled in you at that school in Switzerland. You’re more like your father than you think.”

“Can’t say I know him well enough outside of the business to recognize that.”

Emily looked at my father, and her look spoke volumes. “Allow me to tell you about Henry Belmont. He’s a very stubborn man, enormously intelligent, very fair, decent, and dangerous to those who cross him or place those close to him in jeopardy. But he’s also a very passionate man. And believe it or not he can be a lot of fun. I’ve been very privileged to experience a side of him no one else ever has.”

For a while it was silent between us, emphasizing the sound of the machines that kept the man at the center of it all alive. Something in the back of my mind was clawing for a solution to end this despair I felt for a woman I hadn’t known a few days ago. A woman who was now here in my house.

“One day you’ll have to tell me how this arrangement between you and my father works,” I said quietly. “How it has worked for thirty years.”

---