Elizabeth Rolls - Regency High Society Vol 3 - Beloved Virago / Lord Trenchard's Choice / The Unruly Chaperon / Colonel Ancroft's Love

Something in her expression must have betrayed her thoughts, and the fact that she was no longer ignorant of the nature of the establishment in which she had been temporarily housed, for Madame Carre, after a moment’s thoughtful silence, lowered her deceptively dreamy brown eyes and smiled wryly.

‘Oh, dear,’ she muttered. ‘My darling Daniel will not be best pleased with his little Josephine when he discovers that you know.’

Major Ross’s views on the matter were of absolutely no interest whatsoever to Katherine. After all it was he, the unconscionable wretch, who had brought her here in the first place! she decided, at last availing herself of the invitation to sit beside her hostess on the chaise-longue. Outraged though she was, she was still not prepared to allow the housekeeper to be blamed for what had been in effect her own misdeeds, and didn’t hesitate to make this point very clear, before casually enquiring the present whereabouts of the man who had plummeted in her estimation.

‘After we returned in the carriage, he went into the town to see if he could find a buyer for your horses. I no longer enjoy that form of exercise and have no need for hacks. Furthermore, my stable is not sufficiently large to house them. He said he doubted he would be back in time to join us for dinner. But I am certain we can manage to entertain ourselves well enough without him.’ Again there was a suspicion of a wry smile. ‘As you might imagine, it is not often that I find myself in the company of such a refined and charming young lady.’

Striving not to allow lingering resentment or prejudice to cloud her judgement, Katherine attempted to view her hostess dispassionately as she watched her rise gracefully to her feet and move across to the table on which several decanters stood.

Madame Carre might not have been universally considered a beauty. Yet, blessed with a riot of dusky curls, a flawless ivory complexion, and a pair of sparkling dark eyes, she was certainly most attractive. She was not short on charm or sportiveness, traits which would undoubtedly appeal to the vast majority of the opposite sex, and for all her provocative smiles and dreamy-eyed glances, she was not lacking in intelligence either.

It was only when she accepted the wine held out to her that Katherine realised that, since entering the room, the conversation had been conducted in English and, intrigued, she didn’t hesitate to discover where Madame had learned to speak the language so well.

‘Josephine, please,’ Madame insisted before subjecting Katherine to yet another of those swift and acutely penetrating glances. ‘My parents were prosperous enough to afford the services of a governess for both my sister and myself.’ Once again a flicker of a wry smile tugged at the corners of the full-lipped mouth. ‘The dress you are wearing is a present for my widowed sister. I intend to pay her a visit in the not too distant future. Needless to say, I cannot invite her or my little niece to stay here with me, though I do try to help her as much as I can. Her husband died in Spain, and she does not find it easy to manage on the little she makes from taking in sewing. I help as much as I’m allowed, but she is very proud. One day I shall buy my house by the Seine, and invite them to live with me.’

Clearly detecting the slightly sombre, almost wistful, note in her voice, Katherine couldn’t help thinking that Madame Carre was not altogether happy with her present situation. So why had she chosen such a profession in the first place when she was more than capable of earning herself a living in some genteel occupation? And where did Monsieur Carre fit into the scheme of things?

‘And you, Madame … Josephine, have you ever been married?’ Katherine found herself asking, curiosity having got the better of her a second time, and she quickly discovered that eyes which could twinkle with a wickedly teasing sparkle could harden in an instant and glint like chips of ice.

‘Oh, yes, petite. Unfortunately I was once married. Both my sister and I married soldiers, the only difference being my sister chose wisely. My brother-in-law was a charming man, courageous and noble, not unlike your Major Ross in many ways; whereas Henri Carre, although possessing all the outward trappings of a gentleman, was a callous, manipulative blackguard who cared for nothing and no one except himself.’

Josephine’s eyes, dimmed by bitter regrets, focused on a spot somewhere on the wall opposite. ‘Young and foolish, I was beguiled by a handsome face and the silver tongue of an inveterate gamester. And not a very skilled one at that! It did not take me very long to realise the mistake I had made, but I was too proud to return to my family. When he had gambled away my dowry and our home, I had little choice but to accompany him out to the Peninsula, where I swiftly discovered just how vile and contemptible he could be, when he forced me to retrieve his IOUs from his friends and fellow officers in a way that only a woman can.’

Utterly appalled, Katherine was as powerless to prevent the gasp that rose in her throat from passing her lips as she was to conceal the heartfelt sympathy which sprang into her eyes. Yet surprisingly Josephine raised one hand in a dismissive gesture and, more amazingly still, even managed to smile.

‘I do not deserve your pity, ma chère. I was too proud to return to seek assistance from my family and admit the mistake I had made. And my pride cost me my self-respect. Nevertheless, it also taught me something too. I know the depths to which men can plummet. But I have also been blessed to experience how honourable and chivalrous some quite exceptional men can be.’

The self-deprecating smile which had clung to her lips suddenly became very tender, as did her whole expression. ‘When my husband was killed at Badajoz, it was not a Frenchman who came to my aid, but an English captain.’

Katherine gazed at her companion in dawning wonder, clearly remembering at least part of the conversation she had had with her cousin on that wet February day. So it was true! She had been foolish ever to doubt it.

‘Yes, petite,’ Josephine confirmed, expertly judging her companion’s expression. ‘It was your Major Ross who saved my life, who spared me the humiliation of being violated by several of Wellington’s troops, little realising at the time that suffering painful humiliations was nothing new to me. His noble act very nearly cost him his own life. I remained in the British camp and nursed him back to health.’ There was a suspicion of tears in the dark brown eyes as they lowered and focused on the contents of her glass. ‘He demanded nothing from me during the time I remained with him. He gave me money so that I might return home and even went so far as to escort me as close as he dared to the French lines.’

She paused for a moment to sample the contents of her glass. ‘My return to France was not altogether happy. On reaching Paris I discovered that my mother had died just a few weeks before. I didn’t choose to live with my brother and his wife, who I had always considered a shrew, and I refused to be an added burden to my dear sister, whose husband had died at Talavera. So I came here to Normandy to take care of an ailing maiden aunt. She had little money, but she did leave me this house which, after my experiences in Spain, I was more than capable of putting to good use.’

Half an hour earlier Katherine would have found such a bold admission deplorable, but this was no longer the case. Now she could understand perfectly, and felt ashamed of herself for having been so naively judgmental as to stigmatise the woman sitting beside her as nothing more than an immoral trollop.

She didn’t believe she could feel more conscience-stricken, but she was wrong. Her sense of shame spiralled when Josephine unexpectedly announced, ‘Although I would never betray my country, I do not forget my friends. When I first settled here in Normandy I did write a letter to Daniel, which eventually reached him. He paid me an unexpected visit last year, in the summer, before finally returning home. Naturally, after Napoleon’s abdication, we assumed the conflict between our two countries had finally come to an end. Sadly, this increasingly seems not to be the case. But I told Daniel once that if ever he should be in need of my help in the future, he had only to contact me.’