Royally Seduced - By Marie Donovan Page 0,3
for that hairless, muscle-bound refugee from the tanning salon.”
Her lips tightened, and he realized the Neckless Wonder might still be her “workout partner.” She scoffed, apparently deciding to take the offensive. “Jacques, you know marriages among our class are not necessarily exclusive. Don’t be so bourgeois.”
“Genetically impossible, chérie. As you well know, I am the Count de Brissard,” he taunted her.
The look in her eye made him glad the guillotine had been retired two hundred years ago. “You have the soul of a peasant.” And she meant it to sting.
Too bad for her he spoiled it by laughing. “I take that as a grand compliment. As a rule, peasants do not cheat and then have the gall to mock the person they cheat on.” Although he had had a few months to come to terms with her infidelity, it still angered him and he started to raise his voice.
“You are the most selfish man I ever met!” she shouted at him.
“Selfish? Because I do not care to share my fiancée sexually?”
“Pah! If you would have stayed in France for more than two weeks, perhaps I wouldn’t have needed to find companionship elsewhere.”
“Bien, so I am selfish for leaving this mansion and going to the absolute hellholes of the world to help people who have nothing? Sick people? Dying people? Et toi, how do you help anyone but yourself?”
“Eh, oui, Saint Jacques of Paris. Any more of your ‘good works’ and they will be carving a statue of you for the Cathedral de Notre Dame. Make sure they get your sweaty hippie hair and beard correct. Cochon!” Her face reddened.
He didn’t know if she was calling him a pig because of his hair or his personality, and he didn’t care. “You are unbelievable. I am grateful I saw your true character before marrying you. I’m sure you would have cost me plenty to divorce you once I found out.”
Her mouth twisted, about to fire more insults at him, but he couldn’t take it—couldn’t take her—any longer. He rounded the corner leading back to the party and stopped short.
His mother stood stricken in the hall, her hand covering her mouth—like he wished he had done to himself. The guests stood behind her, their expressions ranging from shocked to sly to amused.
Even Bellamy was shaking his dignified gray head. If Bellamy heard them yelling, they must have been loud indeed.
“Maman.” He lowered his head to hers. “I am so sorry to ruin…” Out of the corner of his eye he caught a young man with disheveled blond hair surreptitiously taking his photo with his phone.
Was nothing private anymore? He couldn’t even talk to his mother in their own home without some idiot and his camera phone?
“Eh, you!” he shouted at the man. “No photos. Give me that phone.”
The guy clutched his phone to his chest but Jacques easily wrestled it from him and deleted the picture.
But that first man was not the only one. A larger camera took his picture—several times. Had his mother hired a photographer for the party? No, he noticed a polished brunette standing next to the photographer, taking copious notes.
“Reporters, Maman?”
Her stricken expression confirmed it. “Just the society page. They asked to come when we got news of your return.”
“I don’t want to be on the society page.” That was a big reason he didn’t stay in France for very long.
“I’m so sorry, Jacques.” Her big blue eyes started to tear. “I missed you so much and wanted to welcome you back.”
The large room started pressing in on him. “No, Maman, I’m sorry for embarrassing you. But I can’t stay.”
“What?” Her forehead creased. “But, Jacques, you just got home.”
“I can’t,” he repeated. The noise, the bright lights, even the smell of the food was making him dizzy and disoriented. Nadine’s theatrical sobs in the background didn’t help, either. He pushed his way through the party guests and grabbed his beat-up backpack from near the door.
Ever the professional, Bellamy opened the door. “Good to see you again, milord,” the butler informed him. Jacques gave him an incredulous glance considering the mêlée coming towards them, but the old man was as unruffled as always.
“If you would permit some advice from a longtime family retainer, I would recommend a sojourn in the country. Perhaps some fresh air and hearty cooking would benefit your constitution.”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time, Bellamy. Merci beaucoup.” Jacques spotted the ambitious reporter and her photographer gaining on him.
“Not to fear, sir, mum’s the