“Frankly, so am I, even with the prize you dangled in front of me.”
“That prize does exist, but whether it’s authentic will be for you to decide.”
Abby eyed him seriously. “Assuming you’ve told me the truth about your life so far, what was it about your wife that made you want to marry her? Why did it work for you?”
He took time answering. “Angélique de Dampierre was attractive and born into an aristocratic Burgundian wine family. Our family had known hers all our lives, but I didn’t begin spending time with her until three years ago. That was at the time when my father’s arthritis was advancing.
“One evening after a party where the Dampierre family was in attendance, he took me aside. In private he told me he was stepping down as the head of the estate and would be making me the head. I knew he’d been cultivating me for that position from the cradle. What I didn’t know was that he expected me to marry Angélique.”
Abby sat there in stunned disbelief. “Are you saying you entered into an arranged marriage?”
Raoul nodded. “He and René Dampierre had talked it over years earlier. The union of our two families would ensure stability and bring financial security for years to come. But my father said I had to be married first and Angélique, with her aristocratic background, would make the perfect vintner’s wife.”
“That sounds so feudal.”
“If you knew my father, nothing would surprise you. Once in a while the ruthless side comes out in him, making him a formidable opponent. I had no plan to marry anyone at the time and told him he should make Jean-Marc the heir. We had some violent quarrels and I threatened to leave the estate and move to Paris.
“In fact I was in the process of packing my bags when my mother got hold of me and posed an argument that forced me to listen. The doctor had told her my father didn’t have more than a year to live. She couldn’t abide anyone else in our difficult family taking over once he was gone. She said it had to be me in charge or the Decorvet estate would fall into ruin.
“My mother is a shrewd woman with a will of iron. She comes from an old aristocratic wine family too. She understands what it takes to keep the family on top. I knew deep down as I listened to her that she was speaking the truth. Once my father passed away, there would be chaos. My grandfather couldn’t possibly run things, and he’d die watching his fifty years of unceasing work as the patriarch fall apart.”
“So you married Angélique,” Abby whispered.
There was a silence before he said, “It didn’t go well.”
“Did she know how you felt?”
“I’m sure she did.”
“But she married you anyway because she wanted to be your wife.”
At least he didn’t try to say that she was following orders too. No doubt Angélique had been in love with him for years.
“My father got what he wanted, and then miraculously didn’t die. He’s still alive trying to run things even though he put me in charge. I wouldn’t put it past him to have bribed the doctor to lie about his condition in order to get his way.”
“I can’t comprehend a parent doing that.”
“What saved any of this for me was the birth of our little girl Nicolette. She was two and half months at the time of the crash.”
A groan came out of Abby. She wished she hadn’t asked him about his marriage. She knew he would always be in pain over that. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Raoul hadn’t been married to Angélique very long. Even if it hadn’t been the ideal marriage or anything close, how could one get over losing both of them in such a horrid way?
What kind of a dream world had Abby been living in to drive here with this fabulous, enigmatic, important man in order to see something possibly written by Lord Byron? What was she hoping for now? That Raoul would fall desperately in love with her? That she’d live happily ever after with a man this tormented by family problems and tragedy?
Abby should never have mentioned his wife. She looked around the room that shouted as nothing else could how foreign his world and aristocratic background was to hers. She could never be his raison d’être. Abby needed to leave for Italy tomorrow, no matter what.
Unable to sit there any longer, she stood up. “Thank you for dinner and the opportunity to see the Salon de Dionysos. I feel very privileged that you would allow me a glimpse inside your Saint des Saints.” She’d tried to pronounce it correctly. “But it’s getting late and I’m positive you’re tired after our long drive today. I’d better go back to my room.”
Lines darkened his striking features. “Now that I’ve been honest with you, why do I get the feeling you’re running away from me already?”
He could see through her with those piercing black eyes. She started to tremble. “Because I’m questioning my own judgment. Since we arrived at the estate, nothing feels right.”
“That’s because what we felt for each other when we first met was like a clap of thunder out of a blue sky. I was reminded of a line in ‘The Young Fools’ by Verlaine.”
“What line was that?” She’d enjoyed much of the French poet’s translated work.
“Suddenly a white nape flashed beneath the branches, and this sight was a delicate feast for a young fool’s heart.”
“Raoul—” Where had he pulled that from? He never ceased to amaze her.
“The reverberations have been growing stronger with every passing minute, so don’t deny it.” He got up from the couch and reached for her with his strong hands. Their mouths were only centimeters apart.
“I don’t deny it, but I’m not looking for any kind of complication. I never want to go through the pain of betrayal again.”
She heard his sharp intake of breath. “I’m positive
