Abby hadn’t expected to run into Jean-Marc. “I don’t want to interrupt your work.”
His beguiling smile was reminiscent of Raoul’s. “I’ve just been made the new concierge for the estate. Since this is my work now, visitors are our first priority.”
“Well, thank you.”
So their father had listened to Raoul and now his brother had been given a position of importance. His compassion, even in the midst of turmoil, made Abby love him all the more.
“It’s going to rain soon. I’ll accompany you to the main domaine building. In my private office you’ll see some ancient maps of our ducal land dating from the fifteenth century.”
Abby assumed it might have been an office Raoul had used and had just relinquished in order to keep the peace.
“I’m a history buff and would love to see those.”
His dark brows lifted. “What do you do when you’re not traveling?”
“I’m a teacher of early nineteenth-century romance poets and writers at San José State University. My classes start again in the fall.”
They started walking back to the main road. He cocked his head. “Even if you are on vacation, there must be a man in your life.” Her heart jumped. Only one. “Is he anxiously awaiting your return?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because if there is no one, I would like very much to get to know you better while you’re here. Not long ago Raoul buried his heart with his wife and daughter. What you wouldn’t know is that Solange de la Croix Godard, the woman you would have met at the dinner, is waiting for him to come out of his mourning period so they can be married.”
Abby was aghast that Jean-Marc would warn her off his own brother that way when he knew nothing about their relationship. “I heard about their deaths” was all she said in a quiet tone.
They came to the domaine’s headquarters where half a dozen cars were parked. He took her inside, introducing her to several people working in the different offices, among them Félix Moirot, Raoul’s sandy haired private secretary.
“Come with me.” Jean-Marc showed her inside a huge office that was more like a museum. The maps and charts of the estate with its hectares of vines on every wall, all under glass, fascinated her. “You start in that corner. By the time you’ve made a tour of the whole room, you’ll have seen the entire Decorvet chronological history.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this!”
“I’m not surprised Raoul hasn’t shown it to you. He has too many calls on his time.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” she murmured.
The less they talked about him the better. “Do you mind if I study these for a little while?”
“Be my guest.”
He stayed at the desk to make phone calls, leaving her to examine the earliest wall hanging. It was a charter with the ducal insignia of a lion, just like the one on the gate at the entrance to the estate. The handmade drawing showed two terroirs, intricate and incredible.
The rain pounded on the roof as she moved around the room, examining each step of history. Abby marveled at the artwork. The wording of the earlier drawings was done in old French. But her heart was heavy. Raoul had said he didn’t want their relationship blighted by his complicated family. Jean-Marc had done a good job of putting a damper on this day.
He eventually walked over to her. His dark eyes were smiling. “I never saw anyone take this kind of time to look at everything.” It sounded like a genuine compliment He was quite attractive in his own way. Abby felt sorry for him. To live in Raoul’s unmatchable shadow wouldn’t have been easy.
“Only a few people in the world have a heritage like yours. It’s wonderful and different from anything I’ve ever known. I’m grateful you’ve let me browse to my heart’s content.”
“Grateful enough to let me take you for an early dinner? The rain has stopped and I need to eat.”
It was getting late. Already ten to five. Abby had to do some quick thinking. She hadn’t heard from Raoul, and she was hungry too. Why not agree with him so he wouldn’t know his remarks had gotten under her skin?
“I’d enjoy that as long as it’s close to the estate and doesn’t keep you from your work too long.”
He shook his head. “Entertaining a guest is part of the job, especially one as attractive as you.”
Oh, dear. “Thank you. You make a great tour director.” The remark was meant to put him off any ideas he had.
He led her out of the office to a silver Mercedes and unlocked it with a remote. The parking area still had puddles from the rain. She hurried to get in before he could help her, already fearing this wasn’t a good idea.
To her relief he drove them to a small bistro in the village called Le Petit Pinot Noir. She pronounced the name out loud, loving the sound of it. When he asked her why she chuckled at the sight of it, she said, “I think it’s a very clever name.”
Again, she got out before he could come around and went into the restaurant first. Jean-Marc found a table by the window and gave their order to the waitress. “I’ve ordered us boeuf bourguignon, a regional favorite.”
“That sounds good.”
He ordered a bottle of red wine and poured some for her. “Try this, then later tonight I’ll take you to our wine cellars where you can taste our superior cru.”
“I did have some at the dinner last night. I’m no connoisseur, but it was like velvet.”
“But they didn’t serve you from a fifteen-year-old bottle. That’s an experience.” His eyes traveled over her while he drank his wine. She hadn’t changed her mind about him. He was a flirt. She would simply have to see this through.
Within minutes the waitress arrived with their meal. The meat had been cooked in wine with baby onions and mushrooms. What made the difference in the flavor were
