Echoes Page 0,52

the past, they both had all they had ever wanted now.

7

BY THE TIME DAPHNE WAS TWO, AMADEA WAS TEN, AND there was no doubt in anyone's mind that she was Amadea's baby, just as Amadea claimed. She constantly fussed over her, indulged her, took her everywhere. She was like a live doll that Amadea never ceased to play with. Amadea was an extremely efficient little mother. Beata had nothing to do whenever Amadea was around. The only time she left her baby sister was when she went to school, and when she went to visit her father at the stables. At ten Amadea was an extremely proficient rider. She had won several jumping competitions and knew a great deal about horses. Antoine was justifiably proud of her, and adored both his daughters, as he did Beata. He was an extraordinary father and husband. Beata knew without a doubt that she was a lucky woman.

It was June, just after the girls had turned ten and two, two months before, that Antoine received a telegram, followed by a letter. Without ever speaking to him again, or forgiving him for the unpardonable crime he felt Antoine had committed, his father had died suddenly. And no matter how angry his father was at him, as the oldest son, the lands and fortune, as well as the title, had been passed to Antoine. He walked into the house late one afternoon, holding the telegram, with a startled expression.

“Is something wrong?” They knew each other well, and Beata was instantly worried.

“You've just become a countess.” It took a moment to register, and then she understood. She knew what it meant to him to have remained estranged from his father. And now nothing would ever change that. Antoine counted it as an immeasurable loss.

“I'm sorry,” she said softly, and then came to hold him. He clung to her for a long time, and then sighed and sat down. The telegram said that the funeral had been the week before. They hadn't even had the grace to let him attend it. The telegram was from his father's lawyer.

“I want to see my brother,” he said, looking distracted. “This has gone on for too long. We have to fix this. I have to go to Dordogne to see the lawyers.” There were decisions to be made, properties to run. He could not remain an absentee landlord. He had inherited the château and everything that went with it. And from the last he knew of it, there was a respectable fortune, a small portion of which would pass to his brother Nicolas. In fact, just in the few moments since he'd heard the news, Antoine had decided that he wanted to share the fortune equally with him. The title was Antoine's, and the land. But contrary to tradition, he thought the money should be evenly split. He had more than enough now to be able to afford to be generous with him. “I'll have to speak to Gérard tomorrow. I want to go to France in the next few weeks. I have no idea how long I'll have to stay there.” But they both knew that their days at the Daubignys' château were over. They had spent a wonderful eight years there, but as Comte de Vallerand, Antoine had his own responsibilities. After being banished for eleven years, it was time for the prodigal son to go home now. And overnight, Beata had become a countess. It was a lot to absorb, and Antoine knew he would have to explain it to Amadea.

Antoine spoke to Gérard first. They had a long talk over breakfast the next morning. Antoine agreed to stay for the next few weeks, and after he spoke to the lawyers in France, he promised to come back to Germany for at least a month, to find and train a replacement. He had several suggestions, which sounded reasonable to Gérard. But he was devastated to lose him. They had been friends for years, and Antoine had been a genius with his stables. He had the most important horse farm in Europe. Their champions were famous.

Two days later, knowing that their long alliance was about to end, Antoine suggested to Gérard that they go out to try two new stallions. Antoine had just bought them for him at auction. They were highly spirited and spectacularly beautiful. Amadea watched them as they left the barn, and complained that her father wouldn't allow her to go with them. Instead, she went