has laughed at you, fondling, and no one at Fontainebleau knew my true identity except Jeremy. I gather that St. Briac found out toward the end, but—"
"This must be a bad dream!" Micheline exclaimed suddenly, pulling her hands free. "A few minutes ago I was so happy! I felt as if I were coming home, that London was embracing me, because I was with you and this was the place where we would make our life together. Now I learn that I don't know you at all! You're a stranger who has deceived me!"
"Of course you know me!" Sandhurst protested. "The only difference is my surname. Michelle, I love you. Isn't that what counts?"
Tears glistened in her beautiful eyes. "How can I believe you? How can I believe anything you say, ever again?"
He raked a hand through his hair in desperation. "This isn't the place to discuss all of this, and there's a great deal that must be said. Let's go inside. You can see your rooms and freshen up, then we'll sit down and I'll try to explain how all this came about." Sandhurst gave her an engagingly hopeful smile, but Micheline dropped her eyes.
"D'accord," she sighed. "I don't seem to have any choice, do I?"
They walked side by side up the neat gravel pathways that led from the garden to a handsome arched doorway. Sandhurst was alarmed by Micheline's demeanor, for she stayed far away from him and would not even look in his direction.
Inside the great hall, with its carved paneling and beamed ceiling, an old woman and man waited to greet their master. The affection that shone in their eyes bolstered Andrew's spirits.
"Michelle, I'd like you to meet Throgmorton, my head steward, and Mistress Goodwyn, who runs Weston House for me." Smiling at the two servants, he explained, "This is Madame Micheline Tevoulere. She will be staying with us." He wanted to introduce her as his future wife, but couldn't be certain himself if that was still the case.
Mistress Goodwyn, a small, white-haired, rosy-cheeked woman, came forward first to embrace Andrew. Since she had been lady's maid to the Duchess of Aylesbury in her youth and had watched this boy come into the world, it was impossible for her to keep a respectful distance.
"Welcome home, my lord!" She gave him a smacking kiss on his cheek. "I've been worried about you!"
"I appreciate that, Nan. As you can see, I am quite well." He turned then to clasp Throgmorton's outstretched hand. The old man, who had been a page in the last duke's household, was stooped now and nearly bald, but his mind was as sharp as ever.
"We've missed you, my lord," he intoned, then allowed a warm smile to stretch over his wrinkled face. "It's good to see you home safe."
The two head servants exchanged greetings with their guest, who had been watching the previous scene with interest.
"Madame Tevoulere will need a lady's maid, Nan," Sandhurst remarked. "I was thinking of Mary. She seems a sweet girl."
"That's true, my lord, but she's had no training as a lady's maid—"
"I don't mind," Micheline interjected in her perfect, lightly accented English. "I'm not used to having my very own maid, either, so we can learn together."
Mistress Goodwyn pursed her lips. "I'll tell the girl, then. She'll be over the moon, I'll warrant!"
"Would you show Madame Tevoulere to the rose room?"
Then he looked to Throgmorton. "Bartholomew's outside. Why don't you ask him to take her belongings upstairs."
"Aye, my lord." They both nodded.
Micheline followed the old woman up a broad wooden staircase with splendidly carved newel posts, handrails, and balustrade. It was quite unlike the curving stone staircases in France.
"What a magnificent house!" Micheline said to fill the silence.
"Oh, Weston House isn't much compared to Sandhurst Manor, or Aylesbury Castle for that matter, but it's much cozier. Lord Sandhurst bought it himself, you know, with his own earnings from the horses he breeds in Gloucestershire." Reaching the top step, Mistress Goodwyn turned back to look at the young Frenchwoman. "I've served the aristocracy all my life, madame, and Lord Sandhurst is the finest nobleman I've ever known."
"It would seem that he is fortunate to have you."
"Lord Andrew's a love. Even as a child he was a love. And so handsome! If only the duke weren't so mean-spirited... and if the duchess hadn't died, Lord Sandhurst would be a happy man today, just as he was happy as a child." Mistress Goodwyn led Micheline down the corridor, still talking. "That's not