Song of the Heart - Alexa Aston Page 0,20

feet up his chilled limbs.

A servant entered and Garrett recognized him from his previous dealings with de Picassaret, although he couldn’t recall the retainer’s name.

In stilted English, the stout man said, “Comte de Picassaret has been detained, my lord. He will arrive shortly. May I get anything for you?”

Garrett shook his head. “No, thank you.”

The man nodded and left, leaving the door ajar. Garrett heard him pause in the hallway and begin speaking rapidly in French. Though he could hear two voices, he couldn’t make out everything said. The words came rapidly, spoken more as the French did in the north. Still, he was able to ascertain that the comte was terribly angry. Something about plans being ruined and responsibility being questioned.

Frustrated at his lack of understanding, Garrett closed his eyes and imagined himself back in Bordeaux, the lazy sunshine of the south permeating him. Speech there was more melodic and slow. Garrett had picked up much more of the language while there than he ever had from his tutors. Unfortunately, he had rare opportunities to use it since he despised any time spent at court, so he’d lost his command of the nuances of the language since he’d returned to England.

Eventually, he heard sharp steps approaching and sat up quickly. Henri de Picassaret strode in. Garrett was shocked by the Frenchman’s appearance.

The man had aged half a score since they’d met the previous year in France. Henri’s skin was even paler than before. Deep wrinkles lined his face. His ice blue eyes were bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept for several nights. His iron gray hair had a dull cast to it. Always lean despite his ample belly, the comte now seemed gaunt. As usual, his thin mouth was set in a tight line.

Garrett rose and offered his hand. Henri shook it perfunctorily. Both men took seats across from one another.

Henri spoke first. “I hear that your wife ran off, Montayne.” His eyes flicked rapidly over Garrett, who sat stunned by the Frenchman’s opening remark.

Garrett stood abruptly, his fists clenched. He fought to keep his anger from erupting at the older man’s cruel words. “That topic, de Picassaret, is not open for discussion. Good day.”

He moved to leave but Henri stood and clutched his arm tightly. For such a frail-looking man, his strength was surprising.

“No, my apologies, monsieur. I was thoughtless. I am sure that you grieve for your lost wife.”

Garrett was slightly mollified but did not take his chair.

“Come,” Henri said, his tone now conciliatory. “Let us not talk of wives when there is business to conduct.” He paused. “I merely heard that an acquaintance’s wife had recently run off. The man is beside himself and has no idea where to begin looking.” He offered Garrett an apologetic smile. “I thought you might advise me, for my friend, since you have experienced something similar.”

Garrett glared at Henri. “Some things are best left private,” he said, his mouth set. They stared at each other for several moments before taking their seats.

Henri opened the discussion again. “I am ready to offer you an unusual business proposal, Lord Montayne.” Henri’s eyes glittered. “It is one that you must accept immediately, however, for I am to return to my home shortly.”

“What do you propose?”

Henri smiled. “I would like to go into a partnership with you, mon ami. You have a good head for the business and you know wine. Your vineyards in Bordeaux regularly bring in a substantial profit.”

“My family has been in the wine business for many years now. What kind of partnership do you seek, Monsieur le Comte?”

“I know you trade your wines not only in England but also ship to the Hanseatic ports and the Low Countries. I would like my champagnes to also go to these places.”

Garrett arched his brows. “On my ships?”

Henri nodded. “In exchange for our wines traveling to their destinations together, I would give you control of one-fifth of my vineyards outside Reims for a period of ten years.”

Garrett considered the proposition, which differed greatly from the Frenchman’s previous offer. “I would own part of your vineyard in exchange for your champagne accompanying my wines. Do I understand you correctly?”

“Yes, you have grasped the essence of my offer. We can work out the details, of course, at a later time.”

Henri waited for Garrett’s reply but Garrett rose and began to pace around the room, his hands locked behind him.

He stopped abruptly. “I know little to nothing about champagne and really have no inclination to begin