“What happened to Monsieur Deschamps?” Ben asked.
“He was found dead a week later, floating in the Seine.”
Ben cringed as he imagined a bloated corpse with the same color hair as Remi’s and, for a moment, saw her dead in the water. It was clear that Bernard Cuvilyé was quite capable of avenging his dignity, even if it meant murder.
“My brothers are grown now, and my mother gave birth to a little girl,” Remi said, cutting into his bleak thoughts. “She gave birth to two more girls after that, too. They’re both lovely little things. My old governess used to send me their photos, but she stopped when my uncle found out.”
“What about your mother?”
Remi deflated at the mention of her mother. “I wrote to her about the wedding. She was happy to hear it, I suppose. She sent me pearls.”
He was surprised she’d even heard from her mother. “But nothing from your father?”
She shook her head.
“What a coward,” Ben snarled.
“Can you blame him?” Remi asked. “I cannot imagine how it hurt him to learn the truth.”
Even so, it did not excuse her father’s reaction, Ben thought. “And Arnaud?”
“My uncle? He was welcoming enough. He certainly did not have to take me in.” Remi turned from the bookcases and wandered to one of the armchairs close to the fire. Ben followed her, leaning against the mantle as she sat. He could not bring himself to sit yet.
“Then why did he?”
“For the money, I suppose.” Remi shrugged, watching the fire. She pulled her knees up to her chest. “My uncle received a stipend each month worth a generous sum for my care. Rather than disown me publicly, he’d been gracious enough to keep it quiet for the family’s benefit.”
Hush money, Ben thought. It had nothing to do with graciousness and everything to do with the cost of her upkeep. To Ben, it seemed that Arnaud cared little for family and held it over his brother in order to keep the money coming in. It was doubtful Remi ever saw a penny of it; something told him the money wasn’t hers to spend.
“I still think your father is a coward.”
Remi stilled.
“To simply throw you away,” Ben closed his eyes, thinking back to the beach and the day he’d met her. “I cannot fathom it, Remi.”
“I do understand fathers to some degree,” she said gently. “I wasn’t aware that Edgar never wrote to you.”
“It’s in the past now.”
How hard it must have been for her to move elsewhere, to become someone else entirely to people who were not really family. Her worth was a stipend, and no matter what the sum was, her value somehow depreciated because of her parentage, through no fault of her own.
That sounds familiar, doesn’t it? A voice in the back of Ben’s mind taunted.
“You must believe what I said before to be true,” she pleaded. “I did not want to marry your father, but in a way, he gave me freedom. It was a kind gesture.”
“An arranged marriage is hardly freedom,” Ben said, a bit too harshly.
Remi did not flinch. “I know what my life would look like now if I had fought my uncle. Doubtless I would have become a maid, left to polish Beline’s silver.”
“Could Elise not have brought you on as her personal maid?” He was reaching, he knew; to even suggest such a thing felt insensitive to her feelings. Immediately, he regretted asking.
“Elise will be leaving the Isle once she’s married.” Remi paused, suddenly drained of color. “She says New York, perhaps, but I could never be so lucky as to accompany her. My uncle would never allow it, and I shudder to think what might happen to me if the man I called my father ever learned that I left this place.”
“I would never let him hurt you,” Ben said fiercely, drawing her attention back to him.
She smiled a little at that. “Perhaps not now, but you’re only here because I didn’t fight my uncle. We would be passing strangers in a large crowd if we were still living our lives as they were before all of this.” Her head tilted as she spoke, exposing the soft curve where her neck dipped into her shoulder. The ruff of her nightgown hid the secret shape of the collarbone beneath.
Ben squeezed his hands tightly at his sides as he fought the desire to lean in and breathe in the scent of her skin. The need to dispose of her nightdress altogether grew the longer her eyes lingered on his.
“You’re right.” Finally, Ben sought out a seat and sank into it easily. He tried to focus his mind on places less tempting than the shoulder of her nightdress. “Still, if you wanted to leave, I would not stop you from going.”
“And live with a newlywed Elise?” The surprise in her tone was enough to make him second-guess the offer.
“No. I suppose that wouldn’t benefit anyone.” Ben tried to imagine Remi managing Elise. In his mind, her cousin became Beline, and that was a fate he would not wish on his worst enemy.
“In hindsight,” Remi said, “my predicament isn’t so awful. Your father was kind, even if our arrangement was a bit unusual.”
“Unusual?” Ben asked.
“I never…” Remi’s voice trailed off. “....we never...”
“Please.” A blush crept up Ben’s neck and spread across his cheeks. Quickly, he covered his face with his hands, scrubbing at his eyes. “There’s no need to explain.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “He made it clear to me that his heart still belonged to your mother.”
“My mother,” Ben repeated. He felt the painting’s eyes call to him, scolding as they peered down for being so callous. He smiled inwardly at the idea of his mother meeting the current Madame.
“I always thought she was a beautiful lady,” Remi mused aloud, drawing his attention back to her. “Edgar once said you looked like him in his youth, but I think you are your mother’s son.”
