“Wait…” Julian’s voice leaped up an octave. “Are you telling me that you think Tasha’s miscarriage was a direct result of you not being forthcoming with her? That it was karma?”
“Precisely.”
“Andre, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Julian’s tone was short. “It seems to me that you feel you’ve misled your wife, and now you want to come clean and tell her about the terms for you to inherit the Renault fortune, but you’re afraid she’ll still leave you.” Julian looked at Andre and laughed.
“Do you doubt that she won’t?”
“No.” Julian shook his head and laughed. “My money’s on her dumping you.”
American idioms. Camille and Tasha were wearing off on Julian.
In the garden, Cecily held her breath while listening to Julian give Andre a pep talk. She didn’t dare breathe for fear that they’d discover her on the other side of the hedges.
Based on what Cecily was hearing, this was the evidence she’d been waiting for. This was her proof that Andre had indeed kept his wife in the dark. Dealing with a bought wife probably would’ve been easier. Valid marriages could be hard to break up—unless one party was hiding something from the other. Something like marrying them to inherit a large fortune. Tasha de Laurent wasn’t going to take this lightly. And if Cecily played her cards right, she would convince the woman that her marriage was a farce.
The hedges began to ruffle, and Cecily rushed to the closest wall and rounded the corner to hide. Standing with her back against the shrubbery, she didn’t dare peek around the corner for fear of being discovered.
She couldn’t be found out now, not when she finally had the advantage. Cecily had some planning to do. It might take her a couple of weeks to figure out exactly what to say to Tasha, but once she did, Cecily knew it would be the first step to claiming the Renault fortune as her own.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BEFORE CECILY HAD ACCEPTED THE JOB as Julian and Camille’s nanny, her initial plan had simply been to break up Andre’s marriage. But now that she’d been living among them for a few months, she thought better of it. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Andre, or cared about his or his wife’s feelings. It’s just that she’d decided he was more likely to give up one thing in exchange for another, rather than being forced to lose both. Today was the day Andre de Laurent would have to make a choice.
Cecily canvassed the hallways of Pacifique de Lumière, searching for him. Thunder roared overhead. It didn’t surprise her. When she’d come up to the main house in the golf cart this morning, the cloud cover overhead was suggestive of an impending storm. Fitting, she thought, since she was about to rain on Andre de Laurent’s parade.
On the ground floor, she found him. “Oh, Mr. Andre,” she called to him as he was about to head into the stairwell that led to the garage. “Might I have a word?”
Andre glanced over his shoulder. “Miss…” he said, and then waited for her name.
Why would he know her name? She was just a servant in his eyes. “Cecily. Please call me Cecily.”
“What can I do for you?”
She pointed to the small salon on the right. “May we speak in private?”
“Sure.” Andre opened the door and gestured for her to go inside.
He followed her into the salon, but didn’t close the door. She looked at it and waited for him to close it. She didn’t need any busybodies listening in. Finally, he got the message and shut the door.
Cecily glanced at the three large windows evenly spaced along the western wall. Outside, the sky had darkened.
Andre crossed his arms and looked at her. “All right. Why all the privacy? What can I do for you?”
“Well…” She hesitated and then met his eyes. “You and I need to come to an understanding.”
A flash of lightning lit up the darkness outside.
“Is that right?” He all but laughed. “And just what do we need to understand?”
Thunder rattled the old house.
“Well, it’s kind of complicated.” From out of nowhere, a bout of nerves hit her full blast. Breathe deep, Cecily, she told herself. She had the advantage. There was no way Andre could win, considering what she knew about his marriage.
“I’m sure you can find those well-practiced words somewhere inside the scheme you’ve concocted.”
The first patters of rain pelted the windows.
Smug bastard. “Yes.” She lifted her chin. Those damned de Laurents had always been witless and cruel. “Yes, I can.” She nodded to give herself time to corral the insulted feeling coursing through her. “What it all comes to, is this…” She cleared her throat. “You are going to give up your claim on Edouard Renault’s fortune.”
Lightning flashed and thunder roared overhead. The sky opened up and poured bucketfuls of rain against the windows.
Amusement danced across Andre’s eyes. Nothing happening outside bothered him. Not the lightning. Not the thunder. Not the rain. “What is this? Some kind of joke?”
“Not hardly.” She hoped she held her face straight enough to hide the jitters rolling around inside her stomach. Maybe it was the weather. She certainly wasn’t afraid of Andre de Laurent. “In two weeks’ time…” She sucked in a breath and went on with her plan. “You will relinquish your claim on the inheritance and turn it over to the heirs next in line.”
“And I’m guessing that you know that’s not my brother or sister.”
Another intense glare through the window preceded a stunning roll of thunder. She nodded.
“So you want me to walk away from not only my inheritance—” Andre shook his head. “—but my brother and sister’s, too?” Andre tossed his head back and laughed.
The rain continued to fall, steady and ceaseless.
“You’ll do it.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“If you want to keep that wife of yours, you will.”
“Just leave my wife out of this.” He drew his elbows in and held them tightly against his sides.
“I would…” Cecily gave him a wide grin. “Except that your inheritance depends upon her position in your life.”
“Why don’t we get to the point?” Andre suggested.
“All right.” Cecily squared her shoulders. “If you do not relinquish your claim to the Renault fortune within two weeks time, I will share your secret with your wife.”