Julian’s helpless laughter wrapped him in doubt. “I hardly think this is America’s fault, Papa.”
“Then your American fiancée.” He threw his hands in the air. “You would never have run out on a dinner party before.”
“Before what?” Julian’s temper flared and fueled him with confidence. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone badmouthing Camille. Not even Papa. “Before I became bewitched by the seductive American? Before I passed on Madeleine? Before I grew up?”
Papa’s nostrils flared.
But it didn’t stop Julian. “Which is it father?”
Julian knew Papa didn’t like it when he used that cold tone and called him father, any more than Julian liked being called boy.
“Which is it that’s really got you so upset, Papa?” Julian dared to make demands upon his father.
Papa stared at him with those typically vacant brown eyes filling with the resentment of defeat.
Seeing concession in Papa’s eyes bolstered Julian’s poise. “How could you bring Madeleine here, knowing I was bringing home my fiancée?” he asked. “She’ll be my wife by the end of the week.”
“End of the week, huh?” His eyes traveled a slow journey to meet Julian’s gaze, and suggested he knew Julian’s secret.
“End of the week.” Julian reiterated. It was true. Technically. She would be his wife by the end of the week, according to French law.
“You’re losing your touch, boy.” Papa’s sneering laughter fractured Julian’s composure.
There he goes again. Julian bit back the frustration. “All you need to know, Papa, is that Camille and I will have a traditional French ceremony at the end of the week. And until then, we will refrain from living together as husband and wife.”
Papa’s face lit with hope. “Does this mean your American marriage was not consummated?”
Julian knew what Papa was thinking and he couldn’t let that happen. “No, father. Our American marriage is quite legal.”
He challenged his father by standing first. This was usually Papa’s step. It indicated the conversation was over. Julian turned his back on his father and moved toward the door, not waiting for Papa’s customary dismissal.
“Where are you going?” Papa bellowed, his eleventh-hour attempt at re-seizing control.
Julian wrapped his hand around the doorknob and paused, looking over his shoulder. “I’m going to find Andre, Papa.” He opened the door. “I’m sending him to America to get Camille’s friend.”
“Are her parents coming to the wedding?” Suspicion raided Papa’s words.
“Camille was raised by her grandmother, who’s no longer with us.” Remorse crept around Julian and threatened to suffocate him. “She never had the opportunity to meet her parents...that she can remember.” He bowed his head and moved into the hallway and shut the door.
Julian was always careful in his choice of words when talking to his father. He made it a point never to tell the man out-and-out lies. This time was no exception.
He passed Monique in the hallway. Claudette had assigned the housekeeping assistant as Camille’s attendant. Julian agreed. It was a good choice.
“Have you seen my brother?” he asked, moving past her.
“Yes, sir. He’s in the smaller, east dining room.”
“Very good. Thank you.”
The unplanned pleasantry surprised Julian as much as it must have shocked the maid. He didn’t show graciousness to the servants. Why thank them for doing their job? They were duly compensated. Wasn’t a monetary gain thanks enough? Julian had always thought so. But he’d gotten so used to Camille offering thanks to virtually everyone during the last couple of days that it seemed to come naturally. She had a kind word for anyone who was remotely nice to her, no matter the circumstances.
Camille was definitely having an effect over him. Whether or not it was good remained to be seen.
Julian stopped at the dining room’s entryway and found Andre, Lecie, Claudette, and Camille having breakfast. No one seemed to notice him. Either that, or he was being ignored.
Andre was laughing, Claudette was gushing, and Lecie was declaring Camille’s sentiments as, “the most romantic thing ever.”
Good lord, what had she been telling them? Julian cleared the fear out of his throat.
Everyone glanced up and stopped.
“Julian.” Lecie was the brave one, rising and coming to his side. She laced her arm around his and led him to Camille’s side at the table. “Camille was just explaining why you two missed the dinner party last night.”
She pushed him into the empty chair beside Camille.
“I guess you really can’t fault a man when he’s that romantic.” Claudette smiled and flashed Julian her ‘you’re forgiven’ face.
Julian looked at Camille, smiled and winked. Whatever she’d said to get him back into his step-mother’s good graces—he could kiss her. Again.
“Julian,” Lecie smiled, returning to her seat at the table, “Mother and I are going to take Camille into town to arrange some wedding details.”
He glanced at Camille, hoping that was okay.
“It’s going to be fun.” Camille assured him with confidence.
“All right.” He checked his watch. 8:30 am. “Could you please have her back by three?” he said to no one in particular before turning to Camille. “We have plans this evening.”
She inspected him with a questioning look. He leaned in and kissed her cheek and then whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry. I’m looking out for you.” Julian paused beside her ear, brushed his lips over her cheek again and moved away.
A weak smile turned the corners of her lips. “I’ll be here.”
Julian focused on Andre. “I need you to take the jet to California.”
“California?” Andre grunted. “I don’t want to go to California.” The behavior reminded Julian of Andre during his toddler years.
“It’s not up for discussion, Andre.”
“Why am I going to America?” Andre did nothing to temper his dissatisfaction.
“You’re going to pick up Camille’s friend, Tasha.”
His face brightened. “Is she married?”
“No,” Camille said.
“Is she cute?”
“She’s very cute.” Camille paused, a bit of pity for Andre washing over her. Especially if Tasha saw him as entertainment while she was visiting. “You have no idea just how cute.”