thought, he—he knows I’m still a virgin. And I wish I’d died before he told me so.
But you were the one who told him, said a small cold voice in her head. You let it slip the last time he was here. And he said he’d be patient. How could you have forgotten that?
She’d tried to block out every detail of their previous encounter, but that was something she should have remembered. Because it spelled danger.
‘I understand now why you pushed him into the lake,’ Marc added.
‘I didn’t push him,’ Helen said icily. ‘He slipped.’
‘Quel dommage,’ he murmured. ‘And, no—he will certainly not come back,’ he went on calmly. ‘But for a reason far removed from the ones you have given.’
She said, ‘Oh?’ her voice wooden.
The dark eyes studied her. ‘He did not tell you, peut-être, the identity of his new fiancée? Then I shall. Her name is Amanda Clayburn.’
‘Clayburn?’ Helen repeated, bewildered. ‘You—you mean she’s related to Sir Donald Clayburn, the chairman of the bank?’
‘His only daughter.’ His grin was cynical. ‘Your Nigel is an ambitious man, ma mie. He has chosen money and the fast track to the boardroom.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. And, anyway, he doesn’t need to do that. He has money of his own.’
‘Which he prefers to keep, sans doute.’ He bent and added another handful of twigs to the fire. ‘But it is all true. I have a colleague with contacts at the bank, and he informs me their affaire has been an open secret for weeks. She is wild and spoiled, this Amanda, and her father, they say, is glad she is marrying before she disgraces him openly.’
‘Obviously a marriage made in heaven.’ The words cut at her, but she refused to wince. Instead, she threw back her head. ‘Monteagle and Nigel—the two things I care most about in the world—I’ve lost them both.’
‘I notice,’ he said, ‘you place the house before your fiancé.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Nigel said that too. He said that because of Monteagle I would never be capable of loving anyone properly. All in all, it was a pretty comprehensive condemnation. And do you know the worst of it, Monsieur Delaroche? You—you were here to watch it happening.’ She almost choked on the words. ‘You—of all the people in the world. You’re like some terrible jinx—do you know that?—because each time you appear in my life, everything goes wrong.’
She punched her fist into the palm of her other hand. ‘Well, you’ve had your fun, monsieur, if that’s what you came for, so now you can go. I need to be on my own. Even you should be able to appreciate that,’ she added burningly.
His own glance was cool. ‘You have a strange idea of how I choose to amuse myself, ma chère,’ he drawled. ‘And, although I am desolate to grieve you further, I must tell you I have no intention of leaving yet. Because I came not just to warn you, but also to offer my help.’
‘Oh, of course,’ she said. ‘You spoke up for me at the committee—you and your Dutch colleague. I—I suppose I should thank you.’
‘If we had succeeded, perhaps,’ he said. ‘But as matters stand I do not expect you to torture yourself with an attempt to be grateful.’
‘But why should you do that?’ she asked. ‘When you knew what the verdict would be? You don’t look like someone who supports lost causes.’
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps I felt you did not deserve to lose yet again.’ He gave her a measured look. ‘So—what do you plan to do now? Will you take advantage of Monsieur Newson’s offer—if it still stands?’
‘I’d rather burn the place to the ground.’
‘The insurance company might find that suspicious,’ he murmured.
‘Probably—if we were insured,’ Helen said shortly, and for the first time saw him look taken aback.
‘You like to take risks,’ he said.
‘Sometimes I don’t have a choice in the matter. I found my grandfather had let the premiums lapse.’ She drank the rest of her tea and put down the mug. ‘And now please leave. I’ve answered enough questions, and you have no further excuse to be here.’
‘Except my own inclination,’ he told her brusquely. ‘And I ask again—what will you do next?’
‘I shall open the house up for visitors, as I do every Saturday.’ Her smile was swift and hard as she rose to her feet.
‘I think no one would blame you if, for once, the house remained shut.’
‘I’d blame myself,’ she said. ‘Because Monteagle needs every penny I can earn. And, anyway, I’d rather have something to do.’ She paused. ‘Please don’t feel you have to take the tour again, or pay any more visits here,’ she added pointedly. ‘I’m sure you have places to go and people to see, so let’s both of us get on with our lives. Shall we?’
But he ignored that. ‘Is that truly how you see your future?’ His brows lifted. ‘Welcoming crowds of the curious and the bored pour toujours? Serving them tea?’
She met his gaze. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘If I have to. I told you—I’ll do anything to save Monteagle.’
‘Will you?’ he asked softly. ‘I wonder, ma mie. I very much wonder. For example, will you have dinner with me this evening?’
Her lips parted in sheer astonishment. She said unevenly, ‘My God, you never give up, do you? Do you think I’m in any mood to listen to another of your insensitive—tasteless invitations? Can’t you understand that I’ve just lost the man I love?’
‘You are planning to starve to death as an act of revenge?’ He had the gall to sound faintly amused.
‘No,’ Helen said stormily. ‘But I’d rather die than have dinner with you.’
He was laughing openly now, to her fury. ‘A fate worse than death, ma belle? I always thought that involved far more than simply sharing a meal.’
She marched to the door and held it open. ‘Just get out of my house and don’t come back.’
‘Your house,’ Marc said softly, unmoved and unmoving. ‘And how much longer will you be able to call it that, unless you find financial support—and quickly? You said you would do anything to save Monteagle. So, can you afford to reject my offer of assistance unheard?’
There was silence in the room, broken only by the crackle of the burning wood and the swift flurry of her own ragged breathing.
She felt like a small animal, caught in the headlights of an approaching juggernaut. Only she’d been trapped, instead, by her own words, she realised bitterly.
She said thickly, ‘What—kind of help?’
‘We will
