Gerard stopped at the river and withdrew his handkerchief. It was Adele’s, the only one she owned, pure silk, trimmed in Brussels lace and monogrammed AC. Gerard had carefully removed the A and left the C since he was now a Courtalain.
He wet the handkerchief and took it back to Bianca. He knelt beside her. “There is a smudge on your cheek,” he said quietly. When she didn’t move, he said, “Allow me,” took her chin in his hand, and carefully began to wipe away the dirt.
Bianca thought it was odd that she felt no revulsion at Gerard’s touch. After all, he was a man. “You’ll…get your handkerchief dirty,” she stuttered.
He gave her a smile of great tolerance. “What is silk next to a beautiful woman’s skin?”
“Beautiful?” She opened her eyes very wide. Their blueness was almost obscured by her fat cheeks. The dimple in her left cheek was no longer visible but lost in the doughy plumpness. “No one has called me beautiful in a long time.”
“Strange,” Gerard said. “I would think your husband—surely a lady of your beauty is married—would tell you that every day.”
“My husband hates me,” Bianca said flatly.
Gerard considered this for a moment. He could feel the woman’s need for a friend, a need to talk. He shrugged. He had nothing else to do today, and besides, sometimes the things lonely women told him became useful. “And who is your husband?”
“Clayton Armstrong.”
Gerard lifted one eyebrow. “The owner of this place?”
“All of it,” Bianca sighed. “At least what is left of it. He refuses to work it just because he hates me. He says he refuses to kill himself just so I can buy a few trinkets.”
“Trinkets?” he encouraged.
“I am certainly frugal enough. I buy nothing I don’t need—a few simple clothes, a carriage, a few furnishings for the house, nothing a lady of my station doesn’t need.”
“It is a shame you have such a selfish husband.”
Bianca stared across the river. “It’s all her fault. If she hadn’t thrown herself at my husband, none of this would have happened.”
“But I thought Nicole was once married to Mr. Armstrong.” Gerard made no pretense of not knowing whom she meant.
“She was, but I fixed her. She thought she could take away what was mine, what I worked so hard for, but she couldn’t.”
Gerard looked about him, to the tobacco fields to his left. “What exactly does Armstrong own?”
Bianca’s eyes came alive. “He’s rich, or could be if he’d only do some work. There’s a very nice house, except it’s too small.”
“And Nicole gave all this up?” he asked, half to himself.
Bianca’s anger made her cheeks flush. “She didn’t give it up. We played a game, and I won. That’s all.”
She had Gerard’s interest now. “I wish you’d tell me about this game. I’d certainly like to hear about it.”
He sat and listened with rapt attention to Bianca’s story. He was amazed at her cleverness. Here was someone he could understand. He laughed when she told how she bribed Abe to kidnap Nicole. He was almost in awe of her when she spoke of planting herself in Clay’s bed.
Bianca had never had anyone in America listen to her before, and certainly no one who showed any interest. She’d always thought her manipulation of Clay and Nicole was extraordinarily clever, but no one else had shown any interest. When Gerard seemed so eager, she went on to tell him about paying Oliver Hawthorne to impregnate her. She shuddered at the memory, told how she had to drug herself to be able to stand the man’s touch.
Gerard burst out laughing. “It wasn’t even Armstrong’s child! How marvelous! Nicole must have been insane when she found out her dear husband was sleeping with someone else, had even made a baby.” On impulse, he grabbed Bianca’s fat hand and kissed the taut skin. “It’s too bad you lost the child. It would have served Armstrong right if the child looked like a neighbor instead of him.”
“Yes,” Bianca said dreamily. “I would have liked for him to look like a fool, like he’s made me appear.”
“You could never look like a fool. It’s the people who do not appreciate you who are fools.”
“Yes, oh yes,” she whispered. “You do understand.”
The two of them sat quietly for a moment. Bianca felt as if she’d found her first friend, someone who was interested in her. Everyone else seemed to be on Clay’s or Nicole’s side.
As for Gerard, he wasn’t sure what to do with Bianca’s revelations, but he knew that, somehow, they’d be useful. “Let me introduce myself. I am Gerard Gautier, of the Courtalain family.”