A Vow to Secure His Legacy

‘Thank you. I’m afraid my French is non-existent.’ Under the other woman’s assessing scrutiny Imogen almost blurted that she’d learned Japanese and Indonesian at school, but stopped herself before she could babble. Instead, she pulled off the soiled gloves and dropped them on the seat where Thierry had righted the basket of cut flowers.

‘It’s important that we become better acquainted. You have married my grandson. You are part of the family now.’

Imogen searched her inflection for any hint of welcome. She found none.

‘Which is why you left Grand-père in Provence and hot-footed it up here,’ Thierry murmured. ‘It’s a delightful surprise to see you.’

Fine eyebrows arched. ‘He wasn’t up to the journey this time.’ She turned to Imogen. ‘My husband has been unwell and needs rest. But we felt it important that one of us came to welcome you into the family.’

If the gleam in those shrewd eyes was any indication, it was more a matter of sizing her up. Yet who could blame the older woman?

What had Imogen expected? To be greeted by Thierry’s family with open arms? She suspected she was doomed to disappointment in that case.

It didn’t matter what they thought of her, she reminded herself. Unless that affected her child’s future. The thought stirred Imogen’s protective instincts.

‘It’s good of you to come all this way, Madame Girard. I’m afraid the news of our marriage must have come as a surprise to Thierry’s family.’

‘And presumably to your own.’ Those keen eyes roved Imogen’s face, as if searching for clues.

‘I don’t have a family.’ The bald statement sounded more brutal than she’d intended and she read the shock on the older woman’s face. ‘I mean—’

‘Sadly, Imogen recently lost her mother and her sister.’ Warm fingers threaded through hers, and Imogen looked up to find Thierry watching her, his smile reassuring. His hand squeezed hers, and she smiled back gratefully. She wasn’t in this alone.

Nevertheless, she felt like an imposter, pretending to be his one true love, the woman he’d spend the rest of his life with.

‘I’m very sorry for your loss. That must have been very difficult.’

‘Thank you. It was...difficult.’ Could she sound any less sophisticated in front of this stylish matriarch?

‘But now you have Thierry.’

Imogen blinked. Did his grandmother think she’d married him because she was lonely? No, more likely trapped him because of his money. ‘I’m a very lucky woman.’

To her surprise, she felt Thierry’s warm fingers stroke her cheek. ‘I’m the lucky one, chérie.’ His voice dropped to that low, shivery note she hadn’t heard in so long. Since they’d shared a bed on her first visit to Paris. Imogen swallowed hard, hit by a surge of longing so strong she found herself swaying towards him. Yet his affectionate display was obviously a show for his grandmother. Thierry didn’t want to explain the exact circumstances of their marriage and nor did she.

‘You always did have luck on your side, Thierry. Now, if you’ll leave us alone, I’d like to get to know your wife a little better.’ It wasn’t a request but an order.

Thierry ignored it. ‘Let’s all go inside for coffee. I’ve no doubt Jeanne has been busy preparing something suitable from the moment you arrived.’

Imogen liked that he wanted to look after her. But she wasn’t totally helpless, even if she had turned to him when she hadn’t known what else to do.

‘We’ll come in soon,’ she assured him. ‘It would be nice if your grandmother could show me the garden. I’m sure she knows the name of those beautiful roses at the end of the walk.’ The gardener had mentioned that Madame Girard herself had overseen their planting.

‘You’re sure?’ His eyes searched her face.

She nodded.

‘Then I’ll see you both inside very soon. There’s a call I need to get back to.’

‘Go on, Thierry.’ His grandmother made a shooing motion. ‘I know I interrupted your work. We’ll be fine. I don’t intend to eat the girl.’

As soon as he was gone Madame Girard turned to her. ‘I was surprised to find him in the offices. You didn’t want a honeymoon?’

She didn’t beat around the bush, did she? But Imogen rather liked that. One of the reasons she felt uncomfortable at big social events was that she’d never excelled at meaningless small talk. Those nights in Paris with Thierry were an exception, when flirting with him had been as easy as breathing.