A Million Different Ways (Horn Duet 1)

“I’m…sorry. I must have the wrong room,” I apologized, looking around awkwardly. He examined me as if I was the strange part of this picture.

His lips pinched. “No. You don’t.”

“Who’s at the door, Olivier?”

He turned his bristly, white head towards the jovial voice. “It’s Vera.” The way he said my name made me acutely aware that I may have interrupted something.

“Well, let her in, chérie,” she said as she opened the door wider. Pushing him out of the way, she greeted me with a warm smile. I shifted from foot to foot self-consciously.

“Mrs. Arnaud, umm, may we speak privately?”

“Of course, let’s go to the kitchen.” She turned her attention to the man in the room. “Olivier, you can watch your show. I need to speak to Vera.”

I bit my lip, fighting a smile, when I heard him whisper in French, “Hurry up.”

She wrapped a motherly arm around my slim shoulders and together we made our way to the kitchen. We both chose to remain quiet. Once there, she went directly to the stove.

“I’ll make some tea,” she announced.

I sat at the oak table and fought for courage to begin, words deserting me when I needed them most. Consumed by shame, I fidgeted with my nightgown, twisting the fabric until I heard a rip. She placed a cup in front of me and poured hot water from the kettle. Her soft eyes searched my face as she took the seat at my elbow.

“It’s chamomile, drink all of it,” she ordered gently. I took a sip and looked into her patient eyes.

“I have something to tell you that I am deeply ashamed about…I don’t know where to begin.”

She took my hand in hers and rubbed it. “Do you love him?” Her voice was sweet and comforting. Well that did it––the dam broke. Tears gushed out of my eyes. My jaw trembled with the strain of fighting the emotion from exploding out of me.

“You know?”

“Chérie, nothing goes on under my roof that I don’t know about.”

“And the others?”

She shook her head. “Just Olivier.”

An avalanche of words rolled out of me. “I’m so sorry. I am so sorry. You have been nothing but kind to me and I betrayed you. I never meant to lie, but the situation is so complicated and unexpected…and…”

“Vera…Vera, stop. Listen to me, there is nothing for you to be sorry about. I’m not sorry that Sebastian is himself again. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. I’m not sorry that he stopped taking those damn pills, or that he stopped getting drunk…I’m definitely not sorry that he stopped sleeping with that viper.” My eyes grew even wider. She knew about Paisley––of course. “And I’m definitely not sorry that he finally has someone that really cares for him. Not the money or the social status.” Aching sobs bullied their way up my throat. “Don’t worry about the picture. He loves you. I’m certain of it,” she continued.

“You’re so good to me and I…”

“Are you in love with him?”

“Yes, but…my past. I wish I could explain…I don’t want to hurt him with it.”

“The only way you can hurt him is if you leave him. I’m reluctant to say this but––it may just be worse than when his wife died.” There wasn’t the smallest evidence of exaggeration in her expression. She believed it.

“He wants us to go public and I’m petrified of what that may do to him, to the bank.”

“Tell him everything. He’ll fix it.”

I shook my head vigorously. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t? Vera, listen to me, one virtue that Sebastian lacks is forgiveness. If you deceive him in any way, he may never forgive you. His mother made sure of that. She taught him too many painful lessons about women being lying manipulators.”

The conviction in her words made me pause. Food for thought. There was so much to consider my head felt like it was going to explode.

“I don’t know how I could ever repay your kindness. I don’t know where I would be without all your help.” She smiled tenderly before wrapping me in her soft arms, her comfort and encouragement seeping into my bones.

“Make him happy. Make yourself happy. That’s how you can repay me.”

* * *

Something tickled my nose. I cracked open my eyes and was met by a dense wall of black. Overcome with exhaustion, they drifted closed again. I felt a hand brush my hair and alarm bells went off. I jerked awake.

“Easy, it’s me.”

I sighed in relief at the sound of that sexy, raspy voice and sat up. Feeling around, my hand collided with the immovable mass of his chest. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, close enough that I could feel his breath on my temple and cheek, as he sought my lips. His hand reached out and cupped my face.