Free Jack Chiltern's Wife (1999) by Mary Nichols Page B

she said slowly. ‘But surely, when you are stopped, you could simply say you had left your wife at home.’
    ‘I could, but how would that help you, my dear? You want to get into Paris, don’t you?’
    ‘Yes, of course, but to be your wife …’
    ‘In name only, of course. The last thing I want is an emotional entanglement, I promise you.’
    ‘No more do I,’ she retorted. ‘Neither do I wish to become embroiled in anything illegal or disreputable. I know nothingabout you. Who are you? What are you doing in France? Are you French? You certainly speak it very fluently.’
    He smiled. ‘You should have asked those questions long ago, before we ever left Calais. It is too late now, don’t you think?’
    ‘I thought I could trust you.’
    ‘Trust is a two-way thing, my dear. It must work both ways or it does not work at all. So, think carefully. Do you still trust me?’
    She looked at him with her head on one side and considered the question. He
had
been arrogant and conceited, he
had
taken advantage of her naivety to kiss her, he
had
taunted her,
had
been tyrannical and would no doubt be so again but, in spite of all that, she was grateful for his help. Without it, they would never have left Calais. ‘I suppose I must.’
    He laughed. ‘Hardly wholehearted assurance, but no matter. We go on together, eh,
ma petite
?’
    ‘I do not seem to have much choice.’
    ‘Then listen carefully to what I tell you.’
    She put her knife and fork down and listened as he outlined his plan, a plan which filled her with trepidation but also gave her a surge of excitement, as if new doors were being opened to her, doors to new experiences, new delights, perhaps new horrors, and it was up to her which she opened.
    He emphasised that he would be on hand to support and protect her, but she must follow his lead and do exactly as he said. ‘There must be no faltering,’ he said. ‘Nor must you behave haughtily, however provoked. You must remember you are not of genteel birth— nothing will inflame the Guard more than an aristo pretending to be a peasant. And Judith is your mother, not your servant, is that clear?’
    ‘Yes, yes, but my French is not very good.’
    ‘That could be a problem … we shall have to admit you are English. I married you on a visit to England several years ago.You never think of it now, but cleave to France and the new administration.’
    ‘Do you? Cleave to the new regime, I mean.’
    ‘Jacques Faucon certainly does. He is fanatical about it.’
    ‘But Jack Chiltern?’
    ‘Jack Chiltern does not exist. From now on, we will never mention that name.’ He stood up and held his hand out to her. ‘I suggest you retire for the night. We have to be away from here by first light. I am afraid you will have to leave your baggage behind, Lucie will take care of it for you until we all come back here, God willing.’ He raised her hand to his lips. ‘Goodnight and
au revoir
, Miss Harston. Tomorrow I shall greet citoyenne Faucon,
n’est-ce pas
?’
    Kitty went up to her room in a daze, the feel of his lips still tingling on the back of her hand, his soft voice saying goodnight still echoing in her ears. How could he do this to her, make her feel as though she were melting away? She did not want to sleep, she wanted to savour it. But warmth, good food and wine, and the fatigue induced by five days of uncomfortable travelling overcame her and she slept soundly.
    ‘What I want to know is what have we got ourselves into?’ Judith demanded, the following morning. ‘I never thought I should have to dress in rags and pretend to be your mother while you passed yourself off as that … that charlatan’s wife. How could you agree? How could you think I would agree?’
    ‘If you don’t want to come, you could stay here with Lucie …’
    ‘No, I could not!’ Judith rounded on her. ‘If you think I would be so unmindful of my duty, you are mistaken. I came on this jaunt to look after you, and look after