Page 53

Bernard nodded, his lips pursed and his bushy eyebrows crowding his eyes. “Did he tell you she bore children, both here in the twenty-first century and somewhere in about the tenth century?”

O-kay. So…what? Cordelia had kin. Both here and in the past. Grace wasn’t certain of the relevance.

“Did you see the portrait in the hall?” asked Bernard. “The one of the woman with two different colored eyes?”

“Yes. It’s Constance, Alain’s ancestor. I told you that.”

“It’s an inherited trait. As is the gift of second sight.” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he stared straight at Grace. “Cordelia has two different colored eyes, too.”

Grace sat back. “What are you saying, Bernard? That Constance was one of Cordelia’s children?” She laughed. “I don’t think the Kings have a monopoly on second sight.” She turned to Alain, and the laughter died on her lips. “Alain?” He was staring at Bernard with a ferocity she’d never witnessed in him. Not even when he’d confronted Maxime the night they’d arrived. Was Bernard right? She stood up and tugged at Alain’s hand. “I need to talk to you. In the hall.”

He put down his wineglass and followed her without protest. “Grace—”

Grace closed the door behind them and paced the floor. “Is it true?”

“Not quite.”

She halted and stared up at him, the pain in her chest making it difficult to breathe. “What do you mean, not quite?”

“Constance was not one of Cordelia’s children.”

Her relief at his words made her almost shaky.

“She was her granddaughter.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Alain reached for Grace, but she pulled away.

“How could you not tell me? This, of all things?” She pointed at the closed door. “I spoke for you in there.” She turned away from him, her arms wrapped around her body.

“Grace, please.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. She brushed him off. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t hiding it from you. It just…never crossed my mind to tell you.”

She spun on him, incredulous. “It never crossed your mind? That you are Cordelia’s descendant? Not once? We’ve only been reading through Cordelia’s grimoire for the last week. It didn’t occur to you it was information I might like to know? That it might influence my decision to help you?”

Betrayal burned in her eyes, and it cut him to the quick. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Oui, I should’ve told you.” He stepped closer and took heart when she didn’t back away this time. “It doesn’t change me. And it changes nothing between us.”

“Us? Is there an us, Alain? Apart from…” She gestured toward the east wing.

It was his turn to flinch. “You think what we have is only—?”

“What am I supposed to think? How is this any different, how am I any different to other women you’ve had in your—?” She held up her hand. “You know what? It doesn’t matter right now. The point is, I trusted you.”

It did matter. It was everything. She was his everything. The only woman, the only person who could calm the storm inside of him. “You can trust me, Grace. You can trust me a lot more than you can your stepfather, that I guarantee you.”

“What are you saying?” She jerked out of his grasp. “Bernard’s been good to me and my mama. He’s been like a father to me, even if he is a King. And I’ve known him a lot longer than I’ve known you.”

“Grace—”

She turned toward the room. “I need to check on my mama.” She blocked him from following her. “She’s been through a lot. The last thing she needs is unfounded accusations about her husband.”

She shut him out and turned the lock. He rested his forehead against the door. He wanted to go in there and beg, plead—anything to wipe the disappointment from her eyes. To convince her they had something special. He eyed the door. He could break it down.

“You look like you’re contemplating doing something you’ll regret.” Nathalie detached herself from the shadows. “How about I keep watch? The boys are in the hall. Go pound Maxime into the training mat or something.”

Alain opened his mouth to protest, then changed his mind. He stumbled down the stairs and into the hall, closing the door behind him with a bang, leaned against it and stared up at the ceiling.

“Well, that doesn’t look good,” said Louis around a mouthful of pain au chocolat.