“I’m warning you,” she said.
He giggled with glee and rubbed himself excitedly against her. A cool draft against her legs told Zoë her skirts had reached her thighs. Which gave her much greater ease of movement.
She took a deep breath and jammed her knee as hard as she could between his legs.
With a shriek, Monsieur Etienne released her and collapsed like a failed soufflé, rolling on the floor, moaning and wheezing.
She shook out her skirts, dusted her hands and said, “I said no, Monsieur Etienne, and I meant it.” She stepped over his writhing body and walked away, leaving Monsieur Etienne in a crumpled heap, swearing and gasping out feeble threats.
Vile, disgusting, horrid little man.
She found the correct corridor, stepped into her bedchamber and locked the door behind her. She leaned against it, wishing it had a bolt as well, and realized she was shaking.
So much for being a lady. Three years of lessons in proper deportment down the drain.
One small difficulty and she’d reverted right back to the girl who’d grown up in the back streets of London. But what else could she do? She’d seen him bothering the other young ladies, and yet all they did was blush and move away and bleat at him, hoping he would stop.
Which he’d done once he’d spotted Zoë.
She poured herself a glass of water from the jug on the washstand and drank it down. She sat at the dressing table, removed her jewelry, pulled the pins from her hair and contemplated her reflection. Her hands were still shaking.
She’d done it now.
There would be a scandal. And she knew who would be blamed.
She kicked off her shoes, sat on the high bed and considered her options.
She couldn’t stay here now. The house party was far from over—there were at least five days left to go—but she would have to leave. First thing in the morning for preference. She had no intention of staying to deal with the fuss that would erupt once Etienne informed his parents of what she’d done.
Though, would he tell them what she’d done, or would he keep quiet about it, too mortified to admit to defeat by a woman? She wasn’t sure.
He’d deserved it, and more, but if he did make it public, he’d probably claim she’d attacked him for no good reason. The scandal might even reach Paris. Certainly it would deeply embarrass and upset Madame DuPlessis, her chaperone, who’d made it possible for her to attend the house party when Lucy, the friend and mentor with whom she’d been living the last three years, had been unable to travel.
It was regrettable—the motherly Madame DuPlessis had been very kind to her, and even if there were no scandal, Zoë had no doubt the good lady would be upset at Zoë’s abrupt departure—but what else could she do?
She made up her mind. Whether the despicable Etienne told his parents or not, Zoë would leave first thing in the morning. She’d really only attended because of the locality, and after what had just happened, she doubted any of the guests would be willing to drive her anywhere.
She found some writing paper and ink in the little desk in her room and sat down to write some notes. At first she planned to tell both her chaperone and her hosts that she’d been called away urgently on family business and would apologize for the inconvenience.
But the moment she picked up the pen, she decided no,she would not make things easy for her hosts. They must know of their son’s unsavory habits, and yet they’d done nothing to curb them. She was a guest in their home and they owed her protection at the very least.
She dashed off a letter, which she hoped would leave them squirming with embarrassment. She described in detail the disgraceful way Etienne had behaved throughout the visit and what he’d just attempted. She’d added that she’d been forced to defend herself, but had her guardian been present, Etienne would be facing a duel. Not that she had a guardian, but they didn’t know that.
Having expended a good deal of satisfying vitriol to the baron and baroness, her note to Madame DuPlessis was much shorter and more matter-of-fact. The kindly lady had been a delightfully lax chaperone, but Etienne’s behavior wasn’t her fault, so Zoë merely thanked her for her kindness and explained that Monsieur Etienne’s behavior had made any continuation here impossible. She added that she would catch thediligenceto Paris, which was why she was leaving so early, and hoped it would not be too much trouble for Madame DuPlessis to convey the remainder of her baggage back to Paris when she returned.
It was a pity she wouldn’t get to see her mother’s former home, but she could see no alternative but to return to Paris. She’d never learned to ride, and besides, she could hardly compound her disgrace by stealing a horse.
Feeling calmer, she rang the bell to summon the maid she’d been assigned to help her out of her dress, then began a letter to Lucy and her husband, Gerald.
A few moments later there came a soft knock on her door. She stiffened, then realized Etienne was incapable of knocking softly. It would be Marie, the young maid assigned to her for the length of her stay at the château.
“Entrez,” she called, then recollecting that she’d locked the door, she rose and unlocked it.
“Your hot water, mademoiselle,” the maid murmured, and placed a large jug of steaming water on the washstand. “Shall I help you disrobe?”
“Yes, please, and perhaps you could—” Zoë broke off as the girl turned and the candlelight fell fully on her face. “Marie,” she exclaimed. “What happened?”
The maid’s eyes were red-rimmed and there was a nasty bruise on her face. Half her face was quite swollen and there was a cut on her cheekbone.
