Read Online Lost heritage by Rebecca Stratton - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca Stratton
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mind that perhaps Michel feared Mademoiselle Villeaux's physical attractions might lead to his cousin conmiandeering her permanently, but second thoughts decided it was improbable; Raoul was unlikely to be influenced by anything as basic as that. He valued the middle-aged Mademoiselle Duclair for her efficiency and for that reason would welcome her back.
In the nearly two weeks Charlotte had been there nothing had changed in the situation between Lizette and her husband. Michel Menais had never yet spent an evening at home with her; to everyone else he was charming, but his wife he virtually ignored.
There was so little similarity between him and Raoul that it was difficult to believe they were related at times. Michel was the elder by about ten or eleven years, shorter in build as well as inclined to corpulence, but he was still a good-looking man and fully aware of the fact. Curly brown hair gave him a deceptively boyish look at times despite his forty-odd years, and his brown eyes had none of Raoul's steely shrewdness.
Taking into account his taste for pretty women, which he made no effort to disguise, Charlotte found it hard to understand why he had married poor, colourless Lizette. Unless of course she had had other more practical qualities to recommend her. She had no idea of Lizette's background and if she had any family she had not been in touch with them since Charlotte's arrival. As far as she could see Lizette was a misfit among the self-confident Menais and all too aware of it.
It was her preoccupation with her employer's situation that had led to carelessness while she was typing one of Raoul's letters, and Charlotte was busy with an eraser when Raoul's voice cut abrupdy into her thoughts. Deep and quiet but tinged with impatience, it snatched her back to normality.
*Have you completed those letters, mademoiselle}^
*In just a moment, monsieur !'
His formality often tempted her to try and arouse the same kind of passionate response as on that first evening she was called upon to help, only so far she had lacked the nerve to attempt it. He glanced at his watch. *You have a 4ate?'
Gathering up the letters Charlotte carried them across to him for signing, standing there while he scrawled his big, bold signature across each one before handing tbem back. 1 hope to be seemg jean cordet,' she told him, and caught his eye before turning away.
Raoul said nothing, except to murmur a word of thanks, and Charlotte studied him secredy while she folded the signed letters and put them into envelopes. He was not only impossibly arrogant, but incredibly attractive too, though he seemed not to take advantage of it the way his cousin did. Sometimes she felt she could quite easily hate him, and yet when she sought for reasons for her violent reaction to him, she could never quite find one.
His long hands had a curious grace that she found fascinating, for they reminded her of the hands of an artist, and yet there was nothing of the dreamy artist about Raoul Menais. His face too, in repose, had a certain tranquillity that was never ever in evidence when he was conscious of being observed, and that too she foimd curiously fascinating.
He was a virile and sensually attractive man who conversely exhibited litde of his cousin's predilection for pretty women. She realised that she was judging him entirely on her own experience, but there was no other rule for her to judge by and, apart from that one brief slip, he had remained stricdy businesslike. It was a fact that sometimes rankled without her being fully aware of it.
As if he became aware of her scrutiny he looked across suddenly and narrowed his eyes in the way she was becoming all too familiar with. 'I have given a great deal of diought to you in the past week, mademoiselle^^ he said, and Charlotte stared at him for a moment too starded to know what to say.
^MonsieurV she ventured after a second or two.
Raoul continued to look at her without responding for a while and
In the nearly two weeks Charlotte had been there nothing had changed in the situation between Lizette and her husband. Michel Menais had never yet spent an evening at home with her; to everyone else he was charming, but his wife he virtually ignored.
There was so little similarity between him and Raoul that it was difficult to believe they were related at times. Michel was the elder by about ten or eleven years, shorter in build as well as inclined to corpulence, but he was still a good-looking man and fully aware of the fact. Curly brown hair gave him a deceptively boyish look at times despite his forty-odd years, and his brown eyes had none of Raoul's steely shrewdness.
Taking into account his taste for pretty women, which he made no effort to disguise, Charlotte found it hard to understand why he had married poor, colourless Lizette. Unless of course she had had other more practical qualities to recommend her. She had no idea of Lizette's background and if she had any family she had not been in touch with them since Charlotte's arrival. As far as she could see Lizette was a misfit among the self-confident Menais and all too aware of it.
It was her preoccupation with her employer's situation that had led to carelessness while she was typing one of Raoul's letters, and Charlotte was busy with an eraser when Raoul's voice cut abrupdy into her thoughts. Deep and quiet but tinged with impatience, it snatched her back to normality.
*Have you completed those letters, mademoiselle}^
*In just a moment, monsieur !'
His formality often tempted her to try and arouse the same kind of passionate response as on that first evening she was called upon to help, only so far she had lacked the nerve to attempt it. He glanced at his watch. *You have a 4ate?'
Gathering up the letters Charlotte carried them across to him for signing, standing there while he scrawled his big, bold signature across each one before handing tbem back. 1 hope to be seemg jean cordet,' she told him, and caught his eye before turning away.
Raoul said nothing, except to murmur a word of thanks, and Charlotte studied him secredy while she folded the signed letters and put them into envelopes. He was not only impossibly arrogant, but incredibly attractive too, though he seemed not to take advantage of it the way his cousin did. Sometimes she felt she could quite easily hate him, and yet when she sought for reasons for her violent reaction to him, she could never quite find one.
His long hands had a curious grace that she found fascinating, for they reminded her of the hands of an artist, and yet there was nothing of the dreamy artist about Raoul Menais. His face too, in repose, had a certain tranquillity that was never ever in evidence when he was conscious of being observed, and that too she foimd curiously fascinating.
He was a virile and sensually attractive man who conversely exhibited litde of his cousin's predilection for pretty women. She realised that she was judging him entirely on her own experience, but there was no other rule for her to judge by and, apart from that one brief slip, he had remained stricdy businesslike. It was a fact that sometimes rankled without her being fully aware of it.
As if he became aware of her scrutiny he looked across suddenly and narrowed his eyes in the way she was becoming all too familiar with. 'I have given a great deal of diought to you in the past week, mademoiselle^^ he said, and Charlotte stared at him for a moment too starded to know what to say.
^MonsieurV she ventured after a second or two.
Raoul continued to look at her without responding for a while and
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