“Guard your heart, little brother.” Julian stood and dropped his napkin on the table. “She will steal it.”
“She didn’t steal yours.” Andre noted.
Julian looked at Camille. “My heart was already spoken for.” He grabbed her hand and prompted her to stand. Tangling his fingers around hers, Julian kissed her sweetly. Not passionately. Just sweetly.
Everyone stopped talking abruptly.
Julian froze, his lips just a breath away from Camille’s. He cut his eyes toward the table. Andre, Lecie, and Claudette were fixated on the dining room’s entryway.
Madeleine.
CHAPTER NINE
MADELEINE THIBAULT was beyond gorgeous. The kind of woman that made Camille shrink into a cocoon of doubt and insecurity in the shadows of her basking beauty. But the look in her eyes—heartbroken devastation—had the opposite effect over Camille.
It was clear Madeleine was far more envious of her than Camille could ever feel in return. Still, the two could end up having far more in common than either imagined. But right now, Camille was on top and she had to be the bigger person.
She sucked it up and stepped toward Madeleine, extending her hand. “Hello. I’m Camille Chandler.”
“de Laurent. Camille Chandler de Laurent.” Julian corrected her.
Madeleine’s face tightened. If Julian meant to discourage her, he was succeeding. Her cold hand gripped Camille’s with the effectiveness of a wet noodle. “Madeleine Thibault,” she said, her voice cracking around her queen’s-English accent.
“Have you had breakfast?” Camille gestured at the table. “Would you like to join us?”
Madeleine’s sad smile looked bereft and bleak. “Yes.” She surveyed the table and moved toward the buffet table. “I think I might.”
Julian, who moments before was excusing himself, sat back down. Camille eased into her chair, her spirits sinking to the floor. She was just about ready to throw a pity party for her competition.
Madeleine approached the table and snagged the empty seat between Andre and Lecie. She avoided looking at Julian.
Who could blame her? “So, Madeleine.” Camille was not going to be the mean-spirited, so-called winner. Far as she could see, there were no winners. Not where Julian de Laurent was concerned. “Have you lived in Marseilles all your life?”
“No. I was born in Paris.” Madeleine’s words came slowly and reluctantly, like she didn’t trust Camille’s sincerity. “I spent much of my school years in England—” That explained the British accent. “—It wasn’t until I’d met Julian in Nice a few years back, that I began spending time in Marseilles. I have a small apartment there.” Madeleine held her head high, keeping her pride intact.
So why was she here? Why wasn’t she at her small apartment in Marseilles?
But who was Camille to question the de Laurent family? She’d just have to make the best of an awkward situation. She made a mental note...when the time came to get married for real, she’d discourage an invasion of her bridegroom’s old flings.
But this wasn’t real. She couldn’t forget that.
“I envy you.” Camille admitted.
“Envy me? Whatever for?” Madeleine doused her with an annoying glare, as if she thought she was being mocked.
“You’re so traveled.” Camille remained calm. “I envy your firsthand experience of having visited so many places.”
“I doubt that’ll last long.” Madeleine’s wall of dignity began to crumble. She avoided any further eye contact with both Camille and Julian. Instead, she focused on Claudette. “Maurice said you were going shopping today. Might I perhaps tag along?”
Claudette’s attention darted around the table and settled on Julian. “To tell the truth, Madeleine...Lecie and I are taking Camille into town to settle wedding arrangements.”
“Ah...” Madeleine’s voice tapered off. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I guess nobody wants me to tag along for that.”
Why would you want to? Camille didn’t have the guts to say that out loud, but it didn’t stop her curiosity. Why would anybody want to stick around and watch somebody they loved get hitched to someone else? Camille would be on the first plane, train, bus, or whatever.
“If Madeleine wants to go shopping with us,” Camille said to no one in particular. “I have no objections.”
Julian cleared his throat and rose from the table. “I’m sure you ladies will work it out. I must be going.” He glanced at Camille and stretched out his hand. “Walk me out?”
Long, extended fingers drew her like a magnet. Their touch bathed her in an appealing gentleness. She hurried after Julian as he rushed into the hallway like a speed walker.
“What’s going on?” Camille whispered. “Is she for real?”
Julian stopped just outside the door. “Madeleine Thibault has never been that considerate in her whole life.”
“Well, she is heartbroken.” Camille reminded him. “Thanks to you.”
“Heartbroken?” His abruptness shook Camille, awakening her senses. “She’s up to something. You be careful.”
Budding fear swept through Camille. “Once again, I don’t have to be worried about my physical safety, do I?”
“Madeline’s not the physical kind.” Julian dashed down the stairs. “She’s more devious,” he said, with Camille following him. “More backstabbing than that. She’s more apt to discredit you. Make you appear unworthy, incapable of fulfilling the position my wife would assume in European society.”
Geez, he made being his wife sound so hard. What had she gotten herself into?
At the front door, Julian brushed his lips against her cheek, and Camille forgot all about her insecurities. “Remember—” His tone held a mixture of order and suggestion. “—If the excursion gets to be too overwhelming, just call Soren and he’ll bring you back to the house.”
“Where are you going?” She wasn’t being nosey. Just curious.
“I have an empire to run.” He opened the door and headed outside.
“I thought that was your father’s job.”
“He leads the family. I run the business.”
“Oh.” Her response flittered off her tongue. His revelation surprised Camille, maybe even impressed her a little.
He moved toward the car and Sebastian opened the door. Julian stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll be back around six,” he said before disappearing into the limo.