Prelude to Heaven Read Online Free

and black trousers hanging on hooks. This was apparently Monsieur Dumond's room.
    Closing the door, she rested her hand on her rounded stomach and returned her attention to her problem, for it had to be faced. What was she going to do next? She was five months into her pregnancy, and for the baby's sake, she doubted she could go much farther. She could only hope she had run far enough to hide from the authorities.
    She thought again of Alexandre Dumond. Would he her stay here until her baby came? He seemed kind enough, for he had taken her in and cared for her, but now that she was well again, he probably wanted her gone, especially if he were the recluse he was rumored to be. And even if he let her stay here, would he expect some kind of payment in exchange? Or worse, was he a man like Nigel? She shuddered, remembering how she had once thought Nigel to be kind.
    Suddenly, without warning, the baby moved. It was only a tiny flutter, but it was enough to remind her that it didn't matter if Monsieur Dumond were kind. As long as he didn't beat her, she knew her best option was to remain here, if he would allow it. “I won't let anything happen to you, my baby,” she promised, cradling her belly protectively with her hand. “I swear it.”
    She grasped a fold of muslin in her hand and wondered what woman had worn this dress. She thought of Monsieur Dumond's unkept garden, crumbling castle, and torn clothes. She wondered why he seemed to have no servants. She thought of the rumors surrounding him and wondered what secrets hid behind those enigmatic dark eyes.
    Suddenly, she had an idea.
     
    ***
     
    Alexandre leaned his back against the stone wall of the courtyard and stared at the weeds flourishing between the paving stones. In his mind's eye was a picture of violet eyes and a blue muslin dress and lavender in bloom. He closed his eyes and fought back, struggling until the image disappeared.
    It was the dress. He should have given all her clothes away. But he had not been able to give away any of Anne-Marie's things. Her dresses still hung in the armoire of her bedchamber, her undergarments still lay in her chest of drawers, her jewel case still sat on the bedside table covered with dust. It had been three years since Alexandre had been in her bedchamber, three years since she had died there. After the funeral, he had stepped out of that room and locked the door, never opening it again. Until today.
    “Monsieur Dumond?”
    Alexandre opened his eyes. There was the dress again, on the wrong woman. He straightened away from the wall, coming out of his reverie with difficulty, trying not to look at her. “You should be resting, mademoiselle,” he said, fixing his eyes on the lavender blooming in the courtyard.
    “Tess.”
    “ Pardon ?” He looked at her then. The dress hung on her thin frame, except around the gentle swell of her abdomen, and the hem swept the ground. There was a bit of color in her cheeks, though, and her eyes, dark green and huge, were clear as they met his.
    “My name is Tess.” She gave him no last name. Instead, she turned away and looked about her. “Your gardener should be dismissed.”
    Over her shoulder, she cast him an inquiring glance, probing for information that he had no intention of providing. “I will make a note of it.”
    She straightened her shoulders and turned toward him. “Monsieur, thank you for your help. I am grateful. Truly, I don't know what I would have done if you had not found me.”
    He shrugged, but he did not answer.
    “I realize you know nothing about me, but as you can see, I am…” She paused as if searching for the right words. “I am in trouble.”
    If she hoped for chivalry, she’d be disappointed.
    “I'm concerned about my child,” she went on in the wake of his silence. “I don't know what to do.”
    “I would think the solution to your problem would be obvious, mademoiselle. Go home.”
    Her face went pale, and he caught a fleeting glimpse of the fear