Topaz - Leon Uris [70]
In this game they were playing and in the way they played it, there was no such thing as a man taking the woman. Mauling before the door and empty words were for children. In the end it would have to be her choice. And the man who played the game well, as Guy de Crécy did, would have presented himself and his case, as he had, with great charm and now would have to await a sign from her.
Nicole, too, had played the game, to a point. She played it as long as no one became offended. Others had waited for the sign as Guy de Crécy waited now. She had never given it because Nicole never wanted or needed more than her husband.
The car pulled to a stop at 176 Rue de Rennes. The chauffeur came around to open the rear door.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she blurted as though she had no control of the words leaving her mouth.
He showed no trace of displeasure as he walked her to the lobby door. Nicole handed him the key, avoiding his eyes. He unlocked the door, shoved it open. She gave him her hand.
“Please forgive me,” she said.
“I quite understand, Madame Devereaux,” Guy de Crécy said. He kissed her hand and left.
Nicole closed her apartment door behind her and leaned against it breathing erratically. She took off her wrap slowly and let it fall over the back of a chair. The room was so horribly quiet. As she heard the motor drive off she damned herself.
Down the hall, into the bedroom ... the empty bed. She sat before the dressing mirror for a timeless period looking at herself as though through a veil, seeing a diffused stranger in the half-light. And tears fell down her cheeks until none were left.
5
JACQUES GRANVILLE ENTERED NICOLE’S apartment drenched from the driving rain. He had found no parking space closer than two blocks away.
“Poor dear,” Nicole said taking his coat. She hung it over the heater in the entry to dry.
Jacques rubbed his icy hands together, shook his head like a dripping dog, and made straight for the liquor cabinet in the living room.
“I’m glad Michele phoned so I could talk her out of driving back from Dieppe tonight.”
“Ahhhh,” Jacques said as the cognac hit the spot. “Well, I’m a bachelor. Paulette left for Normandy early this morning ... in a huff I’m afraid. Now that I’ve got you all to myself why don’t you let me take you out to dinner?”
“I have a better idea. Let’s not go out in the mess. I’ll cook something here.”
“Beautiful.” Jacques phoned his office to give his whereabouts, then unlaced his shoes. His socks were soaked.
“You’re half drowned,” Nicole said. “Trot on back to André’s room. Raid his closet and make yourself comfortable.”
When Jacques entered the kitchen, Nicole was aproned and flitting about in preparation to assault the oven. She approved of the baggy velour shirt, old trousers, and André’s slippers.
“Nothing serious with you and Paulette?”
“Frankly, we’re heading for the rocks.”
“Not again, Jacques.”
“It’s a talent with me,” he berated himself. He sat up to the kitchen table, poured a glass of wine. Nicole opened the refrigerator and studied.
“You can have a choice of ... ummm ... let’s see ... lamb, but that will take a while, or sweetbreads or, yes, I have some scallops.”
“Surprise me.” He picked up a magazine on the table whose cover was adorned by the lord and master, Pierre La Croix. After a quick thumb-through he set it aside. “How’d you get on with Guy de Crécy?”
“Oh, fine. Charming man. Shame about his wife. Pour me a little wine.”
He set her glass next to her at the sink where she peeled potatoes. She finished her chore, wiped her hands on her apron, brushed back some fallen strands of hair and saluted with her wineglass.
Jacques became rather grim. “I wanted to see you because I’m worried about André.”
“So am I,” Nicole said.
“Nicole. I’m going to confide in you and tell you some things I shouldn’t be speaking about, but I trust you implicitly.”
“Don’t worry, my dear. I’ve been married to an intelligence