PHILIPPE KNOCKED ON Jenna’s door and heard footsteps crossing the floor inside. When she opened it, the pale waif was gone, replaced by a chic and slender woman in a silk dress the same devastating blue as her eyes.
Her transformation stunned him. He stopped short on the threshold, then proceeded into the room when he’d caught his breath again.
She didn’t notice his reaction—she was having trouble enough controlling hers.
The whiteness of his linen shirt heightened the effect of his brilliant smile against his deeply bronzed skin and his exquisitely tailored suit. He looked very much the lord of the manor—handsome, elegant, and supremely confident. But beneath that civilized surface lurked an air of mystery and danger that raised her pulse and sent a thrill dancing up her spine.
“You look rested,” he said, and saw a flicker of disappointment cross her face. “And very beautiful.”
She thanked him with composure, but his compliment brought a fresh rush of color to her cheeks. He took her hand as if he hadn’t noticed, tucked it over his arm, and led her out of the room.
They dined by candlelight in a small salon done in muted colors to match the Aubusson carpet. Jenna was relieved when the last course was removed. Afterward she couldn’t even remember what they’d eaten. Gaston removed the dessert plates and set out a tray with a crystal decanter and brandy snifters.
“Shall I leave you to your brandy?” she asked.
“I would much prefer that you stay and have a glass with me. How did you become interested in restoring manuscripts? Is it perhaps a family tradition?”
“Not at all.” She smiled across at him. “I’m the first D’Arcy in three generations who didn’t follow an interest in medicine. My parents are doctors, involved in genetic therapy, and my brother is a chemist and heads a pharmaceutical research company.”
He looked at her across the rim of his glass. “What made you decide to follow another path?”
“I enjoy a more personal angle to my work. It began with my great-grandmother’s journal.” Jenna sipped the brandy. “I looked up other old diaries in the local library’s collection. One thing led to another—and to Beaumont Foret.”
“I think you will be very pleased with the library here.”
After they finished their brandy, he escorted her down a long hall to the base of the north tower. The tall double doors were thrown open to a large room with a cavernous fireplace on the far wall. Every wall was filled with books and exquisite paintings.
Philippe took her around the room, telling her the history of its treasures. The highlights were an early Bible, an exquisitely painted Chinese scroll, and his favorite—an illuminated Book of Hours, gloriously gilded and intricately painted by a master’s hand.
Jenna admired them, lingering over the Book of Hours, but he noticed that her gaze still roamed the room, as if searching for something more. “You seem disappointed.”
“How could I be? Any museum would be over the moon to have a single one of these. But they’re all remarkably preserved,” she added. “I don’t see anything requiring my talents.”
“Ah, so you are looking for a challenge? Excellent. I have one that I hope will interest you.”
He took her through a door and up a steep flight of winding stairs. “The thick stone walls keep this room cool in summer and warm in winter,” he told her, “but there are special controls to keep the manuscripts at an unvarying degree.”
Jenna was breathless before they reached the room on the top floor—and then she was speechless.
She walked along the shelves, taking in the handwritten manuscripts, rare books, and scrolls. “But . . . some of these are ancient and incredibly valuable! They should be in a museum.”
“Someday they will be. But not until I’ve found what I’m seeking.”
He went to a wooden chest and opened the lid. The fragrance of aromatic wood wafted out, with a dark undertone of smoke. “I imagine that these will interest you.”
Jenna peered inside. It held three pottery jars containing charred vellum scrolls. She could make out a few of the Latin words and phrases.
“Afflictions and Diseases . . . Cures . . . The Relief of Evil Humors in the Blood . . . Methods of Surgery,” she translated. “Why, these are medical texts.”
Jenna read part of a line that was half obliterated. “And from what I can make out, they’re copies of Greek originals that were far older.”
“Yes. From the ruins of Pompeii. They were found inside a deep stone niche, beneath thick layers of ash. The unglazed jars helped preserve them.”
“It’s a shame the ash didn’t protect them. It usually acts as an insulator.”
“They were intact at the time of their discovery,” he said, his voice deep with regret. “The curé purchased them on a pilgrimage to Rome, as a gift for my father, and brought them back here to Beaumont Foret. The night of his return the fire I spoke of earlier broke out. These scrolls were charred by the flames that destroyed the village records.”
But not before the old curé had read enough to convince him that the cure we have sought so long was in them, he thought.
Aloud, he said, “They’ve been kept undisturbed for decades, in hopes that one day the technology would be available to restore them.”
“It is available,” Jenna said. “I know two universities that might undertake the project, if you’re interested in contacting them.”
“No.” Philippe’s voice was firm. “The scrolls cannot be taken from the château. Not until they’ve been restored and deciphered.”
Jenna tried not to show her eagerness. “I see. And this is the challenge you mentioned?”
“You said earlier that winter at the château might have many compensations. Perhaps you would consider this one of them?”
“Yes.” She slanted a thoughtful look his way. “But I imagine it might also have its complications.”
His dark gaze met her clear blue one, and a smile lifted the corners of his firm mouth. “Any decisions are entirely in your hands, mademoiselle.”
His words were simple enough on the surface, but beneath them lay a wealth of meaning. He was open to the possibility of a relationship outside their professional one—but she would be the one who made the choice.
She pretended to consider his offer, but she’d already made her up her mind. A professional opportunity like this came once in a lifetime, and then only to the lucky few. Added to her private agenda, it was almost too good to be true.
“I have to agree that moving them could present problems. They’re incredibly fragile. But it’s a huge project . . . I’d have to take a leave of absence.”
Philippe closed the lid. He wasn’t fooled. She radiated sparks of excitement. It occurred to him that it would be a delightful thing to see her light up that same way when she looked at him.
“There is no need to rush,” he said. “We’ll discuss terms later, and you can think about whether or not you would like to accept my offer over the next few days.”
Later, back in her room, that was all that Jenna could think about.
Do I really want to spend the winter couped up in a fantastic château in Beaumont Foret, with an abundance of rare manuscripts, carte blanche to restore them—and a handsome, intriguing man like Philippe Beaumont?
The answer, of course, was a resounding “Yes!”
Philippe went down to the village to inform his cousin of what he’d done. The news was not received well.
“You invited her to stay on?” Armand was incredulous. “Have you lost your wits?”
“You forget yourself,” Philippe said coldly. “You know my sworn duty. I will do everything in my power to see that the responsibility handed down to me is fulfilled.”
The old man sitting in the corner nodded at his son. “And it is your duty, Armand, to help Philippe in any way you can. His task is not an easy one.”
His cousin didn’t like it, but he had to accept it. “As you will. But, for the love of God—be careful!”
Philippe smiled. “Have no fear. I can control Jenna D’Arcy. And I’ll keep her so busy she has no time for anything else.”
He took his leave of them. When he was gone, the old man tapped his son on the knee. “Do not worry. He is brave, that one, and wise beyond his years.”
Armand shook his head. “Yes. But he is also a damned fool, because he is falling in love with her. I know the signs. He will bring ruin to us all.”