‘To whom she had bequeathed it,’ he murmured as he scanned the papers. After checking them briefly he pushed them across the desk to her.
‘Before I look at these,’ Kate said, fixing him with a determined stare, ‘I would like to know what has happened to the money I have been paying into your estate office. You can’t tell me there isn’t a record—’ She stopped. Something in his expression warned her that this was not the moment to jump on her high horse.
‘I am aware of every payment received for La Petite Maison,’ the Count assured her. ‘But those transactions show nothing more than a company name.’ Picking out a couple more sheets, he passed them over to her.
Kate’s stomach contracted. Even Guy de Villeneuve could not be expected to know that Freedom Holidays was her company. But that didn’t excuse the state of the cottage. As she felt his gaze resting on her she pretended interest in the invoice… But his sexual aura was lapping around her senses, clouding her mind with erotic images that had nothing to do with the purpose of her visit.
‘But if all these payments are in order,’ she began huskily, ‘how do you explain the neglect at the cottage?’ She tossed the invoices back across the desk to avoid looking at him.
‘Ancient covenants govern La Petite Maison just the same as they do all the other cottages on the estate. Also it is leasehold. Accordingly, I don’t need to explain my actions. The fact that I choose to—’
‘You choose to?’ Kate flared, even though her logical mind told her he was acting honourably.
‘Certainement,’ he confirmed.
‘So, no one has any rights except you?’ Her emotional self took another battering as he answered her heated question with just a slight lift of his shoulders.
‘Who else did you imagine owned the land on which all the estate cottages stand, Kate?’
‘You—’ She found herself flailing about mentally, wondering why on earth she hadn’t confronted this obvious fact before. Why had she chosen to ignore the reality of Guy de Villeneuve as a neighbour? And now it seemed as landlord too!
‘That is correct,’ he said, making a bridge of his fingers on which to rest his chin.
She knew he was waiting to see what her response would be now she knew he held all the cards. Well, that look might have weakened other women— ‘I have found no record of my aunt ever making a payment for ground rent,’ she said, confronting the gaze he was levelling at her with an unwavering stare. ‘And I have checked through every one of her documents thoroughly—’
‘All except the deeds for the cottage, I presume,’ he observed, keeping his eyes trained on her face.
As she watched them darken from silver-grey to steel and then grow blacker still she raced to gather her wits while she still had some left. ‘Well, yes,’ she admitted. ‘I left that to my solicitor. And he said…’ Her voice tailed away.
Mr Jones had been at pains to explain that property law pertaining to ancient estates in France could be quite a minefield. He had asked her to make an appointment so that they could have a proper discussion regarding his many concerns. But she had been too busy to meet him—too busy making plans for this, her new venture.
As if scenting victory, the Count had grown very still like a jungle cat about to pounce. ‘It was remiss of your solicitor not to mention—’
‘No,’ Kate admitted reluctantly. ‘I am the one to blame. My solicitor wanted to go through everything with me in detail. I just haven’t had time—’
‘Ah,’ the Count said as if to imply that she might have done better to slow down and prioritise. ‘Is there something else?’ he added shrewdly.
‘Yes,’ Kate said, feeling she was on to something. ‘You still haven’t explained why there are no records of Aunt Alice ever making payment for a lease—’
‘Madame Broadbent was never asked for money,’ the Count revealed quietly. ‘As one of my mother’s closest friends it would have been highly inappropriate to exact any form of payment from her.’
‘You seemed to have no trouble accepting mine,’ Kate said, feeling unaccountably stung by this revelation.
‘All your payments will be returned with interest.’
‘But I don’t want them returned. I want the money spent on the cottage,’ she insisted again.
‘C’est impossible,’ he said with finality. ‘There will no longer be any independent cottages on my estate.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Unfolding his impressive frame, the Count got to his feet. ‘You will find my offer more than generous,’ he said in a voice that suggested their meeting was over. ‘I can assure you that everyone else has been more than satisfied—’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Oui, vraiment.’ His voice was clipped and dry, but abruptly his steely gaze softened. ‘Come on, Katie,’ he urged. ‘What do you need a second home in France for if you are so busy—?’
‘My name is Kate!’ Kate flared, horrified to hear the break in her voice.
‘Kate,’ he amended easily. ‘But, however you like to be called, you still haven’t answered my question.’
From cool and collected businesswoman, Kate suddenly found herself plunged into an emotional maelstrom she couldn’t contain. ‘Well, here’s one for you,’ she said hotly as she sprang up to confront him. ‘Are you trying to tell me that everyone—absolutely everyone else has accepted this deal?’ The way she stressed the last word turned it into an accusation.
‘I’m not trying to tell you anything, Kate,’ the Count countered calmly. ‘It’s a fact. And I’m not offering anyone a deal. I’m making them a fair offer.’
Kate couldn’t speak for a moment as she stood mashing her lips together in total impotence while fractured images of blissful childhood holidays flashed behind her eyes—holidays she had naïvely imagined she could recreate. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said stubbornly.
‘Believe it,’ he returned steadily. ‘The days when holiday homes were an integral part of the Villeneuve estates are in the past.’
‘But what about all the other tenants—their relatives—friends?’ Kate said heatedly as the eclectic group of characters that used to holiday on the estate each year gathered in her mind. ‘Don’t you care about them at all?’
‘The people to whom I presume you are referring used the cottages as second homes—holiday homes,’ he said patiently. ‘And without a single exception they were all delighted to accept my offer.’
‘Well, I’m not,’ Kate said, clenching her fists into balls of frustration.
‘You haven’t heard what’s on offer yet,’ he pointed out.
‘And I don’t need to,’ Kate assured him as her heart struggled to accept the fact that she could not hold on to the past by sheer force of will.
‘Ca suffit maintenant! You must listen to what I have to say, Kate,’ he insisted firmly. ‘This is a working estate now, not a holiday camp.’
‘It never was a holiday camp,’ she fired back at him. ‘And I seem to remember a time when your family welcomed visitors.’ But the heat was seeping out of her attack. He had made it quite clear that there was no crusade for her to embark on—it was far too late for that.
‘That may have been true when my father was alive,’ he conceded gently. ‘But the Villeneuve estates are destined to make a great deal of money now. These vineyards will eventually become some of the most profitable in the world—’
‘Money!’