Liszt's Kiss by Susanne Dunlap

Author:Susanne Dunlap
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2007-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

If the hôtel Barbier was a wreckage on the outside, its condition was hardly much better within. From the moment he entered, Pierre could see that the mansion was in terrible need of repair, with paint peeling on the banisters, and high above, evidence of water stains where the roof had failed to do its protective duty. Nonetheless, it seemed inconceivable that only the countess, her father, and a few servants lived in this great pile of a building. Once the unpleasant scene with the marquis ended, he followed Mademoiselle Anne up the sweeping staircase to one of the large bedchambers on the floor above. Monsieur de Barbier was asleep when he came in, and Pierre was sorry to wake him, but he would not be able to return later that day.

“He looks much better, don’t you think?” the countess whispered.

Barbier stirred at the sound of her voice. His eyes opened. “You must be the doctor,” he said.

“Yes, that’s right,” Pierre said, with a significant look at Mademoiselle de Barbier-Chouant. It would not do for the fellow to think his physician was unqualified to care for him.

“I’ll leave you to your patient, Doctor,” she said, putting a little extra emphasis on her final word.

Once the door closed behind her, Pierre began his examination. The incision looked tender but not festering. He changed the dressing carefully. “You are more comfortable here than at the Hôtel-Dieu, I imagine,” Pierre said.

“I owe you a debt of gratitude,” Barbier said.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What is your fee for such an operation? I’m sure I can afford to pay it.” Barbier drew in his breath sharply as Pierre put some salve on the wound.

“I ask no fee. I was at the Hôtel-Dieu, and I did my duty.” He finished wrapping the bandage around his patient’s lower torso.

Barbier reached out his hand and touched Pierre’s sleeve. “I saw the way you looked at her.”

Pierre stood upright, his pulse quickening. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“The marquis means us to marry, my cousin and I,” Barbier said. “But I don’t think she cares for me in that way.”

Pierre opened his mouth to question the young man further but stopped when he heard the unmistakable sound of a cane tapping against a wooden floor outside the door. A moment later the marquis entered the room. Pierre turned to the old man and bowed politely.

“Here,” the marquis said, approaching Pierre with a pouch dangling from his hand.

“Oh, no, sir,” Pierre said, backing away from him.

“I would be ungrateful if I did not compensate you for the service you have done my family.”

Pierre could not refuse the honorarium without insulting the marquis, and so he took it. The purse was surprisingly heavy.

“I should like to look in on Monsieur de Barbier—”

“There is no need. I’ll have my own man care for my cousin from now on.” He held his arm out in the direction of the door.

Pierre looked back and forth from the marquis to Barbier. Barbier closed his eyes. The marquis

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