Her Inconvenient Groom by Niomie Roland
Chapter 34
“Bail?” Dustin repeated incredulously.
The dour-faced lawyer nodded.
Dustin sat back on the hard bunk bed in his cell, suddenly robbed of the use of his legs. The shock was just too much. After two weeks of waiting to see what would happen, whether his case would go to trial and when, here was this man, accompanied by the same interpreter who didn’t seem to like him too much, and they were telling him he’d made bail. A hundred thousand euros’ worth of bail.
“Who posted it?” he asked.
The lawyer shrugged, and the interpreter gave him a thin smile. The closest she’d ever gotten to a pleasant facial expression in his presence. “Monsieur Spencer,” the woman said in flat tones, “if your plane is going down over the ocean, and your pilot tells you to eject, do you care what color your parachute is, who packed it, or where it was made?”
Dustin shook his head slowly.
“Then, Monsieur, I would like to advise you to accept the bail and get out while you can.”
She didn’t need to tell him a second time. Dustin leaped up off the bunk, dusted off his hands, and allowed the guard to open the grille. He gave one last backward glance at the tiny room that had been his home for way too long and followed the others eagerly out to the processing area. Dustin signed whatever documents needed to be signed, barely reading them. He accepted the envelope with the meager belongings he had on him when he was arrested, and hurried outside into fresh, clean air.
What now, he wondered. He almost certainly wouldn’t be welcomed back at Chantelle’s home. He’d finally been informed that she was alive and still in the hospital, but that was as much as anyone was willing to tell him. His pleas for anyone to tell him more about her condition went unanswered.
He was relieved to know that she was still alive, and that alone should have made him happy. Except there were other troubling thoughts going through his mind. What did Chantelle think of him? Did she think he’d done this to her? Did his wife, whom he loved to the depth of his soul, believe he’d poisoned her and murdered their child?
In any case, Dustin understood that returning to her mansion would be folly. It might even result in him being re-arrested. He would get a hotel. Something affordable where he could bide his time and figure out his next move.
Find a way to go see Chantelle.
The next step would be finding a taxi during rush hour in downtown Aix.
Then he spotted them, standing on the sidewalk, both men tall and strong, one dark-haired, the other with the tawny—albeit tamed—mane of a lion. Alex and William.
He felt weak with relief, and almost teared up when they came to him and embraced him like he was their brother. He understood then that these men not only liked him enough to pull out their wallets on his behalf, but they also trusted him enough. Surely they knew he would never hurt Chantelle.
“Come, come, frère,” Liam said a bit too brightly, “let’s get you home and get some decent food into you.”
Dustin was grateful for the invitation, but hesitated. “Is Chantelle still in hospital?”
“She is,” Alex said gravely.
“Please,” Dustin begged, “may I see her?”
The brothers shared a glance, and then Liam shook his head. “I’m sorry, but given the circumstances, with your case still open—”
“I didn’t—!”
“We know,” Alex placated him. “We can clearly see that you love her. But legally, it is not allowed. You cannot have any contact with her. It is a condition of your bail.”
“Is there no way?”
The brothers shook their heads. Dustin felt his heart sink. He’d been so hopeful when those cell doors had been opened. Now this.
“But,” Alex said, “at the very least, my brother and I are opening up our home to you. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish. And we will make some calls in the morning, to ensure that we have the full legal power of our team behind you. We’ll fight this, my friend.”
Dustin wanted to hug them again, so overwhelmed was he by their generosity. He was nothing to them, and yet here they were, offering help when he needed it most. “Thank you,” he said humbly. “And thank you for posting my bail.”
More surprised glances were exchanged. Liam said, “We received a message that you were being released. This is why we are here. But neither my brother nor I posted your bail. Although in retrospect, that’s a bit embarrassing. I wish we had thought sooner to alleviate your suffering in that way.”
Dustin was perplexed. “You didn’t? Then who?”
Alex made light of it. “Perhaps you have a fairy godfather. But don’t puzzle over it too much. Why don’t we take you home? I have already called the château to ask Hassan to go out and buy you some fresh clothes.” He looked him up and down. “Although I hope the size that I suggested to him will still fit you. It is possible you might have lost some weight during this ordeal, oui?”
“Oui,” Dustin agreed. Between the bland food and his unceasing worry, he’d barely been able to get anything past his lips.
He was grateful that the brothers didn’t try to engage him in unnecessary conversation, and left him to his thoughts on the drive out to the country, to their château. As he entered through the main doorway, he remembered the last time he’d been there. How happy they had all been sharing a meal and good wine.
Now even this beautiful mansion felt cold and imposing, as if reflecting the dull empty ache of his heart back at him.
He took a way-too-long shower, scrubbing away all the grime of his cell—both real and imagined, and returned to the spacious guest bedroom to find several choices of clothing neatly laid out on the bed. And although, yeah, the waistband of the pants was a bit looser than it would have been a couple of weeks ago, it was good to wear something clean that wasn’t cheap, itchy, state-supplied crap.
He felt like a new man.
Picking up the phone handset next to his bed, he dialed the number of the one person he knew would always be in his corner. Kim, his stepmom. She picked it up almost immediately.
“Dustin!”
Dustin imagined that the French area code appearing on the caller ID would have alerted her that it was him. “Hey, Kim,” he said softly.
“Oh my sweet heaven! Dustin!” Her voice was choked with emotion. “Where are you? How are you?”
Why does she sound so worried, he wondered? He hadn’t even had the chance to explain his predicament. And much as he hated the idea of worrying her, he knew he had to.
“Have you been arraigned? Have you been charged? Are you still in jail?”
She knew? “How did you—” he began.
“It was all over the news. People are saying such terrible things about you.”
Dustin could hear the hurt and fear in her voice, and it grieved him to cause her so much hurt. “I had no idea.”
“They’re calling you a murderer!”
Oh, my God “I promise you, Kim, I never had anything to do with it. There’s no way on this Earth that I would ever hurt Chantelle.”
“I know, Dustin.”
He envisioned her sitting in her wheelchair, clutching the phone to her breast as she caught her breath. Then she said, “You got married.”
“I did. I—” How would he explain this?
“I figured out why.” It was a statement, bald and unadorned. “I know why you did that. This woman, Chantelle Moreau Clark, the news is saying she’s extremely privileged, very wealthy.” Kim paused. “Wealthy enough to arrange for a million-dollar surprise disbursement by a charity that was formed on the same day of us receiving news of money to cover your sister’s health costs.”
Dustin propped his elbows over the balcony railing and looked out onto the topiary of the Dubois estate. He was actually relieved that he wouldn’t need to explain his relationship with Chantelle to Kim when the time came. One thing he was certain of was Chantelle being part of his future. Dustin hoped he would be able to convince her of that.
“I’ll do anything for Arabella.”
“I know,” she said in a voice heavy with emotion. “Because of what you did, our Arabella got another chance at life. To be healthy and happy.”
“How is she?” he asked at once.
“She’s been discharged, and is doing great. She’s got a bit of rehab to do, but she has a chance at a future again. All because of you.”
“You aren’t mad?” he asked cautiously.
“Mad? How could I be mad at you? Once again, Dustin, you’ve put the needs of this family before your own. I don’t know how you managed to swing this.”
That’s a longer story than I have time for, Dustin thought.
“You’ve changed all our lives for the better. Brought happiness and light back into our family. Thank you! I can never repay you.”
“You owe me nothing!” Warm feelings briefly overrode the exhaustion and despair of the past few weeks. “And you’re welcome.”
“Was it awful?” she asked.
“What, jail?” He shrugged, even though she couldn’t see him. “I’m sure the food’s better than what you’d find in a Soviet gulag, but still.”
“No, the marriage. Is it awful being married to this lady?”
Awful? Chantelle? Not even for a second. “No. She’s the best woman I’ve met in a long time. Honest and fair. I love her. I’m in love with her.”
“I’m sorry about the baby. Was it yours?”
“Yes,” he said shortly.
“Oh, Dustin.”
He couldn’t say anything.
“What now?” she asked.
“The Dubois’, Chantelle’s friends— My friends will get me legal representation. I am going to fight this. I never hurt her. I never would. I’ll beat this.”
“I know you will.”
Dustin spent the next few minutes catching up on what was going on with his siblings, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else. Something Kim was reluctant to tell him. Eventually, he demanded, “Spill, Kim.”
“Spill what?” she asked disingenuously.
“Whatever it is you aren’t telling me.”
She sighed heavily. “Okay. Are you sitting down?”
Still standing on the balcony, he said, “Nope. Spill anyway.”
“Jen came by the other day,” she said simply.
His ex-fiancée? In addition to constantly calling his phone, she dared to turn up at his home? “What did she want?” he asked sharply.
“You, apparently,” Kim said. “And she had a baby with her that looks like you.”