Never Have We Ever: Betrothed, #1

By Cynthia Dane

(Includes a preview of the second BETROTHED novella, SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN)

BETROTHED is a trilogy of standalone stories that explore the world of arranged marriages and how they affect every couple differently. 

On a beautiful day in the French countryside, Austrian heiress Valeska Reiter marries a man she has only seen a handful of times over the past two years. The wedding day is only the beginning.

Andre Dubois comes from a line of French nobility so long that they somehow escaped the guillotine. His debonair mannerisms and handsome looks lead Valeska to say yes to a proposed match after only one meeting in Monaco. 

It seems like a fairy tale ending after a wedding night that leaves Valeska panting and awaiting a lifetime of more. But a decade and two children later, Valeska can’t help but wonder… what are the limits of an arranged marriage when a woman’s dignity is on the line?

She loves him. She’s pretty sure he loves her. But ten years of a language barrier proves the end of Valeska’s sanity as she finally pushes Andre to say what’s really been on his mind for ten years – in a language his wife can understand! 
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barachou Press
• Release date: Dec 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386951629

Book preview

Never Have We Ever

Betrothed #1

Cynthia Dane

BARACHOU PRESS

Never Have We Ever

Copyright: Cynthia Dane

Published: December 17th, 2017

Publisher: Barachou Press

This is a work of fiction. Any and all similarities to any characters, settings, or situations are purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

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Never Have We Ever

Chapter 1

Valeska’s mother smoothed down the last of her daughter’s hair before they exited the elevator. The bright, naturally lit café in one of Monaco’s most exclusive members-only clubs beckoned to families like Valeska’s, who applied for a membership the moment they heard the Dubois family frequented this place whenever they visited their properties in Monaco.

The membership had come in handy. André Dubois had suggested the location when he agreed to meet Valeska, his future wife.

Now she stood at the front of the large dining room with nothing but butterflies in her stomach.

Don’t look like such a deer caught in the hunter’s gaze, her mother, Marlene Reiter, chastised her oldest child as they approached the maître d’. You’re the future Daughter of Dubois. That title sounded much more sophisticated coming from the mouth of someone who could pronounce French names well. That was not Marlene, whose French was even worse than her daughter’s. Something Valeska hoped to fix in the coming months and years, should this marriage actually occur.

When her mother approached her with the exciting offer to marry the only son of the reclusive Dubois family, Valeska had thought her insane. Why would the Dubois clan agree to an arranged marriage when they had all the money in Western Europe? The Reiters were old pros at arranged marriages, though. Who had approached who first? Had Marlene finally found a suitable husband for her oldest daughter? Or had the Dubois family heard that the Reiters were open to marrying out their daughters and were desperate enough to approach them?

Did Valeska care?

Would Mr. Dubois happen to already be here? Marlene asked the maître d’ in her accented English. They had long learned to not assume every serviceperson in Monaco was fluent in German. French, yes, but German was not as appreciated in this corner of Europe.

Right this way.

Marlene turned to her daughter with clasped hands. It’s happening! she mouthed.

Yes. It certainly was.

When this supposed marriage was nothing but theoretical, Valeska was calm and collected. Now that she was about to meet her fiancé in the flesh, however, the nerves arrived. What if he wasn’t like his pictures? What if he thought she was less than what he expected? What if he turned out to be an insufferable asshole? What if he waited until a year into their marriage to reveal that about himself?

I suppose this is why we meet ahead of time. There was nothing religious or sacrosanct about this arrangement, although both families had Catholic roots. Nobody was expected to be pure in any way, and neither family would give a flying fuck if Valeska and André made off to the nearest hotel and had sex for the next twenty-four hours. They’d probably encourage it. That way the kids could make sure they were sexually compatible.

Instead, the arrangement was purely for business purposes. And, Valeska supposed, assuring both the Dubois and Reiters that their children would marry into perfectly acceptable families. Both sides had plenty of political and financial gain to exploit from the match. Frenchman marrying Austrian woman could only bring terrific things to the families.

To the individual? That remained to be seen.

Oh, Leska, there is a crease in your dress. Marlene grabbed her daughter by the shoulders, startling the poor woman the moment they reached André’s table.

He looked up from his notebook. Oh. Hello.

That was it. That was their magnanimous first meeting they could tell their children about someday. A beautiful day in Monaco. The restaurant was empty save for our table. The wine was smooth, unlike your mother’s movements when she slammed into a chair and gave your father her best face.

Valeska had never been redder.

André stood and extended his hand. André Dubois. You must be Mademoiselle Reiter. Because his English wasn’t nice enough, he had to slip effortlessly back into his native French when he addressed Valeska for the first time. That was when she realized that the nerves weren’t only for the strangeness of their situation. It was the feverish attraction she had been harboring for André Dubois since she first heard the name only a few years ago.

Before the proposal… hell, before her ex-boyfriend… Valeska had caught a glimpse of André at a cocktail ball in Berlin. The beguiling heir of one of France’s richest families turned heads wherever he went with his sunlight-blond hair and striking brown eyes. The man was famous for his perfect manners and ability to charm half the women in the room with only one quick glance. It had certainly charmed Valeska Reiter on that fateful day. Not that she ever thought her mother would soon approach her with an offer for marriage from the other side of the continent.

His appearance had changed little over the past few years. The man shaking Valeska’s hand and offering her a seat across from him was still the blond heartthrob she saw at the Berlin ball and heard attempt basic German with the locals. She had found it charming back then.

Now she found it heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

Did he detect her nerves? Because he offered her a bigger smile and insisted on pulling her chair out. Marlene hovered nearby, her smile the biggest in the room. This was already a homerun as far as she was concerned.

I’ll be back in about an hour, she told her daughter. I’m taking Mr. Howard with me to do some shopping. Marlene flashed her future son-in-law another smile of appreciation. So good to see you again, André. I hope you two have a pleasant lunch.

"Merci, Madame Reiter."

Marlene tittered on her way out of the café. The waiter brought them the wine of the day and a small menu that offered two choices in soups, salads, and a chicken or vegetarian entrée. Valeska hadn’t expected her fiancé to order the vegetarian entrée. It made her change her mind from the chicken, not because she expected him to make all of their decisions, but because she wanted to better understand the tastes of the man she agreed to marry.

When they were finally alone – no staff, no mothers, and not even any other diners – André clasped his hands on the table and said, in English, It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Reiter. Written correspondence only goes so far in the digital age.

Wasn’t it tragically romantic, though? Valeska treasured the first few letters André sent her after they agreed to meet. His handwriting alone was enough to make her tuck the letters away in an antique lockbox handed down from her Bavarian grandmother. Even if they called off the engagement, she would always have those tokens. They make me feel like one of my Victorian ancestors courting across the country. Her great-great grandmother was notorious for juggling three suitors at once before finally settling on an Austrian gentleman who offered her land, horses, and a title.

The title had been politically removed over the generations, but the legacy – and riches – were still there. In truth, Valeska didn’t have to marry anyone. She could take her inheritance and retire to a quiet hamlet in Germany and be set for life. Yet her filial nature dictated she should contribute to the family that raised her and gave her so many opportunities in some meaningful way. She was not destined for greatness in any career, nor was she artistic enough to make that her legacy. Valeska knew her strength and weaknesses. One of her greatest strengths was managing a household and tactfully bridging the gulfs between unlike minds. This marriage offer played right into both strengths.

The fact that André Dubois was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen didn’t mean anything. Nope. Not at all.

It’s the main reason I’m foolishly agreeing to do this.

It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Her English was as technically correct as his, but her Austrian accent made her think she sounded like a goat braying across the English Channel. Unfortunately, English was the only language they could communicate in. Valeska had already begun more intensive French lessons, but she didn’t have a knack for picking up languages. She also did not expect André to put much effort into learning German. So, English it was for now.

They fell silent while Valeska draped her napkin across her lap. One of her black curls brushed against her finger. Strange. She could’ve sworn the curls were tighter when she stepped out of the salon that morning. Were they already falling out? Curls didn’t come naturally to her, but they were certainly more flattering than her straight hair.

So much for looking picture perfect for her future husband.

Bit silly, isn’t it?

She looked up from her curl. Excuse me?

André acted as if he had something to apologize for. This situation. His accent slipped. In time, Valeska would learn that every time he acquired that ponderous look on his long face, his French accent was about to overtake his English. She would always look forward to it. It’s silly. Our parents say we should marry because it is good for us. We say it’s okay. Here we are.

Valeska chuckled. Guess it is a bit silly. Why was she the one feeling embarrassed now? Wouldn’t it make him silly as well?

Oh, no.

Did this mean he wanted to renege on their engagement already? Not that it was formally written down yet. Nobody had witnessed them both agreeing to marry one another. They could walk away right now and the only people bothered would be their mothers.

We don’t know each other. I haven’t met you before today. Yet you say you will marry me? André leaned back in his seat, a devilish grin on his face. Why not torture me some more, Mr. Dubois? It’s interesting.

To be fair, I am under the impression that you have agreed as well.

I have. Do you have a reason for us to drop the engagement now? Before my mother finishes planning our engagement party, anyway.

Valeska was taken aback. She hadn’t expected their lunch to start this way. Personal questions, sure, but jumping right into, Why are we doing this? How was she supposed to respond? Perhaps if we know each other long enough, I will come up with a reason.

André laughed. I like your wit, Ms. Reiter.

Please. It is Valeska.

Valeska. Her name sounded so coarse on his French lips. The look he gave her also implied he wasn’t used to saying such a German-sounding name. Brunhild would be more poetic than Valeska. Yes. Of course. It’s a beautiful name, so I should say it.

Okay, now he was only saying things to make her happy. Or maybe that was Valeska’s self-doubt manifesting once more.

So why do you want to marry me, Valeska? Please be honest. Even if it’s to say you want my family’s money.

Her eyes widened. Excuse me?

He remained unfazed. Just to better understand this silly situation, Valeska. What is your main reason for marrying me? That is the first thing we should know about each other. Do you not agree?

The questions clocked her one after another. Valeska suddenly wished that her mother would return and save her from this