Predictably, Freddie balked.
Alex huffed. “See? You don’t even know what you want. ButIdo. So stay out of my way,” she tossed off as she stormed down the hallway.
“Whatever is really going on here, it won’t matter,” her sister called out just before she turned the corner, not sounding the least bit cowed. “No one will ever believe he wants you.”
Alex didn’t stop. She outran the cresting wave of anger that nipped at her heels until she reached her bedroom. Then she shut the door soundly behind her and pressed her back against it.
It was the absolute certainty in Freddie’s voice that rankled the most. Along with the faint whisper in her own mind.
She’s right.
But before Alex could be swallowed up by doubts, she pushed away from the door and stalked over to her closet. Then she pulled out her valise and tossed it onto the bed. If she hurried, she could be back in London for tea, where she wouldn’t have to answer any insipid questions or explain her behavior. Where she was gloriously invisible—until someone wanted something from her.
She threw in clothes, stockings, and shoes without really seeing them. All that mattered was getting out of here. The country had grown tiresome. And she had a train to catch.
Nine
Not two days after striking a tentative agreement with Alex, Lucien found himself in the frigid hallway of a London apartment building, cold, tired, hungry, andverylate. He had not spent much time in London apart from a few days here and there over the years and had gotten properly lost on his way from the train station. Then it began to rain, which quickly turned into a downpour. For a brief moment Lucien considered popping into a pub to wait the storm out but decided to save his coin and make a run for it instead.
Now he was a few shillings richer but absolutely soaked to the bone. Just as another tooth-rattling shiver came over him, Alain Fournier threw open the door, handsome as ever and the very epitome of French refinement.
“There you are, Lucien! I was just about to man a search party for you,” he said in heavily accented English before kissing both of Lucien’s cheeks. Then he drew back and his dark eyes skimmed over Lucien’s dripping clothes in horror. “Come inside right this instant! You’ll catch your death out there. The landlord keeps this building as cold as a nun’s tit, but the hearth is blazing.”
Lucien chuckled through his chattering teeth as he crossed the threshold. “Thank you.”
He had forgotten that Alain had a tendency to fuss over people he cared about. Luckily, Lucien could use a little fussing at the moment. The flat was small but cozy, just two rooms from what Lucien could see, and the hearth was indeed blazing with the comforting glow of lit coals.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Alain said with a grand sweep of the hand.
“Sorry I’m so late,” Lucien said as Alain took his coat. “And wet.”
But Alain clucked his tongue. “Do not apologize for your country’s abysmal weather. But please stay here while I fetch you a towel. Though you are my dear friend, that does not mean I want you ruining my carpet.”
Alain was not serious about much apart from textiles and good chocolate. With his eye for detail and penchant for sweets, he could have easily become a master pâtissier. But instead he had chosen hospitality services.
Lucien did his best not to drip on the floor while Alain disappeared into the bedroom. “A lovely place you have here,” he called out.
Despite the small size, the flat was elegantly decorated.
“Ah, thank you,” Alain replied in a slightly muffled voice. “I have become friendly with the hotel’s very handsome designer and he always gives me the best castoffs.”
“Oh, that’s convenient.”
Alain reentered the main room carrying a towel with a robe draped over his arm. “It is, rather. Though I won’t tell you what I had to do for that armchair in the corner,” he added with a saucy wink.
Lucien laughed again and accepted the towel. “Your ingenuity never fails to impress me.”
“One day I will not be this beautiful,” Alain lamented with a dramatic sigh as he brushed a hand through his thick dark hair. “So I must make the best of it while still I can.”
Lucien let out a muffled snort while he rubbed the towel over his damp hair. “I’m sure you will make a very lovely older gentleman one day.”
“Ugh! Do not evenspeakof such things.” Alain then thrust the robe at him. “Take off your clothes and put this on.”
It was one of the softest things Lucien had ever held. “Very nice. Is it also from the designer?”
Alain looked offended “Non!I took it myself from the hotel.” Then his sharp gaze fell on Lucien’s satchel. “Is that all you brought?” Alain clucked his tongue before he could answer. “Then Rene really did clean you out.”
“To nearly my last franc,” Lucien admitted plainly as he unbuttoned his wet shirt. Alain had known Lucien’s former business partner even longer than he had, yet he too had been shocked by their mutual friend’s duplicitousness.
