“How is she?” A frown of genuine concern clouded Philippe’s classical features as he came back into Jean Marc’s room a few minutes later. “Poor little cabbage.We should have guessed what was troubling her.” His blue eyes were suddenly twinkling. “God knows, we’ve both undone our share of corsets.”
“I’d say you’ve undone more than your share,” Jean Marc said dryly. “You have no discrimination. Any pair of thighs are fine as long as they welcome you.”
“Untrue.” Philippe’s grin widened. “The thighs must be shapely and the lady clean and sweet-smelling. Other than that I have no prejudices.” He added simply, “I like them all.”
And women liked Philippe, Jean Marc thought. Females young and old seemed to sense Philippe’s fascination with their sex and responded generously with both their bodies and their company. “Do you have the legal agreements I asked you to bring from my office in Paris?”
“They’re still in my cases in the carriage.” Philippe made a face. “Only you would be concerned with business while you lie there with a dagger wound. Are you trying to become the richest man in France?”
“No.” Jean Marc smiled. “The richest man in all Europe.”
Philippe chuckled. “You’ll probably do it. As for myself, I’m content to be the poor connection. It gives me more time to enjoy the pleasures of life.” His gaze wandered to the painting on the easel in the corner. “Exceptional, isn’t it? Though I can’t say I like it. I prefer my art pretty and comfortable. Pictures like that have a tendency to make one think. Very fatiguing.”
Jean Marc shot his nephew an amused glance. “Thinking. An occupation much to be avoided.”
Philippe nodded placidly. “One must conserve one’s energy for the important things in life.”
Jean Marc looked at Juliette’s painting. No, the painting wasn’t at all comfortable to view. The picture portrayed several richly dressed ladies, and gentlemen lolling in a forest glade but, other than the pastoral setting, it held none of the lush sentimentality popular with artists favored by the nobility. Strong beams of sunlight poured through the branches of the oak trees. Some leaves were unscathed, others were stark, theillumination revealing skeletal stems beneath the green foliage. When the sunlight reached the painted, powdered faces of the courtiers below the branches, the effect was even harsher. The expressions of those in the shadow were smiling and bland but the faces in the sunlight were stripped of their conventional masks, nakedly revealing pettishness, boredom, even cruelty. Yet, in spite of its brutal revelations, the painting had a certain austere beauty about it. Juliette’s brush had made the sunlight into a living entity that shone pure, undefiled as truth itself.
“It’s not often you see a woman painting at all, much less doing a painting of this nature,” Philippe said. “She’s…interesting, isn’t she?”
“But far too young for you,” Jean Marc said quickly, his gaze leaving the painting to return to Philippe’s face.
“I’m not so corrupt,” Philippe said indignantly. “She has practically no breasts. I, at least, wait until a woman blossoms.”
Jean Marc chuckled. “Well, this child will no doubt have some sharp thorns when she blossoms.”
“All the more interesting to pluck. But it’s you who enjoys difficult women. I would never have attempted to tame that little virago you’re keeping in such splendor in Marseilles. Too much effort.”
Jean Marc smiled reminiscently. “A challenge is never too much effort. Léonie is exceptional.” Jean Marc’s smile faded as he recalled that Philippe had a very good idea why he chose the type of women he did to bed.
“So is a beauteous wolf but I wouldn’t want to bed her. Don’t you ever choose a woman with less—” He stopped. “I’m looking forward to sampling the favors of the ladies of the court at Versailles.”
“They have no liking for bourgeoisie like ourselves. You’re better off at Vasaro with your Maisonette des Fleurs than you would be in those noblewomen’s bedchambers. They’d devour you.”
“Would they? What a blissful prospect,” Philippe murmured. His smile faded and his big white teeth pressed worriedly into his lower lip. “I didn’t know youwere aware of my little cottage, Jean Marc. I assure you it’s only a small indulgence and it doesn’t interfere with my running Vasaro.”
“I know it doesn’t. You’re doing fine work caring for Catherine’s inheritance. If you weren’t, you would have heard from me before.”
“And why am I hearing from you now?”
“I want no outraged fathers applying to me for aid for their ravished daughters.”
“Ravished?” Philippe’s tone was indignant. “I seduce, not rape. No unwilling woman has ever come to Les Fleurs.”
“Make sure the circumstances remain unchanged, and you’ll have no argument from me.”
“I wouldn’t cause you distress, Jean Marc.” Philippe gravely met his gaze. “I know how fortunate I am to have this post. I enjoy my life at Vasaro.”
“And Vasaro evidently enjoys you.” Jean Marc suddenly smiled. “At least the female population of Vasaro does. I simply thought it best we clarify the situation.”
Philippe’s gaze narrowed on Jean Marc’s face. “Is that why you asked me to leave Vasaro and accompany Catherine here?”
“I asked you because I knew you would guard Catherine and I find your company stimulating.”
“And because you wished to issue a warning to keep my pleasures separate from my duties.” Philippe smiled slowly. “So why not accomplish a threefold purpose, eh?”
“Why not, indeed?”
