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“I must tell you that Paris was buzzing with news of your departure,” he said, sliding a hand under my elbow to steer me to the dining room. I noticed, with a little start of surprise, that the others had preceded us and were already seated. “Word was out within a day or two that Eddie had used the promise of his title to lure the perfect muse away from his artistic competitors.”
I bit my lip. “I suppose it would be useless to tell you that I didn’t know who he was until we came to England?” I asked.
“Why waste your time telling me anything of the kind?” he enquired, shaking out a serviette and placing it on his lap. “After all, it doesn’t matter a jot to me how you managed to trap my brother into this engagement. Although, having been on the receiving end of your charms myself, I can well imagine the methods you employed.”
“But I didn’t!” I protested in a furious undertone. Lucy glanced sharply in our direction, and I subsided into blushing silence.
He threw a wicked grin at me, before turning to give his full attention to the footman who was hovering nearby. When he looked my way again, I was still quivering with outrage. “You should get angry more often,” he remarked casually, pouring wine into my glass. “Your beauty doesn’t need any embellishment, of course. The fact that temper brightens your eyes and adds a becoming touch of rose to your cheeks is irrelevant. But, when you draw in that harsh, little breath—yes, just like that—” he nodded approvingly, dropping his voice “—it reminds me of the sound you made when I was fucking you, and you were just about to come.”
Oddly enough, it was the dispassionate way he could speak of it, rather than the crudeness of his words, that singed my emotions. He flashed that coldly charming smile again, secure in the knowledge that I was remembering every detail of the night we had spent together. With calculated casualness, he began a conversation with his father about the acquisition of a new mill. The identity of the man to whom I had given my body—and, yes, my heart—with such desperate abandon, was no longer a mystery. For the remainder of the meal my mind insistently took me back, with a combination of embarrassment and pleasure, to that delirious afternoon, soon after my arrival in Paris.
“How did you know Paris was ‘buzzing’ about my engagement to Eddie?” I asked him later, when we were sipping tea in the parlour. Tynan, still weakened by his illness, had already retired to bed. Lucy and Eleanor were seated at a table in a corner of the room, poring over a magazine. Cad and I sat on opposite sides of the hearth watching the leaping ballet of the firelight. The very normality of the scene added to the surreal sensations I was experiencing.
“I was there.”
I started in surprise. “You were in Paris at the same time as your brother, but you didn’t come to see him?” This was the strangest family I had ever known.
“I got the distinct feeling he didn’t wish to be seen,” he replied. “Not by me, anyway. In fact, Eddie has become quite skilled over the years at evading me.” He laughed at my puzzled expression. “I have made several trips to Paris during the past few years, the purpose of which has been to apprise Eddie of certain aspects of the business that he needs to be aware of. He has managed to successfully avoid me every time.” He smiled into my eyes. “Of course, some of my visits to Paris have been more memorable than others.”
* * *
Twelve months earlier
I lay back on the velvet chaise longue while two men stood to one side of me, discussing my nipples. The conversation had been going on for some time and my left calf was cramping painfully. When I attempted to stretch my foot out, however, Maurice squealed in outrage. “Cherie! S’il vous plaît. Please, the pose you strike now is perfection, do not, I beg you, ruin it!”
I subsided, surreptitiously wiggling my toes when he wasn’t looking. He was, after all, paying me double my usual hourly rate for this private sitting, so it wouldn’t do to upset him.
“The colour and texture are quite divine, reminiscent of perfectly placed rose petals on cream silk,” Claude said pompously, regarding my errant breasts thoughtfully. “But the nipples should stand proud, and they will not stay that way.” He stuck his lower lip out sulkily and regarded me with an accusing stare.
