to meet
the black eyes that gazed down at her from beneath their
hooded lids. For one fleeting second she thought she
detected a glint of humour in them, but then his shadowed
face was once again as severe as the tone of his deep,
strangely alluring voice, as he said to Celine, ‘If you can
bring yourself to do it, I should appreciate an introduction,
Celine.’
Celine’s response was delivered through gritted teeth.
‘Claudine, may I present Francois de Rassey de Lorvoire.
Francois, my niece, Claudine Rafferty.’
Thank you,’ he answered. ‘Now, as Mademoiselle
Rafferty has seen fit to inform half of Paris as to the purpose
of her visit here today, I’m sure there are a number of people
in this room requiring details of her first introduction to me.
Perhaps you would care to oblige, Celine.’
Celine’s gasp of outrage took his eyes, which had not yet
moved from Claudine’s, to hers. ‘How dare you!’ she
hissed. ‘I am not a servant to be dismissed …’
‘Celine, please go.’
Claudine watched as her aunt drew herself to her full
height and stalked off. Then turning back to Francois, she
said, ‘Was it necessary to be so rude?’
‘Shall we just say I try not to disappoint expectation,’ he
answered smoothly. ‘Now, unless you want to stand here
being ogled by the entire gathering, I suggest we take a walk
in the garden.’
There was an unmistakable lull in the general conversation
as Francois held open the door for her to walk out
ahead of him. She followed him through the dimly lit hall,
past the wide mahogany staircase and into a small, untidy
sitting-room. Curtains fluttered at the tall, open windows,
and Francois stepped over the sill onto the gravelled
courtyard outside, then turned back to give her his hand.
For a moment Claudine was confounded by the extreme
tightness of her skirt, and looking up, saw his eyes narrow
with impatience at her hesitation. By the time she had
hitched her dress up over her thighs, however, he had
already started down the wide stone steps that led down to
the water garden. He neither stopped nor turned round
when she started to follow - and pride prevented her from
hurrying after him.
When at last she caught up with him, he was standing
with one foot on the low wall surrounding a small, circular
fountain where three cherubs with arms and wings
entwined in stone spouted water from their pouting lips. He
had rested his arms on his knee and was gazing thoughtfully
down at the goldfish darting about in the pool.
Joining him, Claudine perched on the wall, and crossing
her legs demurely at the ankles began trailing a hand through the cool water. After a while the silence became uncomfortable. She was hunting about in her mind for a way
to begin, yet at the same time was stubbornly determined
not to. After all, he was the host, it was the correct thing for
him to address her first. But the awkwardness became so
insufferable that, unable to disguise her irritation, she said
at last, ‘Do you intend to speak at all?’
To her amazement and outrage, he merely threw her a
quick glance, then returned to his study of the fish.
She stood up, and as she walked round him he pulled at
his bow tie, loosening the knot until it was free of his collar.
Then he resumed his stance. The most infuriating thing
was that he gave every appearance of being completely
oblivious to her discomfort.
‘What were you thinking when you looked at me earlier?’
she demanded.
Casting her a look from the corner of his eye, he said, ‘I
wasn’t aware of thinking anything.’
Claudine decided to swallow her temper and try a
different approach. ‘Papa tells me you were delayed in
Paris,’ she ventured.
There was a brief pause before he spoke, but still he
didn’t look up. ‘My apologies for keeping you waiting.’ His
tone was so thick with sarcasm that she felt the colour rush
to her cheeks.
‘If the apology were meant
the black eyes that gazed down at her from beneath their
hooded lids. For one fleeting second she thought she
detected a glint of humour in them, but then his shadowed
face was once again as severe as the tone of his deep,
strangely alluring voice, as he said to Celine, ‘If you can
bring yourself to do it, I should appreciate an introduction,
Celine.’
Celine’s response was delivered through gritted teeth.
‘Claudine, may I present Francois de Rassey de Lorvoire.
Francois, my niece, Claudine Rafferty.’
Thank you,’ he answered. ‘Now, as Mademoiselle
Rafferty has seen fit to inform half of Paris as to the purpose
of her visit here today, I’m sure there are a number of people
in this room requiring details of her first introduction to me.
Perhaps you would care to oblige, Celine.’
Celine’s gasp of outrage took his eyes, which had not yet
moved from Claudine’s, to hers. ‘How dare you!’ she
hissed. ‘I am not a servant to be dismissed …’
‘Celine, please go.’
Claudine watched as her aunt drew herself to her full
height and stalked off. Then turning back to Francois, she
said, ‘Was it necessary to be so rude?’
‘Shall we just say I try not to disappoint expectation,’ he
answered smoothly. ‘Now, unless you want to stand here
being ogled by the entire gathering, I suggest we take a walk
in the garden.’
There was an unmistakable lull in the general conversation
as Francois held open the door for her to walk out
ahead of him. She followed him through the dimly lit hall,
past the wide mahogany staircase and into a small, untidy
sitting-room. Curtains fluttered at the tall, open windows,
and Francois stepped over the sill onto the gravelled
courtyard outside, then turned back to give her his hand.
For a moment Claudine was confounded by the extreme
tightness of her skirt, and looking up, saw his eyes narrow
with impatience at her hesitation. By the time she had
hitched her dress up over her thighs, however, he had
already started down the wide stone steps that led down to
the water garden. He neither stopped nor turned round
when she started to follow - and pride prevented her from
hurrying after him.
When at last she caught up with him, he was standing
with one foot on the low wall surrounding a small, circular
fountain where three cherubs with arms and wings
entwined in stone spouted water from their pouting lips. He
had rested his arms on his knee and was gazing thoughtfully
down at the goldfish darting about in the pool.
Joining him, Claudine perched on the wall, and crossing
her legs demurely at the ankles began trailing a hand through the cool water. After a while the silence became uncomfortable. She was hunting about in her mind for a way
to begin, yet at the same time was stubbornly determined
not to. After all, he was the host, it was the correct thing for
him to address her first. But the awkwardness became so
insufferable that, unable to disguise her irritation, she said
at last, ‘Do you intend to speak at all?’
To her amazement and outrage, he merely threw her a
quick glance, then returned to his study of the fish.
She stood up, and as she walked round him he pulled at
his bow tie, loosening the knot until it was free of his collar.
Then he resumed his stance. The most infuriating thing
was that he gave every appearance of being completely
oblivious to her discomfort.
‘What were you thinking when you looked at me earlier?’
she demanded.
Casting her a look from the corner of his eye, he said, ‘I
wasn’t aware of thinking anything.’
Claudine decided to swallow her temper and try a
different approach. ‘Papa tells me you were delayed in
Paris,’ she ventured.
There was a brief pause before he spoke, but still he
didn’t look up. ‘My apologies for keeping you waiting.’ His
tone was so thick with sarcasm that she felt the colour rush
to her cheeks.
‘If the apology were meant
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