Guarded Heart by Jennifer Blake

my ennui, I discover you on my trail. I must surrender at once and take what comes to me.”
    â€œEspecially if it may be the lady, I do see,” she replied with a moue of irritation for his blithe manner. “No, I won’t help you there. Ariadne has had enough to overset her without adding a daring English devil to the list.”
    â€œOther than the passing of her husband you mean?”
    Maurelle tipped her head in assent. “Her parents are no longer alive, nor her brother.”
    â€œOh, yes, so she told me. An epidemic of misfortune, it seems.” He went on with barely a pause. “So now she is alone.”
    â€œIn a manner of speaking.”
    His hostess hesitated, but shrugged whatever she might have added away as if too unimportant to mention. Gavin let it go as well. Rising to his feet, he moved to the side table where Solon had left his hat and cane. “But she has you, madame. And I shall do my poor best to see that she is not injured by whatever misbegotten specimen of manhood has earned her dislike. That will, you perceive, be my sole contribution to making her visit useful and long, a thrill everlasting.”
    â€œWill it?” Madame Maurelle Herriot murmured, tapping her teeth with a fingernail and staring after him when he had bowed over her hand and taken himself from the breakfast room out onto the gallery overlooking the courtyard where rain still pattered down. “Will it indeed?”
    Gavin heard the quiet comment but did not bother to look back, much less answer it.

Six
    O n her return to the town house, Ariadne sent the maid Adele, young, spritely and charming in her white, kerchieflike tignon and gold earrings, to the kitchen where she might dry her skirts before the fire. Pausing on the gallery outside the salon, she removed her bonnet and gave her rain cloak into Solon’s keeping so it would not drip on the carpets. She smoothed her hair and shook out the skirts of her walking costume of forest green broadcloth, then moved to join her hostess whom she had caught sight of through the French doors.
    Maurelle looked up from the letter she was penning at her secrétaire to give Ariadne a quick smile. “There you are at last. I expected you back an hour ago, chère. Are you quite drowned?”
    â€œVery near it,” she answered on a low laugh. “I’d almost forgotten how it rains here, great plopping drops so different from the civilized sprinklings of Paris.”
    â€œPour a cup of chocolate to warm yourself. Solon brought it just this moment so it’s quite hot.”
    â€œSo he told me,” Ariadne stepped to the tray where a chocolate pot painted with a spray of carnations was set out with matching cups and a crystal cake stand piled with meringues. Filling her cup, she strolled with it to the fire that burned in the coal grate beneath the mantel of white marble, holding a hand out to the flames. “He takes good care of you, your Solon.”
    â€œI hardly know what I would do without him.” Maurelle sanded her letter then folded it. “You had a successful expedition?”
    â€œMost successful.”
    â€œYou found a fencing costume then?”
    â€œCommissioned one, rather.” Her smile was roguish. “I can hardly wait to see your face when you behold it. I don’t know who was more shocked at my request, Adele or Madame Pluche.”
    Maurelle gave her a resigned look. “What have you done now?”
    â€œI shan’t tell you for fear you’ll insist I cancel the order. You’ll have to see for yourself.”
    â€œ Mon Dieu. As if fencing lessons and midnight meetings with dangerous swordsmen weren’t enough. Keep this pace, and even your besotted Russian may desert you.”
    â€œIf only he would. How do you discourage a man who believes himself indispensable to your existence?”
    â€œWith ease, if you are certain it’s what you want. I have been meaning to