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Authors: Susan Barrie

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Once more she felt absurdly nervous.

Peter slipped his hand beneath her elbow and guided her toward the door. Just as they neared the door he was saying,

We must do this again, Valentine
...!

And then the French doctor stood up. Madame Faubourg looked up with a smile, Peter bowed, and Valentine felt herself coloring furiously, ridiculously.


I
hope you enjoyed your dinner, Miss Brooke,

Dr. Daudet said as he took her hand.

This place is quite famous for its food, you know. Your escort is obviously well versed in the ways of Paris.

She couldn

t tell whether he was being slightly sarcastic, or merely very affable, and she made the necessary introduction with a feeling that she was laboring hopelessly under the disadvantage of being caught out, like a schoolgirl, in something she was sure he didn

t approve of.

But Madame Faubourg made up for any possible lack of enthusiasm in the doctor

s manner as he accepted the Englishman

s hand. She positively beamed at Peter and was almost as effusive to Valentine.


If there

s one thing I love to see, it

s two young people enjoying themselves,

she said.

Two young people of the same nationality, sharing, no doubt,
all
sorts of interests in our unequaled capital. The most romantic capital in Europe!

Her glorious dark eyes looked upward and straight into Valentine

s.


You
must
bring Mr. Fairfield to one of my little evenings, Miss Brooke.
I
will send you both cards. And the next time I go into the country for the weekend you must both come! Mustn

t they, Leon?

she appealed to him. She rested her white fingers on the dark cloth of his sleeve.

You didn

t tell me that Miss Brooke already knew someone who could escort her. And now that I stop to think about it, I am quite certain
I
have met your aunt, Mr. Fairfield. She stayed for a few days with a very great friend of mine, the Comtesse de Massenet.

Peter slightly inclined his head again and murmured something about his Aunt Pat getting around when she was in Paris, although his uncle, Sir David, preferred to stick to his Norfolk acres. And while they were conducting a few exchanges Dr. Daudet looked downward at Valentine and said, not exactly in an undertone, but hardly loud enough for the others to hear,


I was going to ring you tomorrow morning, Miss Brooke, and suggest taking you to tea with my aunt. Will it be convenient, or have you—

rather dryly

—some other engagement?

She looked up at him for an instant with the determination to assure him that she had another engagement and also to inform him that there was absolutely no reason why he should trouble his aunt to entertain her. And then, even as their eyes met, the determination died. She heard herself saying in a voice that at first faltered and then grew firm and almost grateful,

That is very kind of you doctor, and of course I would love to meet your aunt. But not if it means taking up your time.

Blue eyes and dark eyes continued to hold, and she felt suddenly breathless.


I can spare the time quite easily tomorrow,

he assured her.

Once again Madame Faubourg clutched at his arm.

Then you will spare me a little of your time in the morning, Leon!

she said.

If tomorrow is going to be a slack day with you
...!

and some of the brilliance had faded from her eyes as she looked past him at Valentine.

Just
to go with me and look at those pictures in the rue La Boetie and tell me what you think about them! You know that I don

t trust my own opinion in these matters, and you are so very expert.

Her cajoling upward glance was suddenly soft.

Valentine turned quickly away, and Peter apologized for having caused an interruption to their meal.


Not at all,

Madame Faubourg said pleasantly.

We shall meet again!

And Dr. Daudet said directly to Valentine,

I will call for you tomorrow afternoon about three-thirty, Miss Brooke. But if that is too early for you I can wait.


I shall be ready,

she answered, and once again she felt breathless and wondered whether there had been an indication of breathlessness in her voice.

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

The car passed
beneath an arch into a courtyard, and Valentine had her first feeling of unpreparedness when she realized that the house she was visiting was one of the oldest houses of Paris, possibly one of its best preserved.

There was a coat of arms above the arch, and the enormously thick door facing it was iron studded. They had barely emerged from the car before the door was opened, and a very elderly manservant stood there waiting for them to enter. Leon Daudet, who had given Valentine very little information about his relative, took her arm and guided her up the steps and into the hall, where she had an impression of tapestries waving gently in the sudden current of air, and portraits that frowned on her from some infinitely black paneling.

The manservant went ahead and led the way up a staircase, curving and fanlike, and in a gallery she saw console tables loaded with China ornaments, fans, miniatures, medals, and all sorts of objets d

art. There were gilded screens and mother of pearl chests, and silver-mounted dower chests that, looked as if they had been there since the first stone of the house was laid.

The carpet was so thick that their footsteps made no sound, and when the manservant held wide a door and announced them his voice seemed to be swallowed up immediately and muffed by the richness of the pile that flowed into a damask-lined room.

Madame La Marquise de Rullecourt—and it wasn

t until she was actually presented that Valentine realized how very highly placed was the lady who had invited her to tea—was sitting in a comfortable chair beside a tea table, and she already had another visitor. He was a very brown-faced man in his late thirties, or early forties, with indolent eyes the color of cairngorm, and hair that curled crisply. There was a touch of chestnut in that hair, and there were also a few strands of gray, and he had the figure of an athlete who was just then feeling very unathletic.

He was lying stretched out at full length on a little Empire couch, with his head buried in a nest of velvet cushions, and he was disposing of a sandwich to which he had obviously helped himself. As the manservant

s voice began to make itself heard he reached for another sandwich, and his hostess shook her head at him reprovingly while she poured tea from a richly chased silver teapot.


It is too bad of you, Philippe,

she declared,

to drop in on me when I do not wish to see you!

She had high-piled white hair and a delicately powdered face, and her figure was that of a plump and comfortable dowager,

You disappear for weeks—no, months—and then when I am looking forward to meeting someone quite new you arrive without any warning whatsoever! And in addition, you sprawl all over my furniture!


My health is in a delicate condition at the moment, and I need plenty of rest,

Philippe attempted to convince her and then sprang to his feet as Dr. Daudet urged Valentine quietly but purposefully forward, and she found herself looking into the insouciant brown eyes that instantly took in every detail of her appearance.


Your pardon,
mademoiselle
!

he said and made her a grave bow.

But I only lounge in the afternoon when
I
am on the near fringes of complete exhaustion!

Then, he grinned attractively at her escort.

How flourishing you look, Leon! Every time I see you
I
feel sure that you have climbed yet another rung up the ladder that leads to the splendid isolation of a man of brains and brilliance. If only I had taken up medicine as a serious career, instead of trying to make money in other ways.


Which means, I suppose, that you are not very flourishing?

Leon remarked dryly and then went on to salute his aunt almost tenderly on both of her temptingly soft
-
looking cheeks.

She patted his hands and held on to them for a moment.

Leon! It is always good to see you, dear boy!

Her eyes were as dark and deep as his own, and the smile in them was the sort of smile he occasionally permitted himself to direct at other people.

And this is Miss Valentine Brooke? My dear—

patting the chair beside her

—come and sit here and let us get to know one another! My nephew was right—you are very English, but much younger than I expected.

Philippe intervened a little plaintively,

And am I not to be introduced to Miss Valentine Brooke?
I
am willing to inform her that she is the most English young Englishwoman I have ever met, and in addition, I have the feeling that my footsteps were purposefully directed here this afternoon!

His undisguised admiration didn

t turn her head, but she liked the little laughter wrinkles at the
corner
s of his eyes, and although there were lines of dissipation at his mouth, they didn

t detract from the pleasant shape of the mouth itself.

Have a sandwich, Miss Brooke,

he begged, offering her the plate,

before I consume them all myself. I only come here when
I
am hungry;
madame la marquise
feeds me!


Don

t take any notice of him, Miss Brooke,

the
marquise
said tolerantly; but there was quite an affectionate smile in her eyes as she shook her head at him once again.

The Comte de Villeneuve is my godson, and if I feed him it is because I once took his sins upon my shoulders, and now that they are grown so many and there is nothing very much
I
can do about them, feeding him is all that is left!


And for me there is nothing but gratitude!

the
comte
declared, laying his hand on his heart.

After which he kissed her hands, and she patted his cheek and murmured that he was quite impossible. And Leon Daudet inquired what he was really doing there, anyway.


The last I heard of you, Philippe, you were running an airline in some dusty
corner
of Africa,

he recalled, leaning gracefully against the mantelpiece and surveying the other man enigmatically.

What happened? Did you run out of funds, or were there never any passengers?


Oh, yes, there were passengers.

Philippe grinned reminiscently.

But if you

d seen some of the samples of our aircraft, you might have wondered at that. And in the end, of course, we ran out of funds. We always do!

He grimaced at Valentine.

I have discovered that one of the big disadvantages of this life,
mademoiselle
, is that for every purpose one must have money! And it is money that eludes one—perhaps because everyone else requires so much of it!


People like you certainly do,

Leon observed somewhat curtly.

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