Heaven Scent (26 page)

Leoni glanced at her. So her uncle hadn’t mentioned Marianne – not surprisingly.

‘You were late last night,’ Delphine commented as Leoni headed towards the door. ‘You weren’t actually out on a date, were you?’

Leoni turned scarlet. What on earth did it have to do with her grandmother?! ‘That’s . . . that’s none of your business,’ she stuttered, furious at being questioned like a teenager.

Delphine smiled smugly. ‘Ah, I thought so. Good. It’s about time you settled down and made someone a good wife.’

Leoni seethed. ‘Really? Like you, you mean?’ Her grandmother’s eyes narrowed irritably. ‘I seem to remember that you married Grandfather but somehow still found time to be involved in Ducasse-Fleurie.’

Delphine’s cheeks coloured delicately. ‘I admit I have dabbled with the business now and again over the years, but my marriage always came first.’

Leoni spluttered. ‘Did it? Throughout my childhood, Grandmother, all I remember is you talking about perfume – the new fragrances that were being created and the buzz it gave you when the business was doing well.’ She felt her own cheeks reddening and she looked away. ‘It was
your
passion that got me so fired up in the first place!’

Delphine was taken aback. She hadn’t known she had been any kind of inspiration to her granddaughter. ‘That’s flattering, Leoni, but I maintain that my marriage was always the most important thing in life. My father taught me that family was everything. Business is obviously vital but family, relationships, love, these things matter more than anything.’

Meeting Delphine’s clear, hazel eyes, Leoni saw the truth behind them. It astonished her; her grandmother had always been a successful businesswoman and Leoni had never really considered where Delphine had placed Ducasse-Fleurie in relation to the other aspects of her life.

‘You think I’m saying all this just to give you a hard time?’ Delphine said gently, reaching out to take Leoni’s arm.

Leoni looked down at her grandmother’s softly wrinkled hand on her arm and felt thoroughly unnerved by this exchange.

Delphine shook her head. ‘Trust me, Leoni. Business . . . success . . . they will get the blood pumping round your body like nothing else. Well, almost nothing else.’ Her eyes glinted humorously. ‘But when all is said and done, spreadsheets won’t keep you warm at night. And they certainly won’t be there for you in times of trouble. The exact opposite, if anything. Life is about balance and love has a far more enduring presence than business ever will.’ Nodding sagely, she let go of Leoni’s arm.

Leoni stared at her. Since when had her grandmother ever been this frank with her? ‘I . . . I have a flight to catch,’ she muttered.

‘Indeed.’ Delphine squared her shoulders. ‘Do give my love to Ashton, won’t you? Dear boy . . . I have such a lot of time for him. Don’t you?’

‘Er, yes, of course.’ Bemused, Leoni headed outside to her waiting car.

 

Watching Seraphina skiving off yet another lesson, Max couldn’t help feeling concerned about his sister. Seraphina hadn’t missed a single lesson before she met this boyfriend of hers and her grades were dropping alarmingly. Still, he was hardly a paragon of virtue himself. A recent incident had involved him almost burning down the library whilst smoking a sneaky joint. Feeling an uncharacteristic flash of guilt, Max had left an anonymous donation of two thousand euros in a copy of Albert Camus’
L’Étranger
on the library desk to pay for it. But, Seraphina was pushing her luck, in his opinion.

‘What are you looking at?’

Max turned to find Madeleine Lombard behind him. She was wearing a pretty floral top with jeans, her black velvet jacket over the top and a cute pair of ballet pumps. He stared at her impatiently. Why did she keep hanging around him? She was like his shadow at the moment.

‘Nothing,’ he snapped curtly. Madeleine was rather pretty, he realised. She had long brown hair, nothing special but it was clean-looking and shiny, and she had green eyes that seemed somehow kind. She looked through the window.

‘Oh, I see. Seraphina’s sneaking out again.’

‘You can’t say anything,’ Max told her fiercely, walking away.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Madeleine looked shocked as she hurried to catch up with him. ‘Why would I do something like that?’

Max shrugged. Suddenly irritated by her presence, he turned to face her. ‘I don’t know if I’ve given you the wrong impression but I’m not interested in a relationship, all right? We’re just friends.’ He started walking again but turned slightly, almost as if inviting her to accompany him.

Madeleine looked pained but she continued to walk alongside him. She was happy to spend time with him in whatever capacity he allowed her to. She followed him to the college stables and watched him saddling up one of the chestnut mares.

‘Want to come?’ he offered on the spur of the moment.

She didn’t need asking twice. Borrowing a pair of riding boots from one of the grooms, she was soon sitting astride a beautiful ebony stallion, looking very much at home. They cantered across the college grounds, ducking beneath trees and darting between them. As he always did when he rode, Max felt his anxieties melting away. He glanced at Madeleine, impressed by her skills as a rider. Vero could barely identify one end of a horse from another and he found it irksome.

‘Thanks for saving my skin when the fire alarm went off,’ he said gruffly as they pulled up by some trees. He slid off his horse and helped Madeleine down. Her eyes were bright from the ride and she shrugged.

‘Any time. I was worried you’d get kicked out.’

Max pulled up some grass. ‘Me too. My father would go ballistic. He’s such a stickler for rules.’ He said the words bitterly and kicked the grass with his boot. Madeleine put a calming hand on his arm. Impulsively, Max pulled her down on to him. He lost himself in the softness of her lips on his and his heart pounded in his chest. Abruptly, he pulled away. He didn’t want to care for her – he didn’t want to care for anyone. Pushing her away roughly, he leapt on to his horse. Glancing down at Madeleine, he saw how upset she was.

‘It’s all right,’ she told him as she got to her feet and dusted herself down. ‘You don’t need to say it. We’re just friends, nothing more.’

Sincerely regretting what had happened but having no idea how to fix it, Max kicked the flanks of his horse and cantered away, leaving a crestfallen and very confused Madeleine behind.

 

A week later, a restless Delphine summoned Yves to her office once more. She hadn’t heard from him for days and he had proved hard to get hold of, so she had left a brusque message on his answerphone, demanding a breakfast meeting at 7 a.m., making it clear that she would terminate his contract with immediate effect if he didn’t show up.

‘Ah, there you are, Monsieur Giraud,’ she said briskly as he appeared in the doorway of the breakfast salon. The shiny suit he was wearing today made him look like a cheap gangster. Delphine swept an arm grandly towards a chair.

Yves, looking slightly sweaty around the collar, took the proffered chair gratefully. He smoothed his already seal-like hair back with the palm of his hand. ‘I must apologise for not responding to your messages. I have been incredibly busy.’

‘Working on my case, I hope,’ Delphine interjected sharply.

‘Oh, yes.’ Yves nodded as he accepted the cup of coffee she had poured him. He glanced outside, enjoying the view of the splendid swimming pool with its rippling turquoise water and sloping, mosaic-covered steps. ‘What a marvellous pool . . . so inviting. Even in this weather, it’s just asking for someone to take a quick dip, isn’t it?’

Delphine scrutinised him. In her opinion, Yves was far too interested in La Fleurie; every time he visited, his admiring eyes would wander around the property as if he were sizing it up and giving it a mental valuation.

‘So, what has been distracting you to such an extent that you were unable to return my calls, Monsieur Giraud?’

Yves cleared his throat uncomfortably, wondering how he could wriggle out of the situation.

Delphine watched him, growing more impatient by the minute. He looked as though he was playing for time and that could only mean one thing – he had nothing to tell her. In which case, what the hell had he been up to all this time? Delphine was beginning to regret hiring him. She couldn’t understand it; her good friend, Cybille Thibault, had spoken so highly of him, describing him as ‘a veritable shark’ when it came to detecting, yet apart from their initial meeting some weeks back, Yves had appeared to be little more than a bumbling, incompetent fool. Unless he had a very good reason for his apparent ineptitude, Delphine planned to sack him on the spot.

Yves laced his fingers together. ‘The marriage between your grandson and Miss Hayes is definitely legal, and I can find nothing to discredit her. But maybe there is something else we can do to ensure she does not remain here at La Fleurie?’

Delphine’s eyes lit up. ‘Such as?’

Yves shrugged. ‘Perhaps I can do some digging here for a while. See if there is anything I can find out about Olivier and his life which would explain why he married her so suddenly. Did she know something about him, I wonder?’

‘Blackmail?’ Delphine uttered the word distastefully. ‘Surely not. Miss Hayes is an annoying inconvenience but I’m not sure blackmail is her style.’

‘Ah, but can you be certain?’

Delphine hesitated. She couldn’t help thinking Yves was clutching at straws. Cat Hayes, as much as she hated to admit it, seemed like a pleasant enough girl and Delphine really couldn’t imagine her in the role of blackmailer. Still, Olivier was worth an awful lot of money . . .

‘Very well,’ she said decisively, giving Yves a cold stare. ‘No one, and I mean
no one
, must know what you are doing here. You must be discretion itself while you go about your business.’

Yves nodded, getting to his feet. ‘No one will even know I’m here,’ he assured her.

Delphine felt a moment of disquiet. The look in Yves’ eyes had seemed almost triumphant. She didn’t like the man. Delphine wished for the hundredth time that Olivier hadn’t died. Or if he was going to, she thought resentfully, he might at least have done it as a single man.

 

Feeling nervous, Seraphina lay coiled round her boyfriend in the back of his flashy but rather dilapidated red Alfa Romeo. They were fully clothed but she knew he was itching to get her clothes off. Why wouldn’t he be? He was in his thirties and he’d been with tons of women – he’d told her as much.

Seraphina sighed, wishing she could pluck up the courage to go all the way. She stiffened slightly as she felt his hand stroking her denim-clad thigh. She liked it but she could never let her guard down – the thought made her panic.

Her phone buzzed in her handbag. Seraphina guiltily ignored it. She was sure it was her twin, demanding to know where the hell she’d got to and when she’d be back.

‘So, what happened with that model scout?’ her boyfriend asked, lazily trailing his fingers down her side.

Seraphina wriggled as he reached a ticklish bit and flipped her blond hair over her shoulder rather sulkily. ‘He turned out to be a creepy guy on the make,’ she admitted, feeling irrationally annoyed with her father for being right about him. ‘Bastard. Can you believe he tries it on with young girls like that?’

Seraphina had asked someone she knew from home to check out the address on the card the ‘model scout’ had given her. It didn’t exist and, after doing some digging, she’d discovered a dodgy website with dozens of sordid photographs on it, no doubt provided by innocent girls like herself who desperately wanted to be a model. It was disgusting and Seraphina couldn’t help feeling stupid that she had been so naive.

Her boyfriend shrugged. ‘It just shows you can’t trust anyone these days,’ he said smoothly, slipping her top off her shoulder. ‘So, am I invited to this perfume celebration party thing at your family’s house or not?’ he asked, languidly dropping kisses on to Seraphina’s shoulder.

Seraphina frowned. Had she mentioned the party at La Fleurie? She supposed she must have done. How else would he know about it? ‘Yes, of course you’re invited.’ She shivered, enjoying the feel of his mouth on her bare skin.

‘You might feel more . . . relaxed there,’ he suggested, his voice loaded.

Anxiously, Seraphina swallowed. ‘I-I definitely think I’ll be more relaxed at La Fleurie,’ she stammered, confused by the way she was feeling. Her body was reacting strongly to his touch but inside, she still felt like a child. A part of her wished he would give her more time.

‘Great,’ he murmured, removing his mouth from her shoulder and slipping her T-shirt back into place. ‘I can’t wait.’

‘Me neither,’ she said, feeling terrified but thrilled at the same time. She’d agreed to it now and she couldn’t back out.

 

Knowing Leoni was on her way, Ashton hurried from a meeting towards the coffee shop round the corner from the rococo-style building. He paused by Galeries Lafayette, which was lit up like a beautiful Christmas tree, despite the early hour. Catching sight of his reflection in the window, Ashton raked a hand through his hair impatiently. It was all over the place and his chin was stubbly because he hadn’t had time to shave that morning due to his early breakfast meeting.

Having registered Ducasse-Fleurie’s interest in buying the property, Ashton felt all the more determined to secure the building. The way Leoni’s lovely brown eyes had lit up when she’d seen the plans – she’d clearly fallen in love with it the same way he had. He couldn’t wait to show her round it.

Ashton went into the coffee shop, relieved to find that Leoni hadn’t yet arrived. He ordered a coffee and took a seat. He wondered what had happened with the date she had told him about last time and his stomach tightened. He had spoken to her once or twice since he had last seen her and she hadn’t mentioned it again.