Wild Lavender by Belinda Alexandra

Author:Belinda Alexandra [Alexandra, Belinda]
Language: eng, fra
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, France, Historical, Paris, Romance, Showbiz
ISBN: 9780730443858
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2004-03-31T11:00:00+00:00

Count Kessler took me to Ciro’s for dinner one evening, when André was in Paris with Mademoiselle Canier for his mother’s annual charity ball. I enjoyed the Count’s company whenever we went out. Although he was an aristocrat, there was something about him that reminded me of my father. Perhaps it was the curiosity that sparkled in his eyes, as if the wonders of the world could never grow dim in his sight.

After we had ordered our food, the Count turned to me and said, ‘I think André is growing weary of Mademoiselle Canier, don’t you? Let us hope he doesn’t bring her back with him.’

The Count must have noticed my shocked expression because he let out a hearty laugh. ‘Come now,’ he said, ‘admit it. You would rather spend a week in a stalled railcar than an hour with Mademoiselle Canier. I see how you politely suffer her. God, I’ve seen how André politely suffers her. She is like one of those stunning pieces of furniture you buy when you are in a foreign country. It has no practical purpose so you put it on display in a corner and after a while you cease to notice it.’

‘But he is in love with her,’ I said, remembering André’s fond glances in Mademoiselle Canier’s direction.

The Count regarded me with amused interest. ‘You think so?’ he said. ‘She is the daughter of one of his mother’s friends. Mind you, she is not any more empty-headed than the other girls in his circle. André probably made the best choice he could have … at the time.’

The Count gave me such a pointed look that I blushed. I sensed that he saw right through me and my feelings for André. ‘You are being callous,’ I protested.

‘Hah!’ he laughed again. ‘Don’t think Mademoiselle Canier’s feelings will be hurt. André is merely at the top of her list of eligible bachelors. She will move on to Antoine Marchais, one of the Michelins or the Bouchayer boy without blinking an eye.’

I wondered if what the Count said was true. He and André were close, so the Count, if anybody, would know what André’s real feelings were.

‘If I ask you something, Count Harry, will you kept it a secret and not make fun of me?’

‘Make fun of you, Mademoiselle Fleurier?’ the Count replied, feigning a scandalised expression. ‘Never!’

‘Do you think … I mean … would it be possible … for two very unlikely … ’

I had muddled my beginning and now could not bring myself to finish my sentence. I suddenly realised how ridiculous it would be to declare my feelings. I was a music hall singer. André was the son of a powerful family. There was no reason why we should not mingle socially, but beyond that… No, anything else was impossible.

‘Mademoiselle Fleurier,’ said the Count, tapping my arm, ‘you haven’t finished your question. You have me in suspense now. Two very unlikely what?’

I had dug myself into a hole and now I was going to have to climb out of it.

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