At The French Baron's Bidding. Fiona Hood-Stewart

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СКАЧАТЬ you and Henri told me you’d be on the four-fifty, so I came to pick you up,’ he replied matter-of-factly.

      ‘Well, that’s very nice of you,’ she said, hoping her tone was dampening enough, and willing her pulse not to beat quite so hard, ‘but Henri had no business telling you my whereabouts.’ Another time she’d leave specific instructions not to reveal her plans.

      ‘I think he assumed you would like to be picked up,’ he said mildly, taking her case and slipping his hand protectively about her shoulders as two heavily laden backpackers nearly collided with her on the crowded platform. ‘I believe you are not very familiar with Paris?’

      ‘No, I’m not,’ she acknowledged crossly, wishing she could calm the agitation that being next to him caused. Then, as they began walking down the platform, she saw Raoul signal to an older man in a grey suit and tie.

      ‘May I introduce Pierre?’ Raoul said smoothly, as they reached him. ‘He drives for me. We shall be taking mademoiselle to the Saugure apartment in the Place François Premier, Pierre.’ His tone was polite, yet there was no doubt that the words were an order. Natasha felt strangely exhilarated and annoyed. How dared he swan into her life and simply take over? What if she’d wanted to go somewhere else rather than the apartment?

      She was about to protest when by chance her eyes fell on the large queue waiting for taxis. It went against the grain, but she swallowed her words. It was really much simpler and more agreeable to be driven, even though Raoul’s manner was intolerably high-handed. Of course she’d have to make it very plain indeed that she was not going to be herded around Paris at his pleasure, she reflected, climbing into the Bentley that had materialized as though by magic. She had her own plans for her Parisian stay, and they did not include Raoul d’Argentan.

      Or at least they hadn’t up until now.

      ‘I thought you’d enjoy dining here,’ Raoul said a few hours later as they glanced at their menus over the candlelit dinner table.

      Natasha wasn’t quite certain how she’d ended up at Laurent’s with Raoul. It had all happened in such a natural manner that she’d barely noticed the time go by. First she’d been enchanted by the apartment, situated in one of Paris’s loveliest squares. It was ample, elegant, and beautifully decorated. Very different from the stiff formality of the Manoir, as though another hand had been at work here. The housekeeper, Madame Duvallier, a large middle-aged woman with a warm smile and an efficient manner, who had worked with the old Comtesse for many years, had made her most welcome. She’d also greeted Raoul warmly, and it had been plain to Natasha that he was an habitué.

      Now, as they sat at the candlelit table, she decided to question him. ‘Have you come often to Grandmère’s apartment?’ she asked, after they’d ordered and the menus had been removed.

      ‘Quite frequently. My parents and she were friends. So, yes, I’ve been in and out over the years. Lately the Comtesse had asked me for some advice about her affairs. In fact, I’m quite surprised she never told me that you were to be her heir,’ he added, with that same critical stare that left her feeling as though he was suspicious of her.

      Natasha bristled. ‘I don’t see why she should have. After all, I didn’t know myself.’

      ‘No, but—’ He cut off his words, shook his head and smiled. ‘It is of no importance. Do not let us spoil such a pleasant evening by conjecturing over things which we cannot alter in any case.’

      The logic of his argument struck home. There was little use in trying to figure out the old Comtesse’s motives. She might as well do as he said, and enjoy the lovely atmosphere of the restaurant.

      ‘Do you plan to make a long stay in Paris?’ Raoul enquired as they sipped champagne, and Natasha felt a delicious headiness take hold of her.

      ‘I really don’t know. But very soon I’ll have to decide whether or not I’m returning to my job. I took two months off. But after that I’ll need to make a definite decision as to the future.’

      ‘Do you enjoy your job?’ he asked curiously, his eyes boring into hers.

      ‘I do enjoy it, yes. It has been very fulfilling. But…’ She hesitated, something stopping her from confiding in him.

      ‘But?’ He prodded gently, determined to get her to tell him what was on her mind.

      ‘Well, it’s just that all this has been so unexpected. I mean, how could I have imagined when I left Khartoum that my life would take such a strange turn?’

      ‘No, you couldn’t, could you?’ he murmured, still sizing her up while accepting the caviar the waiter had placed before them. ‘Now things seem very different?’

      ‘Yes.’ She hesitated, then decided to risk it and tell him how she felt. Expressing it might help her understand better herself. ‘Now it’s as though I have a new path that I must follow. Not that I’m certain yet,’ she added hastily. ‘It’s too soon for me to take such a radical decision. The thing is that if I don’t remain here—or at least at the Manoir—I’ll probably have to sell it.’

      ‘Sell the Manoir?’ Raoul’s cup hit the saucer with a crack. ‘You can’t sell the Manoir. It has been in the Saugure family for almost three centuries. The original house much longer than that. It’s unthinkable.’ His voice cut the air like a knife and his dark eyes flashed with anger.

      ‘I know that. But all things have to move on at some point,’ she reasoned thoughtfully.

      ‘That is a ridiculous statement,’ he bit back. ‘Selling the Manoir is out of the question.’

      ‘Might I remind you,’ she said, drawing herself up, ‘that it really is none of your business what I do with my property.’

      ‘You can remind me as much as you like,’ he answered, his burning eyes meeting hers full on in a clash of wills, ‘but I assure you, mademoiselle, that I will personally make your life as difficult as possible should you even contemplate such an action. Mon Dieu. What would Marie Louise do if she could hear you? She must be turning in her grave at this very instant.’ He sent her a withering look across the table and signalled the waiter for the bill.

      ‘I don’t see how you can stop me if I do decide to sell,’ Natasha challenged, furious at his meddling. ‘I have every right to do whatever I like with all three properties. Neither you nor anyone can stop me.’

      ‘Technically I may not be able to stop you,’ he replied in a low, menacing voice as the waiter approached, ‘but I assure you that you would regret it if you so much as thought about selling the Manoir.’

      ‘Are you threatening me?’ Her chin jutted out and she faced him head on.

      ‘Merely warning you that you are on shaky ground when it comes to selling. You have inherited a duty to your name and your lineage,’ he threw, his tone as biting as it was derisive. ‘Surely even an Englishwoman like you can understand that? Doesn’t your bloodline mean anything to you?’

      ‘You are insupportable,’ Natasha hissed, throwing down her napkin on the table and getting up while the waiter hovered anxiously. ‘I’ll do whatever I like with my property, and I’ll thank you to leave me alone. I need neither your assistance nor your advice. Goodnight.’ On that dramatic note she swept regally from the table and made her way to the entrance of the restaurant.

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