The Paris Trip: A feel-good, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Maeve was just about able to follow that rapid, furious flow of French. Though even if she hadn’t caught most of the words, the meaning behind Liselle’s glare would have been unmistakable.

‘Calm down.’ Leo stepped swiftly between the two of them.

Maeve winced inwardly at this awkward choice of words; she could have told him that wasn’t the best thing for a man to say to an angry woman. But he was about to discover that for himself, she suspected.

‘Calm down?’ Liselle repeated, staring across the room at him. The redhead looked almost feral, lips drawn back from her teeth in a snarl. ‘You can’t do this to me, Leo,’ she snapped, the words tumbling out of her mouth at top speed. ‘Your exhibition is coming up. Sascha called earlier to say it’s all set up and there’s a huge buzz about it. Don’t you get it? This isn’t just about you anymore. I’ve staked my reputation on this exhibition; you can’t simply leave. I’ll look like an idiot.’

‘Trust me, I’ll be there. With a good range of paintings, ready for the grand reveal.’ Leo strode across and put a hand on her shoulder, his voice surprisingly calm now given the major upheaval he’d just been through. ‘You always knew this would happen one day, Liselle. Well, things have finally come to a head between me and my father, so that day has come. I’m leaving Chateau Rémy.’

‘But why now?’

‘Because I couldn’t stomach his behaviour anymore. The sly remarks, the demands, the insults…’ He grimaced. ‘Besides, you didn’t hear what he said to me just now. Or how he spoke to Maeve.’

‘Oh yes, Maeve…’ Liselle’s angry gaze shot to Maeve’s face. ‘I should have known this would be something to do with her. Ever since she arrived here, you’ve been all over her.’ She shook her head with undisguised disapproval. ‘You’ve changed, Leo. You’re not the man you used to be.’

Leo’s mouth quirked. ‘Maybe not. But from my point of view, it’s a change for the better.’

His manager drew a deep breath. ‘Come downstairs with me. I’ve spoken to your father and he’s not as angry as he was. I can make him see sense.’

Now Leo was frowning. ‘What do you mean?’

‘We’ve put together a plan. It’s not ideal, but it means you can stay here and keep painting. Please, come downstairs and hear his proposition.’

Leo looked indecisive.

Feeling very much in the way, Maeve collected her stuff and went to the door. ‘This isn’t anything to do with me,’ she said lightly. ‘I’m going to my room to pack. I… I’ll speak to you again before I leave, Leo.’

Without glancing his way, she left before Leo could try to dissuade her. She didn’t like getting in the way of a family argument, and she certainly didn’t like Liselle’s accusation that she had somehow caused this split between Leo and his father just by her presence at Chateau Rémy.

Up in her quaint attic room with its low, sloping ceiling, Maeve dragged out her rucksack, which the police had given back to her emptied of her belongings. But of course there wasn’t much she could pack, unless she took Bernadette’s clothes. She hesitated, and then changed into her own jeans and tee-shirt, the outfit she’d been wearing when she missed the coach. At least they were familiar and comfortable, even if they wouldn’t suit every situation.

She was just looking tentatively through the meagre stack of Bernadette’s clothes to see if there was anything she could ask to take with her and post back later, when a knock at the door disturbed her.

‘Come in,’ she said, jumping a little. She didn’t feel strong enough to face Leo again right now. Things were so confused between the two of them.

But to her relief it was only Bernadette. ‘Oh, so it’s true,’ she said on seeing Maeve’s rucksack open on the bed, disappointment in her tone. ‘You’re packing.’

‘I thought it was best that I leave. I’ve heard from the embassy that I can go back to England anytime I choose. And I feel that I’ve caused an argument between Leo and his father, quite without meaning to. So it’s best if I go now.’ Maeve bit her lip. ‘Bernadette, would it be possible for me to take a few of your clothes with me? The ones you were so kind as to lend me? I’ll send them straight back once I’m home, I promise.’

‘Of course, take whatever you like. You don’t need to return any of them though. I have plenty of clothes.’ Bernadette paused, her bright eyes searching Maeve’s face with puzzlement. ‘I’m surprised though. I thought you and Leo… I mean, I thought there was something between you.’

Maeve swallowed, her stomach pitching. She felt suddenly vulnerable. ‘I do like your brother,’ she admitted. ‘I like him a lot, in fact. But he already has a close relationship with Liselle, doesn’t he? Besides, it’s obvious his father doesn’t approve of me. He was quite rude in the studio.’ Her voice shook and she had to stop and clear her throat.

Why did someone being horrid to her like that make her tremble? It was ridiculous. She needed to harden up. She had faced the insult he’d thrown at her without reaction at the time, but now she felt herself processing it more deeply, her sense of self-worth genuinely wounded. Was that really how she came across? As someone who was only hanging around so that she could go to bed with Leo? That idea left a bad taste in her mouth.

‘My… stepfather… is a nasty man,’ Bernadette told her passionately. ‘I hate even calling him that. He’s more like my abuser. Please, forget him. He doesn’t matter. But Leo… My brother deserves better than Liselle. He deserves someone like you. So please don’t go. I’ve never seen him so happy as he’s been this past week. And I think you two suit each other well.’

Hot-cheeked, Maeve began folding some of Bernadette’s clothes very unevenly into her rucksack. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’

But that was a lie. She did know. And she secretly agreed. There was something between her and Leo, and it was both strong and surprising. She hadn’t expected to come to Paris and meet someone who could potentially change her life. And yet here she was, and now they were going to be parted almost as soon as they’d found each other. It seemed so unfair.

Still, Leo hadn’t said anything to indicate that he felt the same. She was just guessing at his feelings, beyond his clear desire to keep painting her. And she certainly wasn’t going to make a fool of herself by declaring how she felt. Especially not given the uncomfortable argument she’d just witnessed.

‘I left Leo downstairs with his father,’ Bernadette told her, ‘discussing the future of the business. I think they may be coming to some agreement that will allow Leo to keep running things here in Paris, but spend more time painting too. And forSébastien not to live here. Though I can’t believe he’ll be happy to leave.’

Remembering how Sébastien Rémy had strutted about, lording it over all of them with insufferable rudeness, Maeve had to agree.

‘And Leo? How does he feel about that?’

‘I’m not sure but I imagine he’ll be tempted. He loves Paris. And the chateau. He’s put so much into the business too, he won’t want to walk away now.’ Bernadette studied her curiously. ‘And how do you feel about Leo?’

Maeve didn’t know how to respond. ‘What does it matter what I think or feel? None of this is anything to do with me.

‘Is that so?’ Bernadette hugged her impulsively, and Maeve held her breath, astonished. ‘You can’t pretend, you know. I’ve seen how you look at my brother. And maybe you can help him.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Leo needs a clean break from Chateau Rémy. Somewhere he can clear his head. Madame Rémy suggested that he could accompany Sophie and Marie back to Bordeaux. The three of them will be taking the train down tomorrow, I believe.’ She hesitated. ‘Maybe you could go with them?’

Maeve felt like the breath had been knocked out of her. Go to Bordeaux? With Leo and his nieces? ‘But I have to go home,’ she said blankly.

‘Are you sure? Even if it means never seeing Leo again?’

‘I can’t just stay in France indefinitely.’

‘No, but the British Embassy… Did they insist you had to leave immediately?’

‘No, they gave me a temporary passport, until the new one arrives, and said I could stay a little longer if I wanted, after all the upset of being mugged. But I think they meant, stay in Paris. Not go gallivanting about the French countryside with Leo Rémy.’ Maeve put her hands to her cheeks and shook her head. ‘Oh, I’m so confused. I… I don’t know what to think anymore.’

‘Then maybe we should talk about it,’ came a deep voice from the doorway.

She turned guiltily to see Leo standing there, listening to them.

How long had he been there? What had he heard?

Bernadette gave an embarrassed chuckle and hurried away. ‘Take all the clothes you want, Maeve. I’ll see you later,’ was all she said, discreetly closing the door behind her.

Leo stood unmoving, arms folded across his broad chest, his gaze on her face. There was a strange light about him.

‘You heard, I take it?’ he asked.

‘Only that you’ve come to some kind of arrangement with your father.’ She hovered by the bed, awkwardly folding and refolding one of Bernadette’s dresses, not really aware of what she was doing. She only needed one alternative warmer outfit for her trip back to England, yet she seemed to be packing summer dresses instead. Was her subconscious trying to tell her something? ‘I’m glad. I hated the idea that you’d argued with your father over me.’

‘I’m still taking a break,’ he said shortly. ‘Though you already know that.’ He hesitated. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing what you said to my sister. I hope you’ll change your mind. I’d love you to come with me.’

‘To the vineyard in Bordeaux?’

He came closer, his dark, intent gaze searching her face. ‘It’s a marvellous place, Cave Rémy. I spent many happy holidays there as a boy. I’d like you to see it.’

‘I should g-go home,’ she stammered.

‘Why?’

The direct question threw her, and she had to stop and think. Which wasn’t easy. Right now, any kind of rational thought felt like trying to force a watermelon through a colander. All that came out the other side was mush.

‘Because…’ She halted, conflicted.

‘Because you should? Because you’re worried what all this means?’ He had taken away the cheerful yellow summer dress she’d folded very badly and was shaking it out. His voice was calm as he arranged its silky folds more carefully, every one of his movements graceful, almost ritual. ‘I understand that. So I’m asking you to take a chance, Maeve. A chance on me,’ he added softly, ‘and on whatever this is.’

By this, he must mean the strange electricity in the small attic room, she decided, and tried to suppress the wobbly sensation inside that the mere sound of his voice seemed to have inflicted on her. And the fear that one of her legs had inexplicably grown longer than the other. For otherwise, why would she be listing so oddly to one side, her knees and assorted leg muscles and ligaments suddenly weak as limp spaghetti?

It was nerves, pure and simple. What else could it be? She was nervous about travelling home at last. Nothing to do with Leo Rémy asking her to accompany him to his family vineyard in Bordeaux.

How ridiculous she was being.

He was still waiting, his gaze steady on her face now.

Terror jolted through her.

And exhilaration.

Now it was her time to ask the difficult question.

‘Why?’ she whispered, all her fears and uncertainties and shining hopes somehow wrapped up in that one unpromising syllable.

Leo handed her the neatly folded dress. ‘Because I think it would be a mistake to ignore what’s been going on here. For both of us.’ His smile was slow and filled her with heat. ‘And because I think you feel the same.’