Chapter Nine
Arielle gazed at the city of Paris from the topmost viewing platform of the Eiffel Tower, Lycos beside her, his arm around her waist. It was only one of the many sights of the city she’d seen with him.
Some she had already known from childhood visits with her mother, but even those she revelled in again, seeing them afresh with Lycos.
But then Lycos could have taken her on a tour of the sewers—a popular if eclectic tourist attraction—and she would have wanted to go.
Anywhere he wants. Anywhere at all.
While he wanted her to go with him. Be with him.
She felt an ache pluck at her that she sought to dismiss.
How long do I have with him?
She didn’t know. She didn’t even know how long he wanted to stay in Paris.
The days had been full of sightseeing, the evenings with dining out at fabulous restaurants.
And several times Lycos had taken her to the theatre, to the opera and to a concert to hear a world-famous pianist, one of her very favourites, give a heart-stopping concert performance.
Tickets had been gold-dust, but somehow Lycos had obtained them, producing them with a flourish that had made her exclaim with thrilled disbelief.
As well as the city’s sights they’d been out to Versailles, not just to tour the grand palace, but to dine with the Derenzes again at their elegant, nineteenth-century townhouse.
They had been warmly welcomed. Tara had taken her up to the nursery floor to make the acquaintance of their two young children.
Arielle had taken to Tara from the off, knowing they might have become friends, except that there would be no opportunity.
Soon I will be in England making my new life there, whatever it is to be, and this time here, in Paris, will be gone. As my life at the mas will be gone.
And her time with Lycos…
Her thoughts sheered away. She must not let them in, nor the emotions that went with them. Emotions she must not have, because there could be no purpose to them, except to cause her pain. She must take this time with Lycos only for what it was.
That it will not last. That the moment will come when he is done with Paris. Done with me. Then my time with him will end, as my time at the mas has ended.
Even with Lycos’s arm around her, she felt pain clench.
My home and Lycos. I must bear the loss of both.
Because what else could there be?
‘Lycos! Chérie—’
The woman greeting him as he and Arielle made their way into the VIP section at the fashionable racecourse on the outskirts of Paris bestowed a kiss on his cheek that lasted more than was socially necessary, enveloping him in a cloud of heavy perfume.
‘Natalie,’ he returned. Lycos shook hands with the man next to her.
He was not Natalie’s husband, but he was rich, hence Natalie’s presence in his life.
Paul Ronsard was in finance, with fingers in many pies, all of which were highly lucrative.
His amusements, other than expensive mistresses, were gambling and horse racing.
The former was how Lycos knew him, the latter was why he and Arielle were spending the afternoon here.
He saw Paul’s eyes go to Arielle. She was looking stunning in another newly-bought outfit, a cerulean-blue slub silk suit with a cinched waist and contrasting lapels.
Her hair was up and adorned by a confection that was half fascinator, half stylish hat, with a wisp of veiling that drew attention to her vivid blue eyes.
Though Lycos revelled in the fact that Arielle looked so stunning, there was something about Paul’s glance he did not care for. It was…assessing.
But he made the introduction civilly, aware, too, that Natalie was glancing at Arielle in a far from friendly fashion.
But then that was not surprising. Natalie was well into her thirties now and Arielle’s youthful freshness would not be a welcome comparison.
Women like Natalie had a limited shelf-life.
They had to make the most of it while it lasted.
Make the most of being favoured by rich men.
He snapped his mind away, Arielle was not of that sisterhood and to even think of it was to insult her. The likes of Natalie expected the men in their lives to lavish their money on them.
That was not how it was for Arielle and himself. She expected nothing, asked for nothing, but he gave it to her anyway.
I buy beautiful clothes for her because I want to show off her beauty. To herself as well as to me, and to the world. I am showing her Paris to please her. So she can enjoy herself. Just as I took her to that concert that so thrilled her!
And now he wanted her to enjoy today, as well.
He’d asked her if she cared for horse racing, but all she’d said was that she’d never been.
So hopefully the novelty of it would engage her.
He broadened his introduction of her to the others in Paul’s party, some of whom were already known to him.
They all came with expensively dressed, highly ornamental female companions, of Natalie’s ilk.
The kind he himself used to be involved with.
Arielle was nothing like them.
Nor were his feelings about her.
He touched her wrist lightly, but reassuringly. She had a reserved air about her and he wanted her to relax, to enjoy this afternoon at the races. She gave a faint smile as he introduced her, but did not join in the general conversation much. Lycos hoped she was not feeling shy.
But she wasn’t shy with the Derenzes. She was quite at ease with them.
Perhaps that had been because Tara Derenz was English or because there’d only been one other couple, rather than a whole group of people in the party.
Whatever the reason, her quietness now was noticeable.
But then very few remarks, if any, were addressed to her directly.
He noticed, with a flicker of realisation, that the women present were not often directly addressed either.
Their contributions to the conversation were usually giving compliments to the men, or giving them smiles of approval and little laughs of appreciation, or asking wide-eyed questions for them to explain or confirm something they’d remarked on.
He found himself wondering why he was noticing it.
Then he shook the idea from him. Drinks were being served. Lycos took one for Arielle and himself. Food would be served later, though he and Arielle had had a late brunch earlier on before setting off for the racecourse.
He hadn’t driven himself. He kept his car valet-parked whenever he was in Paris and stuck to taxis for ease and convenience, and to avoid limitations on alcohol.
He took a sip now from his martini, enjoying its kick.
Arielle had requested a soft drink and was stirring the ice with a cocktail stick, as though giving herself something to do.
The racing had started, but no one in their party was paying any attention.
Initial conversation focussed on racing in general, but then veered off to focus instead on the exchange of updates with each other about recent social events in a variety of geographical locations.
Since he and Arielle had not been to any of the events, Lycos did not contribute.
Then one member of the party addressed him, changing the subject.
‘So, when do we get to see you back in action, Lycos? Can we get something going while you’re in Paris? It would need to be a private party, now that gaming clubs are coming under fire.’
‘If you like,’ Lycos said. He wasn’t particularly keen, but then nor did he object. He might not need to play cards any longer, but he liked to keep his hand in. Keep his skill honed.
‘Good, I’ll get something set up,’ came the reply.
‘It will be good to see the Wolf back on the prowl! The on dit from the Riviera where you last went hunting was that you badly mauled a bulldog Englishman who baited you but was not a gracious loser. You took a villa off him, so I heard, after you’d cleaned him out! ’
At his side, Lycos felt Arielle freeze.
‘Did I?’ He shrugged one indifferent shoulder. ‘No doubt he deserved it.’
‘In your book they all deserve it! Hubris for taking you on.’
‘They know what they’re doing,’ Lycos replied shortly. He glanced briefly at Arielle, wanting to move her away. Her fingers were gripped tightly around her glass. ‘Would you like to see something of the racing?’ he asked her. ‘There’s another race about to start.’
She nodded and he guided her away towards the rails at the edge of the course. The horses lined up as the Tannoy announced the runners and riders. Lycos procured a race card from a steward and held it so they could both read it.
‘I’m sorry you heard that remark about your stepbrother,’ he said.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said quickly. ‘It wasn’t news to me after all.’ She looked at him. ‘Thank you for not telling them about Mas Delfine.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Lycos assured her.
She was still looking at him. ‘Did that man say he was inviting you to some kind of gambling session?’
‘A private party, yes. Unless he can find a gaming club that is still operating.’
Arielle frowned. Lycos explained.
‘Paris banned casinos in the nineteenth century,’ he said. ‘The authorities were concerned that workers would waste their wages. There are no casinos within a hundred kilometres of the city. A few gaming clubs were permitted, but even those are being banned. It’s a controversial issue.’
‘You’re on the side of the casinos and clubs, I take it?’ Arielle’s voice was expressionless. It made Lycos frown.