17. Luc
17
LUC
P ushing open the door to my studio, I took the pencils from my pocket and placed them on an easel. The floorboards creaked under my feet as I walked toward the light hanging over the couch. With a crack, the spine of the old sketchbook split as I opened it, revealing the page with the picture of Iris.
A smile grew on my lips as I ran my fingers along the line of her neck and the tiny uptick of her nose. Her beauty astounded me.
I breathed in the scent of gardenias from the garden, and a loud ringing ripped through the peace of my room. I crossed to my bed, where I’d left my phone. Esmé’s name lit up the screen. I set the sketchbook safely aside and picked up the phone.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
Esmé’s familiar voice washed over me. “Why does something have to be wrong for me to call? I just wanted to check in with you. I hear you’re still at Marsan.”
My stomach fizzed. “I am.”
She whistled low. “That’s unusual. I thought you tried to stay away from the place as much as possible. ”
She knew me well. Apart from seeing her father, visits to Marsan usually dragged me into a funk.
“I had to rely on Papa to tell me. He also mentioned that your grandmother visited. How did that go? Has she married you off yet?”
I tightened my jaw. “Not yet. What else did your father tell you?”
“Not much, which means you haven’t told him about the codicil.”
I closed my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “No. Not yet. I will though, I promise.”
“Good. He did talk a lot about one of the grape pickers who’s helping at the winery, though.”
My ears instantly pricked up. “Iris?”
“The name rings a bell.”
I could hear the smile in Esmé’s voice.
“He called her a breath of fresh air around the place. From the way he spoke, it wouldn’t surprise me if he got down on one knee and proposed.” She chuckled. “Though I’m not sure his kneecaps could take it. He said you’d been spending time with her.”
And there was the reason for Esmé’s call. “She’s nice,” I said. “Iris, I mean.”
“I’m sure she is, but are you fraternising with the staff? I’ve never heard you talk about any of them, apart from Agnes, of course.”
“No. Iris is just… a little different. How can I say… irreverent? She makes me laugh.”
“Irreverent, eh? Different? Why do I feel your interest isn’t purely professional?”
A prickling sensation crawled up my spine. “Why do you say that?”
“Luc, nobody makes you laugh. Not even me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“But accurate. So?”
I pushed the curtain out of the way and gulped in the thick, evening air. Who’d turned up the heat? “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m your oldest friend.”
More like my only real friend these days.
“As such, I think I deserve to know if something is going on with you and this Iris.”
I let out an enormous sigh. It would be good to tell someone. Lighten the burden of guilt that I carried over lying to my grandmother. “Did you receive an invitation to Estelle’s private dinner at the Opera Gala?”
“Of course.”
“And are you coming?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. If only to help you fend her off.”
“Then you’ll find out, eventually.”
“What? What will I find out?”
I took a deep breath. “My grandmother thinks Iris and I are engaged.” Silence greeted me down the line. “Esmé?”
When she spoke, her voice was quiet and measured. “And why would she think that?”
“I may have told her that was the case.”
“O-kaay.” Esmé hung onto her vowel sounds far too long. “And I assume this Iris is aware?”
“Of course.” Something tugged low in my gut. “Though I didn’t give her much choice in the matter.”
“What do you mean, Luc? I hope this isn’t a kidnapping case. Will I have to contact the authorities, or will I wait for Stockholm Syndrome to kick in?”
I scowled, which was something I rarely did with Esmé. “It’s not funny. I didn’t plan this. I put Iris on the spot, and, well, once she got over the shock, she agreed to help me.”
“Help you what?”
“Help me convince my grandmother to leave me alone. To buy me more time. Estelle was pestering me to consider another of her candidates. She talked of bringing her to her gala dinner. I just need space. If she thinks I’m already engaged, it takes the pressure off.”
“Giving you time to actually find someone to marry?”
“Exactly!”
“And have they met? Estelle and your fiancée, I mean.”
“They have. Somehow, we carried off the lie. Hence the dinner.”
“I see. I’ll be honest, Luc. This doesn’t sound like a smart idea. I get you need space, but why would Iris help you? What is she getting in return?”
I didn’t want to tell Esmé, but we rarely kept secrets. “I’m paying her.”
Her intake of breath was the last thing I wanted to hear. “What?”
“Before you say anything, or accuse Iris of anything, she didn’t ask for much—a tiny amount, really. She’s a good person—like your father says, fresh air. She’s smart, funny…”
“And beautiful, by any chance?”
I didn’t answer her question, but my silence gave her the answer she needed.
“I’m sorry, Luc, but I’m getting the distinct feeling that this isn’t just about your grandmother giving you space. I don’t think your sole interest is in Iris’ grape-picking or deception abilities.”
Again, I stayed silent, heat creeping up the back of my neck.
“I take it that’s a yes?”
“It’s irrelevant. I have to marry someone. Someone suitable. And in my grandmother’s eyes, that’s not Iris. I’ll stick to my plan. If I can’t find love before my birthday, I’ll do my best for your father.”
“And marry someone you don’t love? Who you hardly know? ”
I’d barely known Iris for more than a week. “If I must. I’ll do what I have to do.”
I counted six breaths before Esmé spoke.
“So, this Iris will be at the gala dinner, posing as your fiancée?”
“Yes. And I have to ask a favour. Please, can you help me? I need to make this as easy as possible for Iris. My sister will be there, and no doubt she’ll have plenty to say. I’ve asked my grandmother not to tell Delphine yet, and I’m hoping she’s forgotten Iris’ full name.”
“Of course, but if your grandmother wants an heiress or society hostess on your arm, who does she think Iris is?”
“Exactly that.” I cast my mind to all of Iris’ crazy stories. All the reasons our entire plan was madness. But somehow, I still wanted her there with me.
“Luc. I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have an early start. Let me know how I can help at the party. I’m nervous for this poor woman. And for you.”
I swallowed. “Me too. I appreciate your help. Once my sister meets Iris, we’ll need all the friendly faces we can get.”