Chapter Five #2
“If you’ll excuse me.” Miss Bembridge was already turning away. “I’d better make sure everything is all right.”
“Of course.” Clemmi inclined her head.
“Forgive me if it’s an impertinent question, but shouldn’t smoothing the ambassador’s feathers fall to Lady Davenport?”
“She already has her hands rather full this evening.” Clemmi swallowed a yawn. “And as they say in the theatre, the show must go on.”
“And Miss Bembridge has worked for Sir Conrad for years.” Maggie lowered her voice. “She’s quite used to his outbursts.”
“Elizabeth.” Clemmi drew a little closer, dropping her voice beneath the orchestra. “Would you think me terribly feeble if I called it a night? Only heaven knows how long the gentlemen will be, and I refuse to be found asleep in a corner when they emerge.”
“Of course not. I’ll come with you.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” Clemmi’s gaze lingered briefly on the line of crystal beading at Elizabeth’s waist. “That gown deserves an audience, and it shan’t get one in your armoire. Maggie will look after you – won’t you, Maggie?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
“I shall expect a full account over breakfast of who was wearing what. And I won’t be fobbed off with everyone looked very nice.”
“I can promise you the designers. The wearers may be another matter; I doubt I could put a name to a single soul in this room other than Lady Davenport and the striking Madame de Massenet.”
“Maggie will see to the names. She knows everyone who’s anyone in Paris.”
“Shall I at least walk you out?”
“There’s no need; they’ll have the car brought round in no time.” Clemmi pressed a kiss to her cheek, and her voice dipped lower still. “And if Oliver asks after me, tell him I was on sparkling form, and left only minutes before he returned.”
“Clemmi–”
“Breakfast. A full account.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand, summoned her brightest smile for Maggie, and set off towards the doors.
She had barely gone a dozen steps before Madame de Massenet detached herself from her circle and took her by both hands, a kiss to each cheek. Whatever she said next made Clemmi laugh.
“Mrs Sterling has been caught by l’irrésistible Madame de Massenet.“ Maggie followed Elizabeth’s gaze. “Half the men in Paris are in love with her, and the other half are simply lying to themselves that they aren’t.”
Oriane de Massenet wasn’t beautiful in the conventional sense, but there was just something about her.
“I can see why. She has that certain je ne sais quoi, don’t you think?”
“By the bucketful. And with Monsieur de Massenet’s money and half the couturiers in Paris on retainer, she’s the envy of every wife in the city.”
Madame de Massenet said something that made Clemmi laugh, then sent her off with a kiss to each cheek.
“Well, since Clemmi has set us our lesson for the evening, we’d best begin.” Elizabeth gestured towards the salon. “Lead the way, Miss Howard – you’re the one who knows everyone who’s anyone.”
“Maggie, please. Miss Howard makes me feel like my Great Aunt Marjorie.” She tilted her head towards a stout woman near the orchestra.
“The amethyst Worth is Madame Charpentier. Her husband is Charpentier Steel. He has foundries from Lille to Lyon and makes the steel for everything from battleships to hairpins.”
“That would explain the rings. She’s wearing enough to stock Cartier’s window.”
“Rumour has it there’s one for every mistress she’s caught him with.” Maggie dropped her voice a shade. “At this rate, she’ll be needing a pair of footmen just to carry her hands. Now, the black velvet just to the left of Lady Davenport is– Ah. The gentlemen are out.”
The double doors stood open, the gentlemen filing out in twos and threes, cigars in hand.
The Americans emerged first, thoroughly pleased with themselves.
De Massenet and his entourage came behind them, their sullen faces telling a different story.
And somewhere at the back, a fair head rising above the crowd.
Elizabeth rose up onto her toes, craning for a better view, but she’d lost him.
“Looking for someone?”
“I just thought I’d seen someone I know … but I must have been mistaken.”
“Lady Elizabeth. Maggie.” Miss Bembridge joined them, her wrap over one arm.
“Forgive the interruption, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to return to the chancery …
Sir Conrad needs some papers prepared before the morning session.
Maggie, I’m leaving the evening in your hands.
And do catch Mr Ashby before he leaves; we must have his answer tonight. ”
“I’ll see to it.”
“Has Mrs Sterling left already? I’d hoped to say goodnight.”
“She left just a few minutes ago, but you might still catch her while they bring the car round.”
“Then I shall try. The chancery’s practically on her way, and there’s no sense sending two motorcars along the same road. Good night, Lady Elizabeth. Maggie,” she said before hurrying towards the door.
Maggie turned to Elizabeth. “Would you excuse me while I find Mr Ashby? I spotted him speaking with Mr Sterling a moment ago. Oh.” She turned back to Elizabeth. “And in case we lose each other in the crush, it’s Le Chat Qui Dort. Anyone can point you to it.”
“Thank you, Maggie. I’ll see you later.”
Elizabeth’s gaze drifted across the salon. The man she’d seen couldn’t possibly have been Jonathan; he was thousands of miles away in the Americas.
And yet she’d been so sure it was him, if only for a moment.
Oliver emerged from the press of gentlemen near the far windows, his gaze sweeping the salon until it settled on her. He’d barely taken three steps when Arbuthnot moved into his path.