Chapter 5
BoulevardHaussmann
Paris
Julian walkedinto the breakfast room the next morning just as Killian was finishing hiscoffee.
"You seem chipper," Julian said, smiling at Killian as he strolled to the sideboard and picked up a plate. "Enjoyed yourself last night with Lady Savage, Igather."
An understatement.Her wild kisses. Her surrender. Her laugh. Her humor. Her eloquence at the piano to render the compositions of Chopin. Killian liked nearly everything about her. Except the puzzling reason why she initially evaded him and with such antipathy, too. "I did. She'sintriguing."
Julian surveyed the dishes, uncovering one tureen and then another. "She's a bit of a mystery to us all. Seems a goodsort."
"Fine company." Killian didn't intend to break his vow that his relationship with her be unremarkable in the eyes of society. His family aswell.
"I liked her too. Last night was the most time I've ever spent in her company, even though she's a distant relative of my mother's. And of Remy's family,too."
"I don't recall her attending yours and Lily'swedding."
"I believe an engagement of some urgency prevented her." Julian closed the domed lid on a tureen and strolled to the table to sit next to him. "She works, Ithink."
Killian wondered what Julian might share about Liv. "She told me she consults on housedecoration."
"Is that so? Well, good for her. My cousin, Lord Burnett, knows her much better thanI."
"Burnett?" The name wasfamiliar.
"Mmm. John? John Arden? Tall, jovial chap. You met him last month at our house in London. Perhaps at my father’s funeraltoo.”
Killian eyed the black band on Julian’s sleeve, the one indication of his mourning period for his deceasedfather.
"Yes. The one who wanted the Winterhalter portrait of his mother?" The man had desired only one item from the estate of Julian's father, the previous duke of Seton. When that man died in June, his will granted the valuable painting to his nephew, thebaron.
"Yes. To hang in his well-appointed twelfth centurycastle."
"I vaguely recall him." He tucked away the information for futurereference.
"His mother was friends with Liv's mother, I do believe." Julian took a bite of his poached egg. "I did understand she got a very small widow's portion when her husband died. His house, land, goods were all entailed. Went to his relative, next in line. You know how thatgoes."
"I do." Killian had concluded she lived modestly. She had told him her husband had passed away six years ago. When he'd accompanied her home last night, he'd assessed the Parisian hotel she stayed in while here. The Hotel Saint-Germaine was respectable, clean, quiet, middle class. What she could afford, then. Whether business called or not, she'd told him as they parted last night that she planned to return to London today after she finished her appointment on the outskirts of Paris at theSèvresfactory.
Killian had tried to persuade her to remain in Paris, but she refused. Then he'd pressed her to promise to allow him to call on her inLondon.
"I must think it over," she'd said and he couldn't get her torelent.
He'd circled his arms around her in his carriage. Tipping up her chin, he'd said, "You might need morekisses."
The pained expression on her face had been one of pure torture. But she'd said, "Good night,Killian."
And what he heard was,Goodbye.
Panic raced through him. He wanted to argue, negotiate. But hedidn’t.
Delicacy was the better approach. He'd ask about. Find her home. Her business. Attraction such as they shared was no passing fancy. Noinfatuation.
He lifted his coffee cup and drank, eager to change the subject to a more positive one. He wanted more information about his daughter's health and her new revelations. "You seem well rested. Sleep well? Both ofyou?"
"That we did. Rather, Lily did." The grin on Julian's face could not have been more jolly as he paused to reflect on his pending parenthood. "Thank god. As for me, I sat watching her most of the night. Thinking. Money. Estate. Thefuture."
