Time to prove to Fran that what he was offering her was legitimate, was a real and potentially successful business partnership opportunity. Because whichever way he looked at it, Chateau des Rêves didn’t work for him without Fran. And if all Fran was looking for was a business relationship – well, he’d happily grab at it with both hands … and ignore the pain from the splinter wounds, which, just for the record, still hurt.
Johnny almost slipped away to his memories of that afternoon under the canopy of the huge oak with the split trunk, to the intense sensation of being alive and alongside a fantastic woman. With a shake of his head, Johnny brought himself back to the task in hand. Back to proving how serious he was about making Chateau des Rêves work.
Fran wasn’t expecting to see Madame Beaufoy in the dining room, especially not in the middle of a busy dinner service. Evenless was she expecting the manager to gesture for Penny to join them, a gesture Penny didn’t seem at all surprised by.
‘Fran, may I have a word?’
‘Of course, Madame Beaufoy,’ Fran said, allowing herself to be led away from the dining room, wondering why Penny shadowed their progress.
Once they were all ensconced in Madame Beaufoy’s office, the older woman offered them chairs, waiting until Fran slid onto one of the utilitarian wooden seats before she moved behind her desk.
‘I have a question I need to ask you,’ she said, settling herself into her swivel chair.
‘Certainly,’ Fran replied, glancing between Penny and Madame Beaufoy, wondering why Penny didn’t look as confused as she felt.
‘It may seem a strange request, but could you please confirm your name. I understand you to be Francesca Compton.’
‘Yes, that’s right. Francesca Compton, like I told you.’
Fran had a flashback to her arrival, to her grand undercover scheme. To the rational decision to stick to her real name. When Madame Beaufoy frowned, and glanced at Penny, Fran realised there was something more happening here than a name check. Had Chateau les Champs d’Or already received correspondence relating to the report Fran had only sent to Wilding Holdings a short while ago? Maybe she should have waited to send it, until she’d left the hotel for good.
Madame Beaufoy smiled at her, but it was a guarded expression. A professional smile, far removed from the one Fran had seen when she had complimented her on her blend of coffee.
‘I believe there might be a little more to your visit to Chateau les Champs d’Or than you felt at liberty to disclose when you arrived. Is this true?’
Fran pulled in a breath. There didn’t seem to be much to be gained from continuing the deception.
‘I don’t know if Penny has told you, but yes, there is more to my being here than a fortuitous deployment by the recruitment agency.’
As Fran began to explain her role at Wilding Holdings, Madame Beaufoy looked increasingly confused and Penny interjected.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything to Madame Beaufoy, but I heard you, Fran. Talking to that cat. I was trying to find you, I wanted to talk about … Well, that doesn’t matter now. But what I’d overheard was something I couldn’t keep a secret from Madame Beaufoy any longer. You’ve been lying to us this whole time.’ Emotion was thick in Penny’s voice. ‘Why didn’t you tell me everything?’
Madame Beaufoy tutted, waving a hand to quiet Penny as a memory of Red stiffening and fixing his attention towards the chateau floated into Fran’s mind. She’d paid no attention at the time, but Red must have been aware someone was there. It was most likely Penny.
Before she had a chance to respond to Penny, Madame Beaufoy said, ‘I deeply apologise for the misunderstanding on your arrival, Miss Wilding. I can only guess at your desire to want to work at our hotel, for which I am hugely grateful, but we must act accordingly and I will have your belongings moved to a superior suiteimmédiatement.’
Miss Wilding?Fran stared at Penny who dipped her gaze, colour edging onto the alabaster of her cheeks.
‘I’m not … I’m Fran Compton,’ Fran said, her tone edged with disbelief.
‘I’m sorry,’ Penny said, ‘I thought Madame Beaufoy should know. I don’t understand why you pretended to be Fran Compton. Why you lied to me.’ She folded her arms, looking increasingly miserable.
‘No, Penny, really. Thatismy name.’ Fran was on the back foot, fighting to catch up with what had happened. Fighting to grasp what these women were assuming, that their understanding of who Fran was had utterly altered.
‘And there will be a bottle of one of our finest champagnes chilled and waiting for you, at my personal request and with my deepest apologies,’ Madame Beaufoy said, lifting her phone to set the changes into motion.
‘Madame Beaufoy, please stop. You don’t understand …’
Fran’s words were ignored, the woman already deep in a conversation with someone on the telephone. Instead, Fran turned to Penny.
‘This is exactly what Ididn’twant,’ Fran said.
‘Not denying it, then?’ Penny said, her voice hitching. ‘I thought you were my friend, but now I feel so stupid.’
‘I didn’t mean to mislead you,’ Fran said. ‘Penny, you have to believe me.’ Her words sounded weak, because although she hadn’t intended to upset anyone, she had done exactly that. She’d misled them – all of them – and there was no escaping the fact she had done so on purpose.
‘God only knows the point of it all. Was it so you could have some “fun” stories to tell your rich friends?’ Penny mimed inverted commas, then shook her head. ‘If it gets me fired, I don’t much care. There’s nothing keeping me here now, anyway.’
