He laughed. ‘I have done little other than work for the past few months. The exhibition has consumed me.’ Henri’s voice dropped an octave as he stopped walking and stepped in front of her, touching his hand to her waist. ‘You are the only beautiful woman I’ve been out with in a very long time.’
Her stomach leaped, waiting for him to kiss her, expecting him to close the distance between them and press his lips to hers. But instead, he smiled and took a step back, pointing to a little shop with a striped awning ahead as he cleared his throat.
‘It’s time for eclairs,’ he said.
And as happy as Blake was at the prospect of eclairs, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to be kissed by Henri, standing on a street corner in Paris.
13
RUE CAMBON, PARIS, AUGUST 1937
Evelina tucked the champagne glass close to her body as she admired the bold design,her bold design, on the mannequin wearing her dress. It was the very first time she’d shown a collection, the doors to the apartment firmly shut to ensure that only invited guests could see what was on display. The shimmering silk and intricate buttons of each dress were being studied and admired by those gathered, and she couldn’t help but smile when she overheard one of the men describe her dresses as breathtaking. She’d wondered if she’d ever be able to step out from the shadow of her husband, but if tonight was an indication of her future success…she breathed deeply, a smile touching her lips again as she sipped her champagne.Ex-husband. Sometimes she couldn’t help but think of him, but Théo was firmly in her past now. She’d received their divorce papers almost one year ago, and even though he’d screamed at her that she’d never succeed without him, now it was he who was struggling to keep the doors to his fashion empire open. She hadn’t wanted him not to succeed, but if it had to be a competition between the two of them, then so be it.
She looked around, reminding herself of just how far she’d come, of the odds she’d overcome to succeed on her own. Theentire evening was almost impossible to believe: the culmination of months of work and a little luck, but it had been worthy of every sacrifice. There had been times she’d wondered if she could truly make a name for herself—whether someone like her would ever be accepted, especially with Théo’s words echoing in her mind, haunting her—but tonight, she wholeheartedly,finally, felt as if she belonged.
Evelina slipped from the room and disappeared onto the narrow balcony, lighting a cigarette and taking a moment to stare out at the skyline. She never took the beauty of Paris for granted, and on a night such as this, she wanted to reflect on the years it had taken to get to this moment.
As Evelina lifted her cigarette and placed it between her lips, she felt a gentle pressure at the small of her back. She turned, surprised that anyone present would touch her so intimately, and through a haze of smoke she met the eyes of a man she’d noticed inside earlier, his dark blond hair neatly combed, and his eyes a vivid blue. When he smiled, she found she couldn’t look away.
‘Evelina Lavigne,’ he said, ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you at last.’
She smiled and lowered her cigarette, immediately interested in the handsome man commanding her attention. She’d politely ignored the advances of any man since leaving Théo, but something about this particular gentleman made her stand a little straighter. ‘Thank you for coming tonight. You are?—’
‘Antoine Renaud,’ he said, as Evelina transferred her cigarette into the same hand holding her glass so she could extend her gloved fingers to him, watching as his lips brushed gently over the velvet. ‘I manage my family’s department store on the Boulevard Haussmann.’
Evelina’s eyes widened, her curiosity well and truly piqued. She knew precisely which store he was talking about, for whowould not? Les Galeries Renaud was one of the oldest and most prestigious department stores in all of France, not to mention the only proper department store in Paris. An order from a company like Antoine’s would mean that women everywhere would know her name and wear her clothes; and if she wasn’t mistaken, his family was one of the wealthiest in the city, too.
‘Well, thank you for taking the time to come tonight and view my designs,’ she said, hoping her smile was as coquettish as she intended it to be. She wished they were inside so that everyone in the room could see whom she was talking to—if Antoine was interested in stocking her designs in his store, then it would surely make them covet her collection all the more. ‘I hope you like what you see on display?’
‘Your designs are unusually bold, and I think women will love how playful and feminine your dresses are,’ Antoine said, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘I’d very much like to hear more about your inspiration though, before we discuss which designs I might be interested in.’
He held her gaze, waiting for her to answer, and she took a small step back and raised her eyebrows, a smile creasing her lips. She found that she very much liked basking in the attention of a man like Antoine, even if she did feel as if he were playing a game with her, as if he were teasing her for his own pleasure. She kept their eye contact.Two can play at this game.
‘Before you decide which of my pieces tobuy?’ she asked.
‘Perhaps,’ he replied, folding his arms as he appeared to consider her. She had the distinct feeling that he liked the way she stood her ground, if his smile was anything to go by. ‘Shall we discuss it over a drink? Or two? I think I’d very much like to know more about the designer who has appeared from nowhere in Paris, and has somehow commanded the attention of the fashion world so thoroughly.’
‘You exaggerate,’ Evelina said, laughing and shaking her head as she stepped past him to go back inside.Of coursehe wanted to have a drink. His flattery didn’t surprise her—he was no different to any of the other men she’d met since arriving in Paris who flirted with her so shamelessly—only he had no idea that she was unlike any woman he’d met before. Or perhaps he did. But just as she was about to step through the door, eager for him to glimpse the low back of her evening dress and the way it skimmed her curves, Antoine caught her hand, moving closer as he whispered into her ear. He was so close she imagined he would be able to smell the vanilla-scented perfume she’d dabbed to the base of her collarbone, his fingers intimately catching hers.
‘Evelina, you could become one of the most famous designers France has ever seen,’ he murmured. ‘Let me be the one to help you realise your potential.’
Her breath caught in her throat as his thumb brushed her wrist, as he lowered his eyes ever so slightly before lifting them and catching hers again. He was incredibly magnetic, the type of man she’d always imagined at her side, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to have someone with his influence championing her designs in the city she’d fallen in love with. Perhaps he wasn’t like the other men she’d met before, after all. She’d fallen for the wrong man once, one who’d whispered promises in her ear until she’d finally agreed to marry him, but she wasn’t so bitter that she believed all men made promises they had no intention of fulfilling.
‘A drink?’ he asked again, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Once everyone has gone?’ She hesitated.
‘I have a feeling that no one has seen the depth of your potential before, Evelina, and I want to know everything there is to know about you.’ He smiled, and she loved the way he stared into her eyes instead of dropping his gaze to her body as mostmen would. ‘I promise that if after one drink you want me to leave, I will.’
Evelina pressed her lips together as he slowly let go of her, nodding before turning on her heel. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and when she glanced back over her shoulder and saw that he was still watching her, she flashed him one last smile.
She only wished she hadn’t seen the unmistakable glint of a wedding ring on his finger as she did so.
Perhaps all men are the same, after all.
She left Antoine, refusing to look back, and instead making her way around the room to greet everyone and press kisses to cheeks. She greeted each person with a warmth that had them feeling as if they were old friends, determined to make an impression on them. As with all the showings in Paris, the doors were firmly closed to ensure only those invited would be able to see her designs. She probably wasn’t well-known enough for anyone to copy her samples, but other fashion houses had had their designs stolen and then replicated in America and London, with cheaper versions being made almost immediately, before the couture versions were even available. She’d tried to create the illusion of exclusivity, and if she was honest, it had taken almost every franc she had left to put the evening on.
Evelina had enough money left to pay her rent for a few more months, but after that, if she didn’t sell what she had on display tonight and receive orders for the coming season…She swallowed away her discomfort, not wanting to think about what could happen, about where she could end up. She certainly wasn’t going home with her tail between her legs after all these years. She’d written to tell her parents of her wedding to Théo, to remind her sisters that should they ever want to see her in Paris, she would very much welcome them with open arms. As far as they knew, she was still married and living in a gorgeous apartment overlooking the Place Dauphine, although she knewthat if they were going to come, either to visit or to escape home, as she had, they would have already written to her by now.
But as she looked around the room, at the men speaking in hushed tones, smiling and nodding in her direction, sipping champagne as they touched fabric and skimmed hands down sleeves and across zips to inspect her work, she refused to believe that the night could be anything other than a success. If not, they were all doing a fine job of pretending to be impressed.
