Henri stood in front of her, and she wondered if his hesitation would turn into an apology, but it didn’t.
‘I had a wonderful time with you in here and in Provins, Henri,’ she said, ready to pour her heart out to make sure he knew that she most definitely hadn’t been using him. ‘I’ll never forget the time we’ve spent together, and I’m sorry if you think I was with you for any reason other than the fact that I genuinely fell for you. Because whatever you’re thinking, it couldn’t be further from the truth.’
Henri didn’t move, but he didn’t turn away either, so she stepped towards him, hoping that his body would soften, that he’d realise immediately what a fool he’d been. If he’d been hot-tempered and quickly apologised, she could forgive him for the way he’d acted. Blake pressed a warm kiss to his lips, hoping he’d return it; but although Henri’s lips moved against hers, as soon as it was over he turned and left the room, leaving her standing there.
Alone.
Blake didn’t know what to do. Thirty minutes later she was still standing in her room, looking at all her things and wondering if she should just start packing, or go after Henri and demand that he listen to her. What he’d suggested was ridiculous at best, and despite their summer fling coming to a natural close with her leaving France, she didn’t want it to end like this.
She also couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Céline’s job would have meant she didn’t have to leave France at all, although she knew it was a pipe dream at best to even think she could stay there. She had a life in London, and as wonderful as the trip had been, France wasn’t home—London was.
But when she walked out to find Henri, stepping out onto the patio to look for him, she heard the crunch of tyres over gravel. By the time she glanced out over the long driveway leading away from the chateau, all she could see were the tail-lights of Henri’s car.
‘You look like a girl in need of a drink.’
Blake turned and found Henri’s stepfather standing there. She’d liked Benoit from the moment she’d met him—he was incredibly warm and relaxed. From what she could understand, he’d retired from his career some years earlier to help Céline grow her business, and was his wife’s greatest cheerleader. She liked that about him, that he was prepared to exist behind the scenes without taking any credit for how successful Céline was.
‘You read my mind,’ she said, happily taking the glass of chilled white wine he offered. She wondered why he’d come with two drinks, but guessed that his stepson driving away at high speed was an indicator that she had been left adrift.
‘Henri has always been quick to temper,’ Benoit said, gesturing for her to sit with him. ‘And it’s always been very hard to gain his trust.’
She did so gratefully, sinking into the large outdoor chair across from him and tucking her legs beneath herself for comfort.
‘When I first met him as a young teenager, it’s fair to say that he wasn’t impressed by me. I had to work very hard to get him to trust me, but once he did, we became as close as a father and son could be,’ Benoit said. ‘He is very protective of his mother, and what she’s created, which is why it was so hard for him to let me close. But I found that letting him go when he was angry, and then always being there when he returned, showed him that I was prepared to stay, no matter what. That I was as loyal to his mother as he was himself.’
‘So, you suggest I leave him be?’ she asked. ‘And wait for his return?’
‘Well, it depends what angered him in the first place. Although I don’t expect you to share.’
Blake took a sip of the wine. ‘Your wife offered me a job, which came as a complete surprise to me, but he seemed to think I’d come here with some kind of motive.’
‘Ah, well, now it all makes sense.’
Her eyebrows rose. ‘It does?’
Benoit took another sip of his wine before setting it down and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. ‘Three years ago, Henri was engaged to a beautiful young woman. He’d met her by chance at a restaurant,’ he said. ‘And he fell in love with her very quickly—they were engaged within six months. For a boy who’d dated many women but fallen for none, this came as a surprise to us all, but he wouldn’t listen to anyone who told him he was moving a bit too fast.’
Blake nodded, imagining what Henri must have been like then, so head over heels in love, so trusting.
‘But soon after, the engagement ended. Henri realised that she had organised their entire relationship to meet Céline and become part of her world. At the time, you see, Céline was still editor atVogue, and Henri’s fiancée wanted an opening into the industry. I think she saw herself as becoming indispensable to my wife, rather than to my son.’
‘So, she was seeing him simply to get to Céline? The entire thing was a charade?’
‘It was hard for him having such an influential mother in his younger years, and sometimes it still is,’ Benoit said, nodding. ‘Henri is fiercely protective of her, of our whole family, really, so I would say that when Céline offered you the job, he simply saw history repeating itself. He would have questioned how he’d metyou, whether this was your plan all along, whether you ever even had feelings for him.’
‘I can’t believe he’d think that of me. I mean, I understand what you’re telling me, but still, it’s awful to think that he’d consider me capable of that, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.’
Benoit sighed. ‘Neither can I, but then I trust much more easily than Henri does. I have never been intimidated by who Céline is, and I came into this relationship with my own financial means, which alleviated some of the initial concerns Henri may have had. He’s grown up seeing how hard his mother worked to achieve everything she’s accomplished, so when you think of it that way, it’s easier to understand his reaction.’
Blake sipped her drink and looked out at the magnificent French countryside. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before, and in some ways, she found it even more intoxicating than being in the city. It broke her heart to think that she would be leaving so soon; that this might be the last time she sat, as the sun lowered in the sky, and looked out at this view.
‘I knew who Céline was before I came to France—I work in journalism, after all. Everyone in my industry knows of the infamous Céline Toussaint, editor ofVogueParis. She changed an iconic magazine in ways that no one else would have been brave enough to do, so he’s right in thinking that I’m in awe of what she did, and continues to do.’ Her eyes met Benoit’s. ‘But I can tell you in all honesty that I didn’t know the connection when I met Henri. It wasn’t until I arrived here, at your chateau, that I realised who he was, or who his mother was, I should say.’
‘Some of the boldest decisions Céline made when she was at the helm, especially in her last years atVogue, were thanks to Henri,’ Benoit said. ‘He was also the one who encouraged her to build her own brand, who convinced Céline that shewasthe brand and that she had something worthy of turning into a company.’
‘Which is why he is CEO of the company?’ Blake asked.
‘Precisely. My stepson is CEO, my wife is creative director. Usually that works, but sometimes it doesn’t.’
