***
“ACHAPERONE? BUT MÉMÈRE—”
“Don’tbutme, Serena. I know my duty to my only granddaughter.”
Serena didn’t like to point out the obvious in case she lost any of her precious freedoms, but she couldn’t help reminding her beloved grandparent, “You allow me to go out alone every day.”
The older lady shook her head. “When you are at the Halle aux Vins, Jacques and Michel look out for you, as do all the other vintners whom your grand-père has known for years. Some are old enough to have watched over your mother, too.”
“You also let me go to cafés with my friends, and they are not all female,” Serena said stubbornly.
“You’ve been honest with me, yes?” her grand-mère asked. “Always at least one girl sits with you if you are in the company of a young man. Tonight is different. Your mother met an Englishman and had you nine months later.”
Serena snapped her mouth closed. Her grand-mère had never put it like that before. She knew her grandparents would have wished for their daughter to marry a Frenchman and stay closer to home, especially with the years of war making it difficult to travel between the two countries. But there had never been a hint of scandal regarding her mother and her father, Baron Elmstead.
“My parents married,” Serena said quietly.
“In the nick of time,” her green-eyed grand-mère shot back. “There is a reason they married here in Paris and not in a grand ceremony back in England, but your grand-père wishes you were going out tonight with a nice Parisian boy.”
“Why did you never speak of this before?” Serena asked.
Her grand-mère shrugged. “This is the first time I’ve seen a sparkle in your eyes. I’m glad for you, but possibly it indicates trouble. While I know you are safe in the wine market and in a café with your friends, going to a party with a man unknown to our family — why, he may beun homme libertin, yes?”
“A libertine!” Serena considered Malcolm Branley’s behavior. He certainly had dash-fire.
“Besides,” her grand-mère continued, “you are a baron’s daughter, and you must behave like a lady. Those officers and government workers and all thehaute bourgeoisiewill be in high excitement tonight, some perhaps agitated, some may drink too much.”
“I will take my pistol.”
“No,” the older lady said. “Not in your fine gown and not to a party at which the emperor may attend. You must be protected by a chaperone.” Her grand-mère gave her a stern look. “Not everything works out as well as it did for your mother.”
And her parents had undoubtedly given her grandparents an indication of Serena’s somewhat puerile behavior during the London Season, but she liked to believe she’d matured in many ways since Vauxhall. While life was to be lived as fully as possible, it wasn’t to be squandered or wasted, at least not on unworthy rakes.
Then her grand-mère gently caressed the back of Serena’s hand in a way she’d always found loving and comforting.
“Maybe now, dear one, you will understand a little why your father was so angry with you for the risk you took in London. Not all men take responsibility for their actions, and some will say anything to tempt a woman’s heart.”
“I understand,” Serena said, feeling grateful her grandparents were looking out for her. Knowing some of Mémère’s friends, she considered who might have been chosen to attend a party with her and Monsieur Branley.
“Very well, but please not—”
“Madame Fournier,bien sûr!”
“Of course,” Serena echoed.Bien sûr.Her grand-mère had chosen the most prying, hawk-eyed woman she knew. Also, in Serena’s experience, a woman with tongue enough for two sets of teeth, constantly jabbering away and prone to bouts of indigestion.
“She will be here before you make it downstairs.” The older woman kissed Serena’s cheek. “You look lovely, just like your mother. I’ll go pour the wine and make sure your grand-père isn’t going to say anything insulting to your Englishman.”
When her grandparents had learned Malcolm Branley’s nationality, they’d agreed it was for the best if her escort remained in the dark about her own.
Her Englishman!
Serena shivered. Excited anticipation had been her companion all day long, and now, as she put the finishing touches to her hair, she could hardly contain herself. She hadn’t dressed up and gone out for over a year. Moreover, she hadn’t wanted to keep company with the opposite sex, mostly because none of the young men in Paris had sparked her interest. While a few had caught her eye, their attitude had been unappealing. Some behaved too familiarly with her. Some seemed like brothers. Some, like Guillaume, were angry all the time and far too bossy with all the females.
Monsieur Branley made her insides feel warm and tingly, and that had never happened before.
“Serena, your guest is here,” came her grand-père’s deep voice from the bottom of the stairs.
She startled despite having been watching the clock on the mantle over her hearth. It wouldn’t do to go charging down the stairs like an eager colt.
