In his gut, Malcolm knew Randall was correct. Yet he had never shirked his responsibilities with a female before.
“My duty—” he began.
“Is to king and country, above all.” Randall reminded him.
Gritting his teeth, Malcolm looked outside again through the glass panes. He couldn’t even see Mademoiselle Renault amidst the revelers.
“It doesn’t sit well with me,” he muttered.
“Nevertheless, you have a job to do,” Randall used his stern tone again.
Swearing under his breath, Malcolm gave in. “Fine. But would you have me simply abandon her? The mademoiselle will understand, but her chaperone and her grandparents will think me mad.”
Randall stared at him, then he grinned. “If you care what her grandparents think, my friend, then I guess you care for her. Are you planning on plucking this French flower and installing her in your English garden?”
Poetic bastard!He’d only managed to kiss her. He was hardly ready to get down on bended knee over the chit, just because he found her attractive, intriguing, exciting, amusing and positively gorgeous.
“You look addled,” Randall said.
“Shut up,” Malcolm told him. “Are you suggesting I leave her here? That’s the action of a scoundrel.”
“Hm. I see what you mean.” Randall considered. “I shall go instead and fetch her away from her admirer.”
“You?”
Randall drew himself up taller. “Yes, me! Why not me? I have never been near the palace or the emperor, at least, not so he would recall.” He winked. “He’ll have no reason to suspect me.”
“But your accent is hardly better than mine. I doubt he’ll look kindly on a crusty Brit stealing away a pretty Parisian mademoiselle.”
“I won’t speak aloud if I can’t get her away from him.” Without further words, Randall slipped outside.
Probably the only thing worse than waiting behind a vase of flowers was waiting by a garden door. It seemed interminable, but was probably a mere five minutes before one of the doors opened and Mademoiselle Renault entered, followed by her chaperone and then Randall.
“Monsieur Branley!” Madame Fournier spoke first. “Where on earth did you get to? You missed the most delightful conversation with His Imperial Majesty. Not to mentionbiscuits de Reimsand delicious champagne in which to dip them!”
“And stickymoelleux aux abricots,”Serena said, licking her upper lip, looking satisfied — and utterly desirable.
His attention remained on the woman he’d kissed, realizing how much he’d detested not being able to protect her.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asked.
The mademoiselle nodded. “Absolutely. And your friend ...,” she turned to include Randall, but he’d already vanished.
***
LATER IN THE WEEK,Serena prepared to return to the Palais des Tuileries, adjusting her bonnet. So much had happened. Having been kissed topped her list. Thoroughly kissed. Thrillingly kissed.A heart-stopping, breath-stealing, and making-her-want-more kiss!
And she’d been to her first ball in over a year. While the entire evening had been entertaining, only the minutes spent with Monsieur Branley had been truly satisfactory. Dancing with others had felt like time wasted, and even chatting with the emperor in the garden after her escort so abruptly disappeared had been merely distracting.
Malcolm, as she thought of him, was quick at disappearing — she would give him that, especially considering his height. It was as if he had vanished in the blink of an eye.
Strangely, Bonaparte hadn’t been nearly as exciting as her Englishman.
When a stranger had touched her elbow, managing to move her out of the emperor’s circle, she’d been intrigued and then grateful.
Malcolm had signaled afiacreand taken them home. Madame Fournier did all the talking on the quick journey, and they hadn’t had another moment alone.
Nor had he made an arrangement to see her again, much to her disappointment. She hoped he’d enjoyed the kisses as much as she had and might want to partake of another one or two.
