“So how will I see you again, mademoiselle?”
“I don’t know, monsieur. But if you work for the Prince Regent as I suspect, then you will find a way.”
His face broke into a grin, a little lopsided which made her heart flip.
“I said you were a clever woman. I shall find a way.” And his lips met hers once more with a heart-pounding kiss before she turned and ascended the stairs.
If she didn’t receive a severe dressing-down from her grandparents, she would be shocked. But the entire adventure had been worth it.
Chapter Fourteen
True to his word, Serenareceived an invitation from Malcolm. Under her grand-mère’s watchful eye, she opened it. Not exactly abillet-doux, nevertheless, it made her heart race.
“An assembly at the Louvre,” Adèle said, reading over her shoulder. “To celebrate Monsieur David’s painting of the emperor. I suppose that will be acceptable. And it’s a masquerade, too.Très amusant!”
In fact, Malcolm couldn’t have chosen better since her grand-mère loved the museum and thought an artist’s talent was a gift from God. Although it was a day-time reception, showcasing pieces the emperor had obtained from conquered countries and brought to Paris, everyone would be in festive finery.
Malcolm had chosen the masquerade for obvious reasons, and Serena practically laughed out loud at her good fortune — another chance to be with the fascinating Englishman who made her insides quiver. And with Madame Fournier, no doubt.
Her grand-père, however, wasn’t so easily persuaded.
“You are a clever girl, but you take too many chances,” Pépère said, having not stopped scowling since she’d confessed to the events in the catacombs.
“But the Louvre, Henri,” her grand-mère intervened. “It is safe.”
“The masquerades at Carnival weren’t exactly tame,” Pépère said.
Serena had heard stories of how wild Carnival was especially the last of the six “fat” days,les jours gras. She couldn’t imagine her grandparents engaging in the revelry of the night before Ash Wednesday, when the anonymity of masks gave license for all types of wickedness. Banned for a short while after the Revolution, Serena had Bonaparte to thank for allowing masquerades once again at the turn of the century.
“But this isn’t Carnival,” Mémère scoffed. “Just a daytime party with masks. She is young, Henri. Let her have fun before she returns to stuffy Britain.”
“Hm,”he said.
Serena took that as a good sign. Not exactly a blessing, but an indication she would be allowed to go.
Wearing a gown of mostly white silk with little purple flowers around the bodice and at the bottom of the skirt, she draped a lavender-colored, soft Kashmir shawl over her shoulders. Although not as expensive as the imported kind, since it was from French goats rather than Indian goats, still the shawl was one of her favorite pieces.
