Goodness. That was equally blunt.
“When it is that obvious that a man and woman desire each other, they normally do something about it. Hence my question,” he said.
He was better at talking about this than she was. Undoubtedly he had experience with such conversations. She had none at all.
She considered telling him about Charles, although that would not explain her behavior on the bridge. Even she could not make sense of it under the circumstances.
“But you did not come to my door, did you? Perhaps you did not for the same reason I would not have invited you in.”
“What reason is that?”
“If I was not willing to be your wife, I probably was not willing to be your mistress.”
“If only it were that simple.”
The carriage began slowing. The setting sun streaked in the window. Kevin leaned forward, out of that harsh beam of light and into the shadow where she sat. “Should you ever come to my door, I promise that I would definitely allow you to enter, and it need not imply any formal agreement.”
The door opened. The steps went down. She rearranged her shawl and, side by side, she and Kevin entered the restaurant.
* * *
Women ate with men in the good Parisian restaurants. Nevertheless, Monsieur Forestier had taken a private dining room for their meal. It had windows that looked out over the Île de la Cité and the apse end of Notre Dame. Rosamund went to those windows immediately and stood in the golden light heralding the end of the day.
Monsieur Forestier joined her there. He pointed out this building and that. He smiled. He flattered. Kevin watched, deciding whether to mind or not.
He had introduced Rosamund as his partner in the enterprise. Forestier had looked as if lightning had struck him when he saw her. When Forestier gave him a sly, quizzical look, the meaning of which any man would know, he had given one back that was equally eloquent.No, she is not my lover. Damn, but he was more than decent, being honest like that. He had really wanted to send a dangerous glare that saidTouch her and we will duel at dawn.
Now Forestier appeared to be cultivating the garden beyond the gate that had been left open. It didn’t help that women probably found Forestier handsome. He was in his thirties, dark of hair and eye, and very Gallic.
Rosamund, to her credit, did not encourage it. Kevin wasn’t convinced she even realized their host was flirting. Forestier spoke English, but haltingly, so his intentions might have been interpreted as nothing more than graciousness.
The restaurant owner arrived at the door. Their host went to speak with him. Rosamund sidled close to Kevin.
“I’m not sure what I expected, but not such a young man. He can’t be more than thirty-five.” Her gaze assessed Forestier from the distance. “I suppose he is handsome in a French sort of way. I wonder why he did not bring his wife this evening.”
“I didn’t realize he was married.”
She nodded. “I asked him, indirectly. He pointed out a school, and I asked if his children attend it. He was obligated to say they attend one near the university.”
“He teaches there.” Not sure that she comprehended how things worked in France, he added, “Wives do not stop French men from pursuing women. It is commonplace to have a mistress here.”
“As it is at home.”
“Less discreet here.”
“The discretion at home is recent, I’ve been told. Ah, here he comes. When will we talk about his enhancement?”
“When he chooses. After dinner, I expect.”
The dinner was delicious. Rosamund tried everything without even asking what she ate. She gave Monsieur
Forestier all her attention. It wasn’t until the main course that Kevin realized she was plenty aware that Forestier was flirting with her and permitting the man to think she found it flattering.
Perhaps she really did.
Jealousy had simmered all evening, but now it flared into something more. He regretted not responding to that silent male query differently.
When the plates were cleared and cognac was served, Forestier appeared content to drink on with a lovely woman and to hell with business. Kevin could tell that Rosamund grew impatient. Finally, she stood.
