Jean-Paul’s sherry-colored eyes lingered on her for a long moment, and she thought she saw sadness in them. He had a quick wit and an easy smile, but she wondered: Had his fiancée really run off with his business partner?
“How long are you planning to stay?” Jean-Paul asked.
“I don’t have a plan, exactly,” Cady said, her stomach fluttering as the words came out. “I’m sort of playing it by ear.”
“No one’s waiting for you back in the States?”
“No,” she replied. “How about you? You don’t need to get back to Paris?”
He gave a ghost of a smile, and a barely-there shake of his head. “You heard what Fabrice said. My wedding was canceled at the last minute.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. But it was for the best. And Fabrice got one thing wrong: I left her, not the other way around.”
“Why?”
He gazed into his glass. “She deserves someone better.”
“Someone like your business partner?”
He gave a humorless chuckle. “Ex-business partner. But yes. He is probably a better man than I.”
Cady had no idea how to respond. Their gazes met again, and held.
“So, Cady, what I still can’t figure out is what you’re doing here.”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps. But Saint-Véran is my native village, and I am spending time with relatives, trying to look after my cousin and the château I will one day inherit. Whereas you...”
“I’m butting in? Are you telling me to leave?”
“Not at all. I’m just trying to... what is the phrase? ‘Figure you out.’”
She let out a quick laugh. “Well, let me know what you come up with. I could use a clue myself. As you know, I was trying to track down the provenance of my carousel figure, which led me here. But now that I’m at the château, I have come to realize that at this point...” She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “The idea of spending a few nights at a mysterious château—one featured in a novel, no less—is pretty exciting. I guess I’m just... playing it by ear.”
“As you said. So... no plans.”
“No plans. And you? What do you intend to do with the château once you inherit it? Move in, have those kids you were talking about, become a country gentleman?”
“Not exactly, no. I would like to bring in a structural engineer to assess how much work—and money—it will take to renovate the château, bring it up to modern standards. And then”—he shrugged—“there are a couple of chains that run châteaux as small hotels, wedding venues, that sort of thing.”
“It seems a shame to let the château leave the family.”
“You Americans are very romantic about history, are you not? Perhaps that is the result of having less of it than we. Remember, I did not grow up at the château, and have no sentimental attachment to it. When Fabrice’s father, Marc-Antoine, didn’t return after the First World War, it was not properly maintained and became a ruin, really.”
“Why didn’t Fabrice’s father return?”
“He married a Parisian, and you know how they are.”
“I don’t, actually, but I know what Fabrice would say about that.”
“Ironically, of all the extended Clement family, Fabrice is by far the most Parisian. He was born and raised there, after all.”
Again Jean-Paul held her gaze. His manner wasn’t flirtatious—at least she didn’t think it was. But there was something...
She cleared her throat. “About those plans... Is there sufficient demand for a hotel in this small village?”
