Page 65 of Sweet Siren
"Name it," Remysaid.
"When I buy a piece from your friends, you will not tell any of them who I am or encourage them or your agent to sell me anything for apittance."
"All of our friends, Uncle Killian, are very poor. We urge you to pay more than the asking price for whatever youlike."
Liv chuckled. "I've been witness to that. Don't argue with him is mysuggestion."
Killian grinned. "If you do, I'll drive the value of all their workshigher."
Marianne sat back and clapped her hands. "That you will.Instantly."
"Bonjour, Madame la duchesse, et Monsieur leduc."
Standing beside Liv was an older, elegant man of middling height, ample girth, with a substantial winged mustache, pointed goatee and the sharp eyes of a man about town. He bowed over Marianne's hand and kissed it, then allowed Remy to introduce him to her and Killian. But Liv could only nod woodenly. The art agent,MonsieurMontand, had afriend.
And she knew him. Knew himwell.
"Allow me to present a friend of mine," said Montand. "We met here in the square just as I alighted from my cab. He seeks pieces he might take home to Gloucester to decorate his home. I told him I was to meet you,MadameandMonsieur, so of course he insisted on beingintroduced."
"Forgive the intrusion," said Lord Horace Mayhew who had been a close friend of her husband's. They'd gone to Eton as well as done their grand tour together. His large brown eyes rested in hers. "Lady Savage and I are well acquainted. How are you,Olivia?"
"Very well, Horace." She allowed him to take her hand and kiss it. "Delightful to see youagain."
"And you. It's been manyyears."
Since you came to David's funeral."Indeed. You're lookingwell."
"Thank you. As areyou."
He'd been truly happy to see her until the next moment when Remy introduced him toKillian.
"Killian Hanniford. Why, how wonderful to meet you, sir." But his words were stiff and his smilethin.
He recognizes Killian's name and theconnection.
She wished to dissolve in herchair.
He knows I shouldn't be here withhim.
They conversed about the heat, the artists working in the plaza and then Remy invited Mayhew to join them forluncheon.
Liv held herbreath.
"No,merci beaucoup,I must go." He absently fingered his delicate watch fob dangling from his waistcoat pocket, but his eyes flew time and again to Liv's. "My wife is at Worth's and I'm to meet her there in an hour. You know how that is. I must go to pay thebill."
He bid them alladieuin the most pleasant terms. He'd always been a kindman.
But his wife? Oh, Liv knew his wife. That woman was not kind. She was a creature of theton. Addicted to her clothes, her jewels, her houses, even her lovers. Those last—and numerous they'd been, too—made up for the lack in her husband's affections. For Mayhew preferred men. Men likeDavid.
"Come sit, Edouard," Remy welcomed his friend and agent. "We've a glass ready foryou."
"And we're delighted to say," said Marianne," that my uncle prepares to buy whatever you tell him will be the nextsensation."
Liv sat back, her heart pounding, her fears doubling that her time with Killian was very short. Shorter than she predicted. Because the fear in her heart spread like poison through her bloodstream. Listening with half a heart, half an ear, half a mind, she took part in the discussion when she could with a smile and anod.
But her flesh crawled as she imagined Mayhew climbing the staircase in the House of Worth on the Rue de la Paix and mulling over what he'd just witnessed. His wife, curse her, would notice his confusion and ask its source. He'd never been clever or wily. Always an open gregarious creature whom David had loved with every ounce of his uncomplicated soul. Mayhew would casually tell her that the most extraordinary thing just happened when he was up in Montmartre. Of all people, he'd run into OliviaBereston.
You remember her, he'dsay.
