Page 16 of Sweet Siren
"But honest," he said with a tone ofnonchalance.
She nodded. She'd promised him truth and he gotit.
"Has Camille enjoyedParis?"
Liv inhaled, appreciative of Killian's turn to another subject. "She did. Every girl loves a wedding, a romance, and when it is her famous cousin, the sculptor Remy, marrying an American heiress, she can talk of nothing but love and those who must live happily ever after. You see, she fancies herself an author of gothic romances—and I must say, since I've read a few of hers, she's good at it. So coming to Paris gives her fuel for herfires."
"Why not staylonger?"
"I must return toLondon."
"Duty?"
"Business."Lack of money.She hurried on. "I love Paris. So different from London and British society. My mother brought me a few times when I was a girl. Now I come for only a few days at a time. To complete my clients' orders. And my visits are necessarily short. But Paris has changed so much lately for the good. I don't know itwell."
"When were you here last for aholiday?"
"Eight years ago. Just before the war with the Prussians and the terrible siege of the Commune. Andre's mother, the princess, was a godsend to many during that awful time. She fed the orphans, saving hundreds of them. She stilldoes."
"I didn't know that," he said. "She doesn't speak aboutit."
"She wouldn't. Though she's richer by far than many, she uses her money to improve thecity."
"That's what wealth is intended to do," he said with a conviction that had her questioning her previous assumptions ofhim.
She halted, surprised and intrigued by his praise. "You believethat?"
"I do." He examined her for a long minute, then shook his head. "You thought I was a fiend who created wealth to hordeit?"
She tipped her head. "I know few who believeotherwise."
He snorted. "You haven't met the rightpeople."
"I should meet more like you."Though I think you are one of akind.
"That or get to know mebetter."
"To that I have agreed, good sir."Good heavens, was she being coy withhim?
He grinned. "You mentioned clients. Are any of them trolls who hordemoney?"
"A few." She rolled her eyes. "After they part with much of it somewhat reluctantly I might add, to feather theirnests."
"And you help them with this 'feathering'?"
"I do. Tomorrow morning, I have an appointment with the manager of theSèvresfactory."
"The makers ofporcelain?"
"Yes. I acquire the best in the world for the richest in the world. I commission complete table services for my clients. Often times, the design is original to them. Their motto or their crest bakedin."
He arched a brow, in feigned humor. "You consult others on their dinnerplates?"
"On their dining rooms, their furniture, their draperies," she said, loving that she astonished him. She stopped at a statue of some military man whose pose resembled that of Napoleon in Canova's infamous portrait. Hand tucked in his buttoned coat, the soldier had donned the same placid expression as his emperor. She admired this living man before her, this new emperor of industry, so much more handsome than either the French leader or his follower. "I consult most often with one architect on the construction of his clients newhomes."
"Is thatprofitable?"
"For me? I daresay I am building a reputation forit."
