Page 7 of Sweet Siren
Chapter 3
Liv manageda glance down the long dining table in the Remy Palais on the Rue di Rivoli. For more than two hours, she'd avoided looking at that particular spot where Killian Hanniford sat. In his black swallowtail tuxedo and starkly white cravat and red satin waistcoat, he'd captured her attention when first she entered the palace again tonight at eight. He'd greeted her with a heated smile and kind words that all could overhear. If she detected hints of undue interest, if she caught intimations of invitations to speak personally with him, she assured herself those were wishes. Unwiseones.
She concentrated on the glories she enjoyed of an evening in a glamorous home with famous people. Breathing such fine air was such a rarity that she was giddy with it. The food, the wine, the wit of the combined families of Hanniford, Seton and Remy filled her with a delight and a gratitude that she'd been invited—and that she'd decided tocome.
Camille, as was her place for one not yet officially out, had not come for the formal soirée but remained at their hotel. That establishment tucked in the corner of Boulevard Saint-Germain on the left bank was not among Paris' most elegant, but it was what Liv could afford. And it was safe. Respectable. She'd had no misgivings about leaving Camille alone in their small suite. And her daughter was happy to bid her goodnight.
"Remember everything, Mama. I will write about it in my newestnovel."
Her daughter fancied herself a writer. Liv did not discourage her, either. Camille, like Liv, would have to find a means to earn a living. Her daughter knew her place in society, disgraced as she was by both her mother's and her father's names. And like Liv, her daughter predicted that should she marry, she should not depend upon a husband to support her. Or even if he did at first, he might lose any wealth he possessed. Just as her father had. And hergrandfather.
"Shall we retire to the drawing room?" the Princess d'Aumale said and rose to her feet. "No need to split, do you think? I'd say we need cigars and brandy. All of us together,eh?"
Andre, the duc de Remy, laughed. Sitting at the left hand of his mother, he arched a brow at his new bride across from him, and said so all might hear, "Mama would like to enjoy acheroot."
"I think she should," said Marianne with a wink at her mother-in-law.
"Will you join her?" Andre leaned forward to askher.
"Not tonight. But I'll save my marker for a futuredate."
Andre waved a hand toward his guests. "On notice already, and I'm not married twelve hoursyet!"
The party of sixteen, all family in one degree or another, got to their feet. Led by the Princess, Andre and Marianne, they filed out to the hall and drifted toward the drawing room or the ladies or gentlemen's retiringrooms.
As the throng thinned, Killian fell in besideLiv.
"I like the purple on you. It highlights the pink in your cheeks and the eloquence of your darkeyes."
Liv grinned and smoothed her long gloves over her elbows. "I like the red of your waistcoat. It reminds me what a rebel youare."
He laughed. "If you refer to my years running ships though the Union blockade, that was longago."
"But it's how you gained yourwealth."
As they strolled into the drawing room, he took her arm to lead her to a settee for two. "You know so much about me and I know very little aboutyou."
Sitting beside him, her hip against his, she grew warm. She put a hand to her throat. She’d worn one of her best pieces, inexpensive silver. Cheap really. All the estate jewels gone to the auction houses decadesago.
His eyesfollowed.
Of course he could tell their worth or lack.But his gaze was too intimate to indicate he assessed the value. He appraised her.Only her.“Won’t you tell me aboutyourself?”
Her mouth watered. Why did he unnerve her so? Because he was nothing she had anticipated. Ruthless, brusque and mean was how she had pictured him. But she'd witnessed him be only courteous and funny. Kind and unnervingly intuitive. "I would have thought in the interim, you'd ask Andre or the Princess aboutme."
He pursed his lips and considered the others who gathered in the room and took their places. "I prefer you tellme."
"Why?"
"You'll tell me thetruth."
You would not appreciate it. I would hate it. So why would I even attempt it?She fought for some diplomatic exit. "Ah, but I could embellish the tale. Most people do when describingthemselves."
"I doubt you'd do that withme."
She drew back, once more impressed with his insights. "You have faith in me but don't know me atall."
He sat back, one arm gliding along the back of the settee and creating the illusion that he embraced her. The heat of his body infused her. "I make it a practice to examine those I findintriguing."
