Page 74 of Ravishing Camille
By the time he assembled in the foyer of Marianne’s and Remy’s palace the next evening to enter the ballroom, Pierce was alive with nerves. He’d endured much too long knowing he was soon to enjoy Camille and watching her laugh with children and smile at others and tempt him. Tempt him with every glance. Every sigh.
Tonight, she strolled down the curving marble stairs in a gown that buckled his knees.
“Ravishing,” he said as he lifted her hand to his lips. “The blue-green lights up your eyes.”
“Monsieur Worth calls the color Adriatic. I call it expensive, but justifiable to see you approve.”
As Marianne and Remy made their way down the hall toward their ballroom, he leaned closer to catch the fragrance of jasmine and honeysuckle. “When did you have time to visit him?”
She tugged on her elbow length gloves and teased him with a smile. “The first day I arrived. Afterward I had an appointment with Madame Villette, too.”
The famous designer of lingerie. “I hope that visit was satisfactory.”
“Hmm,” she crooned as she looped her arm through his. “You must tell me.”
“Tomorrow.” He patted her hand. “Tomorrow.”
Chapter 18
Camille stepped down from Remy’s town coach at the grand entrance of the Gare de l’Est and thanked the groom for his kindness.
“Shall I hail a porter for you,Mademoiselle?”
“No,merci,Andre.” The graying man, concerned, had long been employed by the family. He was a jolly fellow whom she had always liked. She hated to fib to him. “If you will put my trunk and valise beside me, that will be good. I expect a friend.”
“I will wait with you then.”
“That is not necessary, Andre. Most kind of you. But no one will accost me here.” She tipped her head toward the chattering crowd gathering on the cobbles, many emerging from cabs with their own luggage and boxes and bags.
“Mademoiselle, you have no maid. I fear for you.”
“Andre, if someone wishes to attack me, a maid would be no use. Besides,” she offered and brandished her parasol. “I have this!”
He grimaced and muttered a French curse.
Around the corner, a large black cab fit for country travel rounded a lorry and another town hack. The window was open and inside, she was most certain, sat Pierce. She hoped he could see that Andre lingered. If Pierce had his coachman stop for her, Andre would know he and she departed together.
Every muscle in her body was alive with fear of discovery. “Honestly, Andre. You may leave me.”
The man shook his head, climbed up into his box and flicked the reins at the two matching Percherons. Off he went with a doff of his hat.
The large cab that had idled at the corner approached behind an omnibus and stopped by her side. The cabbie climbed down, opened the door and lowered the step, then faced her with his hand out.
“My ride?” She peered inside at the man who welcomed her with a grin.
“I am indeed. Climb in, my lady.”
And up she went straight into his embrace.
“Oh,” she sighed against him, her head tucked under his jaw, his arms hugging her close. “I never thought to be here.”
He put a finger beneath her chin and examined her eyes. “Nor I. It’s been a devilish long time, but we’ll make up for it.”
Her gaze dropped to his lips. “Soon.”
He pressed the flat of one finger to her lips. “I daren’t touch you that way yet. Not yet. We’ve a train ride to endure.”
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