Page 12 of Wild Lily
“I agree,” Remy said.
“Ah, Miss Hanniford, Mrs. Roland,bon jour.” A tall, slim woman in severely cut black serge sailed into the room, her hands clasped in distress. She must be thevendeuseassigned to the two women. “Ah, such acatastrophe.My apologies for my delay. I have heard of your terrible accident in the streets. It is so horrible. I cannot imagine. But I see that Henri has given you brandy. May I offer it to the rest of your party?”
“He did already, Mademoiselle Gerard,” Miss Hanniford said.
“Not for me,Mademoiselle,” Remy replied.
“Nor me. However, you can tell us,” Julian said, “if you have a patron in the house at the moment who owns a small dog.”
Thevendeuse’s eyes went wide. Worth’s sales girls did not speak of other clientele. “Ah…er…Monsieur—?”
“Lord Chelton,” he informed her. “Is there such a customer here in house now?”
“It would be indiscreet of me, my lord, to reveal—“
“Gerard, let me be clear. There was a serious accident in the boulevard.” He felt no compunction about addressing her simply by her last name. She was not worthy of niceties if she did not understand the import of his question and the problem created by her careless client. Besides, he had no patience with those who did not see the implications of their actions. “It could have cost Madame le Comtesse her life. Others fled in fear of theirs. A horse was terrified. A driver, too. His carriage damaged. If a runaway dog caused this—and we have statements that this did occur—then the lady who owns the animal must pay the bill.”
“But of course. I understand.” Deferential, eyes cast to the floor, Gerard bowed her way backward. “If you will but wait a few moments, I will inquire.”
“Do that.”
Silence reigned for a tortuous minute.
“Splendid, my lord Chelton.” Chaumont giggled, lifting her glass in honor of Julian and draining the brandy.
Remy chuckled. “Chelton can intimidate the devil. I say you got Gerard’s attention.”
“Indeed. She’ll return with a criminal,” said Miss Hanniford with a grin.
All five of them laughed.
Chaumont pushed herself up amid the cushions. “I am remiss in my duties. Permit me to introduce to you to the ladies, Lord Chelton.”
Julian expected that she had already introduced Remy properly. As Chaumont spoke, he noted how Miss Hanniford settled more comfortably into her chair, not objecting nor revealing that they had already made their own acquaintance outside. Chaumont went on and he was soon appraised that the blonde lady was Lily Hanniford’s cousin. A married lady, it seemed by her manner of address.
“That settled,” said Remy and turned to the two Americans. “Tell me if you will stay for your fitting? I offer my carriage to escort you home.”
“Thank you, Monsieur le Duc,” Lily said, “but no. We must remain. My father expects it. No accident of rain, sleet or frightened dog amid the carriage wheels should prevent it.”
Her cousin quite agreed. “Uncle Killian is a taskmaster.”
Remy was not deterred. “I have my carriage close by, farther down the street and I’m sure my coachman is attempting to pull forward amid the crowd. I’d be quite happy to offer to take you home. All of you.”
“Merci beaucoup, Remy.” Chaumont was quick to accept. She leaned back, regarding him with hazel eyes misty from her consumption of alcohol. “I must not desert my duties. I am charged with escorting Miss Hanniford and Mrs. Roland through the rigors of a Parisentre.”
“No, madame.” Lily had other ideas. “Thank you, for your kindness. If you wish to return home, certainly, do go with the kind man.”
“Et vous?” she asked her young American charge and Julian could see the desire in Chaumont’s eyes that a moment with the fabled Remy was what she desired. “You also need assistance,oui?”
“Madame, please. We can proceed with our selection of fabrics and styles. Our carriage is scheduled to return for us in two hours. In the meantime, we would be very reassured that you are on the road to recovery if you were in your own home resting.”
Julian fought a smile. He could detect from Chaumont’s dreamy expression that the wily widow hoped to return to Remy’s home to engage in a particular type of recovery. Injured ankle, be damned.
“Please do not trouble yourself,” Mrs. Roland assured Chaumont with a pat of her hand. “We can finish ourselves.”
“If you think it possible.” Chaumont postured prettily.
“I do,” Mrs. Roland said.
