Page 4 of Lord Carlisle's Enticing Lure
“We must hurry to ensure none of us catches a chill from this. What room are you in? I can escort you.”
“Please, do not bother with me. Your daughter needs you.”Do I sound like a trained parrot?She turned to the child, sorry to end the little girl’s acquaintance so soon. “Goodbye, my dear. Sir? I thank you for everything.”
He looked bereft. “Please, allow me to—”
She patted her hip, looking for her little purse, but all she had was that thin, wet muslin clinging to her. Alarmed, she threw up her hands. “Ah, non!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I…I just realize I have lost my little reticule in the sea. My coins and my key, they are gone!”
“I’m sure the hotel manager will give you another key. As for your reticule, change quickly and we can both return to search the beach.”
“Non, non. Merci beaucoup, monsieur.” Oh, now she was so undone she was reverting completely to her native language. Many English hated French. She would hate it if suddenly he were one of them and changed his attitude toward her. “I can find it.”
“Sir!” He hailed a man who had just finished with another guest. “This lady has lost her key. Please, a substitute! We had a mishap on the beach and, as you can see, she is freezing and needs to get into her room quickly.”
“Your name, my lady?” The receptionist ran his gaze down her disheveled form.
“Madame Laurant, monsieur. Room122.”
Raising a finger, the fellow was spurred to action by the immediacy of need. He scurried behind his formal wall and returned with a large iron key. “Is there anything else I can do for you? A hot bath, perhaps?”
“Oui, later. In an hour,peut-être? I must find my little purse and money. Merci beaucoup.” Then she turned to her dashing stranger and bade him, “Au revoir, monsieur. I remain ever thankful for your help.”
Her rescuer stepped with her toward the grand staircase. “Madame Laurant!S’il vous plaît.Do allow me to introduce myself and my daughter.”
Oh, that she did not want! She could waste no time with endearing men. “Monsieur…”
“I am Carlisle. Lord Carlisle of Richmond and London and a few other places.”
The name…the name sang in her head. Why?
“And this is my daughter, Annabelle Davenport. She likes kites, as well you know. Birds, flowers, too, eh, my chick?” He tickled the girl’s tummy, and she curled up in a giggle. “We call her Bella.”
“Belle,” she corrected her father with a bright-eyed smirk.
Giselle had to give in to such charm. Few had offered it to her in the past decade. She craved it and so she relented. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, monsieur. And Belle’s.”
They took the stairs and, of course, he was such a gentleman that he took hold of Giselle’s elbow. He was persistent.
Her room was second from the stairs, and in an instant, they stood before her door. She inserted her key and let the door fall open. “Thank you once more, Lord Carlisle. Goodbye, Belle. No more running to the sea without your papa, promise me.”
“Promise.” The little girl nodded her golden head, her arms still clinging to her father’s neck.
Lord Carlisle was not so easily dismissed. He smiled down at Giselle as if he held a marvelous secret that lit his electric-gray eyes. “We are next door.”
“How wonderful,” she said with less relish than he had announced it. She wished no proximity to lead to any more friendliness.
“Please, will you allow me to invite you and your husband to dinner?”
“Non. I take my meals alone.”
“Monsieur Laurant is not with you?”
“Monsieur passed away many years ago, my lord. Many thanks for your generosity. Now, if you don’t mind, I must change my clothes.”
“Of course.” He took a respectful step back. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you. Anything at all.”
