Chapter 1
Florian knows the signs well - the newspaper folded precisely, the piles of books, all open or marked with whatever was at hand, research for another "acquisition". He sighs and picks up the stack of letters and bills piled messily on "his" corner of the desk.
He carries them to the smaller desk in the corner, the tidy one with blotter carefully centered and writing supplies kept neatly in their place. He settles in, separating everything into three piles. The first are invitations and visitation requests that require polite refusals. The second, much smaller pile is for acceptances. The third is for bills and other items requiring immediate response.
It takes Florian the better part of the morning to finish his work and it is only after he's sent Luc off to the post office that he leans back and rubs his eyes.
The desk is near a window but the sky is overcast and promising rain. Florian double-checks the ledger and places his pen back in the holder before standing. He stretches, working the stiffness out of his back before carrying the ledger across the room and placing it on Ray's desk. It will be checked after lunch and if errors are found he'll be spending his evening in the cellar again.
The thought makes him grimace as he leaves the study, closing the door behind him. Bookkeeping is hardly his forte but Ray insisted that he take over Jean-Paul's secretarial duties. Florian allows himself a bit of satisfaction knowing that his handwriting is neater and he is better at writing polite refusals. Jean-Paul's better suited to running errands anyway; his sense of direction is infallible.
In truth, Florian is just glad to be useful. He knows he's not brilliant like Ray, but he does try to contribute when he can, and not just because he's earning his keep. He hates the forced idleness of the nobility, passing time surrounded by chatter and gossip. Living with Ray, he has none of the artificial barriers of class that isolated him and his mother in their crumbling home.
Ray still insists on some comforts, however, including a maid and a cook. He even permits Laila's experiments in the kitchen although he never eats them. In truth, he's rather tolerant of the entire household doing as they please as long as his orders are followed precisely and his cigars are stocked.
Florian pauses, mid-way down the hall and considers. Actually, he's the one Ray makes the most demands of. Perhaps because Florian is the newest addition to the group, having been there only two years. Florian scowls and continues towards the dining room. Perhaps it's just because Ray thinks he's a trouble magnet. Which wasn't exactly fair, even if it does seem true on the surface.
Florian smiles and settles down at his place at the dining table. He's dining early because he's got an appointment this afternoon. When Ray hired a tutor for Noel, it was with the stipulation that he would spend part of his time with Florian as well, discussing art, music, history or whatever caught their interest. Monsieur Renault was delighted with the prospect and plans weekly outings for his two charges. Today they are visiting the art museum to see the works on loan from a wealthy American woman.
Florian kept the newspaper article about the exhibit and pulls it from his pocket to re-read while he eats. There is a picture of the woman responsible for the exhibit standing in front of one of the paintings. The caption identifies her as Miranda Harrison, a recent widow who built the large art collection with her late husband during their European honeymoon two years ago. The picture shows her to be young and strikingly beautiful, with large, dark eyes. Florian wonders if they will see her at the museum this afternoon.
Checking the time, he hurries to finish his meal and carries his dishes into the kitchen where Noel is waiting, a half-eaten cookie in his hand.
"Florian!" he cheers, waving with the cookie. "Monsieur Renault wants us to meet him at the car. He's going to drive and said I could sit up front if it's okay with you."
"Only if you promise to stay in your seat while we're moving," Florian counters, taking up a wet cloth and wiping the boy's hands. "Finish your cookie and go get cleaned up. You'll need your warm coat."
Noel takes off in a hurry to get ready and Florian offers Laila a smile. "We'll be back by four if Ray wants to go over any papers before dinner." Laila waves him off, wishing him a good time. She accompanies them occasionally, but declined this time, claiming she had work to do.
Florian freshens up and puts on his coat before joining an impatient Noel in the front hall. He scoops the boy up and runs to the waiting car, both of them laughing as they settle in for the ride.
Renault points out streets and buildings as landmarks as he drives. Florian knows one of the things Ray had stipulated was that Florian and Noel learn their way around the city. For a seven-year-old, Noel can navigate fairly well. It's Florian that seems to be hopeless - he has no sense of direction at all. Instead, he settles for memorizing landmarks and hoping for the best.
It appears to be paying off a little. Florian recognizes their route to the museum including the intersection that would take them to Ray's favorite bookstore. He and Noel wave to the familiar vendors on the corner and smile at a woman walking with her little girl.
The streets are crowded and they have to park on the side of the museum and walk around to the front where small clusters of people are gathered to exchange greetings. Renault leads them around the groups and into the building, Noel holding tight to Florian so neither of them go astray.
They bypass the usual rooms, heading straight for the Harrison exhibit. It is more crowded than usual for this time of day so Renault leads them through the maze of rooms towards the back of the exhibit where there are fewer patrons. One of them, however, Florian recognizes immediately.
The newspaper picture had not done Miranda Harrison justice. Indeed, she is beautiful, but seeing her in person, Florian is struck by her vitality. She moves quickly but with grace, and her eyes are alight with interest, and perhaps a flash of mischief. She glances his way, catching his eyes, and he turns away, embarrassed to be caught staring.
"Excuse me." Her voice is soft and pleasant. "Forgive me for being forward, but I believe I have your painting." She extends her hand first to Florian, "Miranda Harrison." She nods briefly to Renault and Noel before gripping Florian's arm and towing him off to an adjacent room without waiting for an introduction.
As soon as they cross the threshold, Florian falters. There, on the center of the opposite wall is his parents' wedding portrait. It was one of the last items his mother sold before her death.
Standing in front of the magnificent full-sized painting, Florian's vision blurs. He has nothing left of his family or home. Seeing this familiar image makes his heart ache.
"Are they your mama and papa?" Noel asks, reaching up to take Florian's hand. The boy is extremely sensitive to his guardian's moods. "The man looks like you."
"Yes they are," Florian answers quietly, reaching down to pick Noel up. "See, they're in their wedding clothes, and back there," Florian points to the distant view visible through what had been the drawing room window in their country estate. "There was a maze and flower gardens. I used to play in them when I was your age."
"So you are Monsieur Rochefort. " Miranda says happily. "I knew it."
"Florian," he replies, finally able to introduce himself. "And my companions, Monsieur Renault and Master Tassel."
Renault bows to the woman and Noel says, "hi" before demanding, "Why do you have a painting of Florian's mama and papa?"
"We couldn't keep it," Florian explains quietly. "So my mother arranged for it to be put in a shop where it could be bought by someone who would like looking at it." Florian offers a weak smile. "It's very nice of Madame Harrison to let other people see it too, isn't it Noel?"
"Yes." Noel agrees with a nod. "Thank you, Madame Harrison."
"You are quite welcome, Master Tassel." She touches Florian's arm. "I am sorry if I made you sad..." She hesitates then asks, "It's 'Marquis Rochefort' is it not?"
"Just Florian, please, Madame. I prefer not to use my title."
"As you wish, of course." She looks at the painting again, then back at the sad young man. "The collection will be here for another three weeks. If you'll give your address to the curator, I'll see the portrait is returned to you at that time."
Florian gasps, shocked by her generous offer. "Oh, no," he protests, blushing. "I couldn't... buy it back from you, Madame."
"And I wouldn't dream of asking you to. It would be a gift."
Florian takes a half-step back, blushing harder. "I couldn't..."
Miranda Harrison is a perceptive woman. She connects all the pieces before her with bits of gossip she's heard and realizes the young man's dilemma. "An exchange then," she offers. "I am in need of an escort for several events while I am in Paris. You attend the theatre, don't you?" Florian nods slowly, but his blush doesn't fade. "I will have to ask..."
"Your patron." She finishes for him and offers a reassuring smile. "Give me your address and I shall ask him myself." She leans a bit closer and lowers her voice as if confiding a secret. "I'm afraid I'm an uncouth American, unfit for Paris society. You'd be doing me a tremendous favor, Florian." Florian's expression softens and Miranda knows she's found the way to persuade him. With his fairness and her dark beauty, they'll be the most striking couple in Paris, drawing attention exactly where she wants it. Now all she has to do is charm the old man who keeps Florian as a pet.
"If you are sure?" Florian sets Noel down and takes one of his name cards from an inner pocket. He accepts the pen Renault offers and writes his address on the back. He hands it to Madame Harrison and returns the pen to Renault with a nod of thanks.
"I shall call on him this evening," she promises and excuses herself to greet other patrons, allowing the men to finish their tour of the exhibit.
XXXXX
"Enter," Ray calls, barely glancing up from his pile of papers. "What?" he demands when Florian doesn't speak immediately.
"We went to the museum today," Florian starts, faltering. "To see the Harrison collection. There was...a portrait..." He trails off at Ray's fearsome glare.
"I have work to do."
"I know. I'm sorry. It's just... it was the wedding portrait. My parents. And Madam Harrison says she'll give it to me if I just..." Florian takes a step back as Ray's glare burns into him. "She's coming to talk to you about it tonight. She wants me to escort her to the theatre is all." He takes another step back as Ray stands and moves around the desk. "You know I wouldn't ask... but everything was sold or burned... I don't have anything left..."
Florian is backed against the door now and Ray is leaning in, his hand gently resting against Florian's face. They are breathing each other's air, eyes locked. "I'll listen to what she has to say, but I'm not making any promises."
Florian nods, then whispers, "thank you", as he tilts his head into Ray's touch. Ray leans in closer only to pull away, startled when someone knocks on the door.
"Go rest until dinner," he tells Florian. "Your paperwork is done for today."
Florian nods and leaves the room, passing an impatient Laila on his way out.
"Some lady sent her card." Laila hands the ivory-colored rectangle to Ray. "It says she'll be visiting at 7 this evening. Does this mean we'll need tea and cakes?"
"I suppose, but first I need some information on Miranda Harrison." Ray drops into his desk chair and sighs. The things he does for his Amethyst.
XXXXX
Miranda Harrison and her companion arrive precisely at 7 and are escorted by Laila into Ray's formal drawing room. Tea is laid out but both ladies decline after the introductions and polite formalities are observed.
"Forgive my intrusion, Count Courland." Miranda Harrison has a charming smile and knows how to use it effectively. Ray finds himself smiling back, then having to hide his spark of annoyance. He does not want to be charmed by anyone who has an eye on Florian.
"Florian told me of your meeting, Madame Harrison, and your extremely generous offer." Ray leans forward, just enough to let a hint of warning show. "What I don't understand is your motive."
Agnes Dobbs, the dour-faced companion clears her throat while giving Ray a warning look of her own. Miranda pats her hand soothingly and laughs. "It's no wonder you're so protective of your charge, Count Courland. He is a lovely young man, but so very sad. How could I deny him the painting after it made him smile?"
She waves her hand dismissively before Ray can respond. "But you are a businessman and don't indulge in such sentimentality." She laughs again at his expression and glances at her companion. "I told you, Agnes." She turns her attention back to Ray. "The truth, sir, is that I am a young widow, reasonably attractive, traveling through Europe with a small fortune in artwork. This tends to attract a great deal of attention - especially from men seeking a beautiful, rich wife." She blinks rapidly and her hands flutter for a moment until her companion presses a handkerchief into them. Miranda skims it over her eyes before continuing. "My Robert's been gone nearly a year now, but I miss him every day. That's why I'm here, retracing our honeymoon journey. I have no interest in finding a replacement husband, or even a lover, yet some men seem unable to hear the word 'no'."
She blinks and turns those lovely eyes on Ray with determination. "If I am to appear at a few social events - well publicized social events - with the very handsome Marquis Florian du Rochefort as my steady companion, I believe that some of those men will finally be dissuaded. The painting is a small price for some peace, Count Courland."
She drops back against the seat and adds, "I believe I would like a cup of tea now."
Laila has been standing quietly in the back of the room, but she moves forward now to serve. She does so passably, then fades back again to listen.
"Do you have a list of these well publicized social events? I understand you are only here for another three weeks." Ray asks as he takes a cigar from his pocket and motions with it. Miranda nods her permission and he lights up, taking a long draw.
"You are correct. We're leaving in three weeks but before that I have four events I must attend - the Spanish Ambassador's ball, the premiere of that new play, General Whitcomb's birthday soiree and the closing reception for my exhibit. I shall cover all of Florian's expenses for these events, of course, including new clothes and his transportation."
"That won't be necessary," Ray counters smoothly. "Florian's wardrobe is more than adequate, and he shall have the use of my car as I will be attending these events as well."
"Why Count, that is most generous." Miranda sets aside her empty teacup and rises, extending her hand, palm down, for Ray to kiss. "I shall be delighted to have the company of two such gallant gentlemen." She motions to Agnes who hands her a folded piece of ivory stationery. "The address of my hotel as well as the list of events and their dates and times. I shall see you in two days, Count Courland. Please accept my thanks for your generosity."
Ray stands, nodding his acceptance of her thanks as he motions for Laila to escort the women out. He's still standing there when Laila returns several minutes later.
"You're sure you found nothing?" he demands, rubbing his forehead as if it aches. Laila shakes her head and Ray sighs. "Something's off about her but I have no idea what it is. For now we'll just have to wait and keep alert."
Laila nods firmly in agreement and clears away the tea while Ray heads upstairs to give Florian the news.