Alexis and James, along with Tilda and Josh, arrived in Paris late on Wednesday afternoon. They were happy to be in this most beautiful city after the raucous and overcrowded port of Le Havre.
They went directly to Alexis’s favorite hotel in the City of Light, Le Meurice, which was where she had always stayed with her father. It was also quite close to their Paris office, located on the Rue de Rivoli.
Tilda had just finished unpacking for her and had then left to go to her own room, when there was a light knocking on the sitting room door of her suite.
Wondering who it could be, Alexis walked across the floor and opened the door to find James standing there.
“Is everything all right? How is your room?” she asked.
“Very nice, thank you. I just wondered if we could have supper, talk about the business problems before we go to the office tomorrow.”
“That’s a good idea. I shall tell Tilda and Josh to go and see the sights. How does that sound?”
He nodded. “Where shall we have supper? You know Paris better than I do.”
“I think we should stay here. There’s a very nice restaurant in the hotel. Seven o’clock in the hotel lobby?”
James nodded. “See you then,” he said, and was gone in a flash.
Alexis sat down at the desk and was about to write a telegram to her father, and then changed her mind. Perhaps it was better not to put anything in writing for the moment. In fact, perhaps not at all.
A member of their family had committed a criminal act by stealing from them. It was better told verbally, wasn’t it? How sad this would be for her father. Betrayal by his cousin was not a nice thing to hear. And he had been saddened lately because his older brother, Joshua, had been rendered helpless after a stroke. Her father was vulnerable at this moment in time. Anyway, bad news could wait.
Leaving the desk, she walked across the sitting room, lay down on the chaise, and covered herself with a small blanket Tilda had placed there. Closing her eyes, she hoped to have a nap before going to supper with James Falconer.
In the last few days, she had changed her mind about him in certain ways. She didn’t know him well. She had met him several times, but he had always seemed oddly cold, too matter-of-fact to her. But now she realized that he was simply keeping his place, reporting to her as his boss, in a sense, when speaking about the arcades. He had done a good job with them; there was no question about that. He was a hard worker, diligent and disciplined.
On this trip, so far, he had been less standoffish, friendlier, and certainly he had handled himself extremely well in Le Havre. Businesslike, efficient, and pleasant with Jacques Armand. She had found herself trusting his judgment when it came to Jacques. She herself was quite certain the warehouse manager was honest and loyal; after all, he had worked for them for over twenty years. When Falconer had said he believed Jacques’s story about Percy and that he really had only just discovered what was going on, this pleased her, gave her a sense of relief.
It was Tilda who awakened her an hour later. She had dozed for a while, and then apparently fallen asleep. The trip from Le Havre had obviously tired her out today.
Tilda insisted on touching up her hair and persuaded her to change out of the navy cotton dress, which was now badly creased. After washing her hands and face, Alexis put on the gray silk gown Tilda had chosen, much more appropriate for supper in this elegant hotel. Tilda had added a shawl of gray cut velvet and a matching purse.
“Go out and have some fun with Josh,” Alexis said as she was leaving her suite. “There are lots of little bistros around here. Enjoy yourself.”
Tilda gave her a small, shy smile. “He asked me already.”
Alexis smiled back. She went out into the corridor and downstairs to the lobby. James was already waiting for her.
Once he had greeted her, he said with a faint smile, “Tilda and Josh have gone out on the town.”
The way he said it made her laugh, something she hadn’t done for a long time.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked as he took her elbow and led her into the restaurant.
“I don’t know. It was just the way you said it, that’s all. And I hope they have a nice time. Paris is unique.”
James insisted on ordering a glass of white wine for each of them, whilst they studied the menu. Oddly enough, without influencing each other, they both ordered country paté, to be followed by coq au vin, chicken in red wine.
Over the food, James spoke about the meeting with Philippe de Lavalière. Alexis had explained that he ran the shipping division at the Paris office and had for several years. He was answerable to Percy Malvern directly.
“So who is he answerable to now?” James asked, frowning. “With Percy in the wind.”
“You, of course,” she replied at once. “You are running the wine division.”
“Mostly the London end of it though. Not France,” he reminded her.
“That’s true. Personally, I think he should now be answering to you. Until we replace Percy, find someone to do his job.”
James tried to hide an unexpected smile, but his mouth twitched.
“What is it?” she asked, staring at him.
“I was going to say there might well be a lot of people trained in stealing … which apparently was Percy’s job. Lately.”
* * *
The following morning, Alexis and James walked over to the Rue de Rivoli and into the offices of the Malvern company. Alexis introduced herself, and then James.
Philippe de Lavalière was a nice-looking man in his late thirties. He was delighted to meet them, but surprised and upset when he heard what they had discovered in Le Havre.
“I do not understand this. Not at all,” he said in perfect English. “Percy Malvern a thief? Stealing from his own family?” He shook his head. “It is not possible. No, no.”
“How did he behave when he was here a few days ago?” James asked, looking directly at the Frenchman, his eyes narrowing.
“In a hurry. He said he had to visit a friend in hospital. We spoke for only a few minutes. He went into his office and when he left he simply said good-bye and that he would see me later. What are you going to do? This is a scandal.”
“I think we must hire a French lawyer, investigate the situation,” James replied. “For the moment, Jacques Armand is continuing to do his job as manager of the warehouses and he will be answerable to you, Monsieur de Lavalière.”
“Very well. That will work, I am certain.” He paused for a moment, looking at Alexis. “I reported to Mr. Percy directly, Mademoiselle Malvern. To whom shall I report now?”
“Mr. Falconer runs the wine division at the London office, as you already know. I think it would be best if you report to him.”
Philippe de Lavalière nodded, smiling, obviously liking this solution. “That will work, Mademoiselle Malvern.” He then addressed James. “I look forward to passing on my reports, Monsieur Falconer. On a weekly basis.”
After speaking for a short while longer about matters concerning the shipping company, James asked Philippe if he would endeavor to find a good lawyer who might be able to handle the case. The Frenchman said he would do that at once and be in touch.
When Alexis and James finally left the Paris offices of the Malvern company, they agreed that the meeting had been successful. They had both been impressed by Philippe de Lavalière, and knew he was honest and reliable.
Out of the blue, Alexis exclaimed, “I think we ought to celebrate tonight.” She and James were on their way back to the Meurice Hotel. “We have managed to solve our problems. Well, for the moment.”
“We haven’t caught Percy, though,” James answered, eyeing her worriedly as they fell into step. “Maybe we should have reported him to the police.”
Alexis shook her head. “I think we must tell my father everything before we do anything like that. He must make the final decision.”
“Yes, you’re absolutely correct,” James agreed, still uncertain, though.
Once they reached the hotel, Alexis said she had some errands to do and repeated that she really did want him to be her guest this evening. She was looking forward to celebrating with him.
“I’ll see you in the lobby at seven tonight,” Alexis said firmly, and hurried off, aware she could never do that in London. There, single women had to be chaperoned outside.
He watched her walking down the street, wondering how he would manage to get through another social evening with her.
For the first time in his life James Falconer had fallen in love. And with a woman who could never be his. Last night he had not been able to sleep, thinking about Alexis, her extraordinary beauty, and his desire for her.
No woman had ever captured his heart until now. It was a huge dilemma. He could manage to work with her, that he had proven to himself these last few days.
But he could not be alone with her. The solution was to make sure he avoided social events after tonight. He would celebrate their success, as she wanted, just to please her. After that, he would be unavailable in his free time.
* * *
Alexis felt the need to walk, to be outside in the sunlight, to throw off her weariness, all that hurt that had gathered inside her over months. Without thinking of going anywhere special, she just meandered along. Let go of her worries, pushed aside the pain of loss.
Unexpectedly, she found herself on the Champs-Élysées, and remembered how much she and her father had enjoyed walking down this most lovely avenue. It was one of the many created by Georges Haussmann for the Emperor Louis Napoleon in the 1860s. He was the architect who had turned Paris into the beautiful city it was today.
Suddenly she came to a stop in front of a familiar shop. It was where her father had bought her one of her favorite dresses as a girl. Drawn to it by nostalgia, she went to look in the windows.
A gown on display immediately caught her eye. It was deep lavender with a hint of pink. Without another thought she went into the shop.
The young woman who came to help her told her the size of the dress. It was taken out of the window at once. Alexis held it against her body, liked the look of it, and bought it. Just like that. On an impulse. Something she had never done before.
Later, when she was back at the hotel, she wondered why she had been so silly. Obviously she would never wear it, thinking it had been a waste of money.
There was a light knock on the door. Tilda came in carrying two of the cotton day dresses she had been ironing.
Instantly she saw the silk dress on the bed and ran over. She stood staring at it. “Oh, Miss Alexis! It’s beautiful!” she cried, putting the other dresses down, picking up the new one.
“You must wear it tonight,” Tilda exclaimed.
“No, I’m not going to, Tilda. It looks cheap, a bad buy, in haste.”
The young lady’s maid shook her head, picked up the dress, and took hold of Alexis’s arm. She led her to the cheval mirror in the bedroom.
Posing her in front of it, she held the dress against her body, and said, “Just look at yourself, Miss Alexis. It is the most unique color, and perfect for you. Deep lavender.”
Staring at herself as the maid held the dress against her body, Alexis had to agree that it did suit her.
After a little more discussion, Tilda brought Alexis to the dressing table. She began to touch up her glorious auburn hair, redoing the curls on top of her head, smoothing the sides, pulling a few curls onto the front of her forehead.
Tilda, as she dressed her hair, chatted quietly. “You know, you look like Princess Alexandra with this hairdo, Miss Alexis.”
“She’s blond and she’s a Dane,” Alexis answered, not seeing the resemblance at all.
“I know she is, but she’s beautiful and everyone has copied her hairstyle and they copy her clothes.” Struck by a moment of true inspiration, Tilda added, “I’ve seen her in a gown just like this, long and slender with long sleeves. If it’s good enough for the Princess of Wales, it’s good enough for you, Miss Alexis.”
Before Alexis could stand up, Tilda insisted on putting a little pink rouge on her lips. She smoothed her thick auburn eyebrows with a small brush. “There, all done,” the maid said. “Now, you must put on the dress.”
Reluctant though she was, Alexis stepped into the silk gown, waited for Tilda to button it up the back, and then went over to the mirror.
She was shocked at how she looked, turned to Tilda, and said, “It suits me and it doesn’t look cheap at all.”
“It’s perfect on you. It highlights your slim figure, you must wear it. It makes you look younger.”
“But what shoes do I have? And I need a purse,” Alexis said.
“The gray shoes and bag will work with the lavender.” The maid ran to the closet and took out these items.
Alexis hesitated at the bedroom door, as Tilda sprayed a floral scent on her. “Are you sure I look all right?” she asked nervously.
“Beautiful, Miss Alexis. More beautiful than I’ve seen you for … a very long time.”
It was just five minutes to seven when Alexis walked into the lobby of the hotel.
James was standing there waiting for her. He was struck dumb when he first set eyes on her. He had never seen Alexis looking like this, in a lavender gown and with a hint of cosmetics on her face. She was so gorgeous even other people were glancing at her in admiration. He managed to say good evening in a low voice.
She looked up at him, smiled, and slipped her arm through his. “I think we should go in for supper,” she murmured, walking with him to the restaurant.
Once they were seated, she said, “Earlier, I ordered a bottle of Dom Pérignon.” As she glanced around looking for a waiter, she saw one coming toward their table, carrying the champagne in a silver bucket.
Once their flutes had been filled, they clinked glasses, and Alexis said, “To your success, Mr. Falconer.”
Finding his voice at last, he corrected her. “No, to our success.”
A silence fell between them as they sipped the champagne. They just sat staring at each other without saying a word, each lost in their own thoughts.
Alexis, gazing at him more intently than ever before, realized for the first time how very blue his eyes were, almost unnaturally blue. He was a handsome man. How could his looks have escaped her? Preoccupation, she answered herself. Preoccupation with work and my troubles.
Finally he spoke. “Why are you staring at me, Miss Malvern? Is there something wrong?”
“I was thinking how very blue your eyes are,” she murmured.
“They’ve always been blue,” he replied, and then laughed. “Perhaps you never noticed.”
“I think sometimes I have my head pushed down into the work on my desk, and I miss things. I have to change that.”
His eyes were riveted on her face. He took in the vividness of her beauty, the flaming auburn hair, the emerald green eyes, and the sublime ivory complexion. He wasn’t going to walk away from her. That was not his nature. He was going to win her. She was going to be his, no matter what.
At this precise moment, Alexis recognized the expression in James Falconer’s eyes. Her heart tightened. He wanted her.
“Now you’re staring at me,” she said softly. Their eyes locked and she was unable to look away.
She thought suddenly: Perhaps there is a life for me after all.