The next day, Freya was happy to forget about her violin audition. She never predicted she’d ever think such a thing, but she was in great need of diversion and amusement, and the Paris Exposition was just the thing.
Lord Bouchet arrived full of smiles, which she readily returned. His mother sat in the front seat near him and Freya and her grandmother in the back.
“I feel thrice blessed today.” Lord Bouchet grinned. “For I am going to the exposition with three of the loveliest ladies in all of Paris.”
Her grandmother giggled, and Freya shook her head.
He adjusted his hat. “Where shall we go first? The Camp de Mars, the Trocadero, the Esplanade des Invalides, or along the banks of the Seine?”
“Could we see the Palace of Electricity?” Freya would be pleased to see any of the exhibition, all of it, really.
Lord Bouchet raised a finger into the air. “Yes! She’s done it. She’s picked the best first spot. And then how about we see as many of the different countries’ pavilions as we can.”
Freya couldn’t agree more. “I should very much like to see the Rue des Nations. Perhaps China, Sweden, Hungary.”
“And England, naturally.”
“Certainly.”
As soon as they were out on the street, walking in the crowds, Freya felt even more free from her cares. Young families, people in love, the elderly all walked past them. The exposition was for all people. Everything around them had been built up, created—even full structures—to celebrate the exposition. The Eiffel Tower rose above them, still as yellow as she’d ever seen a monument but impressive all the same.
“And now I’ve found a spectacle we shall all enjoy.” Lord Bouchet led them across the square to something Freya had never seen before.
“Is that . . . ?” She furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
“A moving walkway.” He rubbed his hands together. “Come. Let us try it out.”
His mother reached for Grandmother’s hand. “Certainly not. I don’t want anything to do with that nonsense.”
Grandmother shook her head. “That won’t sit well with me, not at all. You two go on.”
“Yes, you two go on, certainly.” His mother waved them on after they made plans to meet again in two hours.
As soon as Freya and Lord Bouchet were out of earshot, he breathed out. “And now we can really get somewhere with our conversation. Come. Let’s try this ridiculous moving walkway.”
“It does look rather interesting, don’t you think?”
“I’ve never seen one before at any rate.” They stepped onto a platform and then onto the moving path.
After a moment, Freya began to think she could walk faster than their current pace. “It moves rather slowly, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose.” The path moved forward, taking them across the plaza. Freya found she could not look at the sights around her long enough. Everything held such beautiful details that she would need a week to capture it all.
Lord Bouchet pointed up ahead. “Oh, here we go. Now it gets faster.” He led her to the next level. They stepped up and grabbed hold of tall posts that clipped along with them. Freya squealed in happy surprise as she moved even faster along the edge of the exposition.
Once they’d been moving for a moment, she turned to Lord Bouchet. “Tell me how you met the woman you love.”
“Now? I was hoping first we might discuss your travels. I assume that your mystery man made an appearance.”
“Yes, he did.” She smiled. “And we had a rather close encounter in a closet.” She grinned.
His eyes widened. “Well that is something.”
Freya shook her head. “It was nothing improper, just an unusual circumstance. But he’s behaving oddly now. In fact, he left without saying goodbye.”
Lord Bouchet nodded. “Hmm. That doesn’t bode well, does it?” His tone sounded forlorn, but his eyes sparkled with humor.
“I don’t know. Stop toying with me. This is hard enough as it is.”
“Yes, I too know what it feels like to pine for something that can never be.” All teasing had gone from his expression.
“Tell me. Tell me about her.” A suspicion had begun to build, one she didn’t dare express until she learned more.
“She has delightful red hair with a smattering of freckles.”
Freya’s heart sped up.
“She has the best sense of adventure, fun, humor.”
“Yes, and?”
He searched her face. “What is going on?”
“Just tell me.”
“We fell in love. She with me as much as I with her. How often does such a thing happen?”
“I . . . I don’t know. Where were you? Was it at a house party?”
His mouth dropped open. “How could you know that?”
“What is her name?”
He studied her for many moments, looked away, and then turned to her again. “I am not certain why you ask these questions. Can I dare to hope that you know something, that you have some glimmer of something?”
“Tell me her name.” She pressed her fingers into his arm.
“I’m afraid to say it.”
“Come now.”
“Oh, all right. What can it matter? Gertie. Her name is Gertie Thomas.”
She gasped. “I knew it. Gertie Thomas. You fell in love with each other at the house party, but your mother forbade it, saying she had someone else in mind, someone whose grandmother was her dearest friend.” She clutched his arm tighter. “Me?” She shook her head. “This is all so . . . How can this be?”
“I don’t know.” He stood very still, his expression hesitant, almost fearful.
“I know her. She is a student with me. We share a room.” She reached for the lapel of his jacket. “How can this be?” she repeated and shook her head. “But . . . but I know what we can do.”
“You do?”
“You must come to our final performance, a ball. Come as my guest. And we shall see what we can make of this.”
His mouth opened and closed, and he swallowed multiple times before he seemed to find words to speak. “What do you intend?”
“I believe we can straighten this out. Come. We will tell everyone you are coming at my personal invitation. They will jump over each other to make it happen. I can’t wait to see Gertie’s face when she sees you. She’s my best friend, you know.”
He eyed her appraisingly. “Yes, I can see that. She would be, wouldn’t she?”
“She’s lovely. I can see why you love her and she you.”
“Does she? Does she still?” The hope in his face, his eyes, so dear. She wanted to rest her hand on his cheek, to smile and tell him they would make it work for him. He asked again, “Can it be true?”
“Oh yes. That’s how I knew your story. She loves you still. She can’t love another.” She shook her head. “In fact, there was a time I heard only of you from her mouth for days on end. Can you believe that I know how you prefer to take your tea?”
He looked away and put a fist to his mouth.
“Are you all right?”
When he turned back, she was stunned to see his eyes welling with tears. “Yes, I’m fantastic. For the first time, I have real hope again.” To her great surprise, he pulled her into a hug, right there in front of everyone.
She choked. “You’re welcome.”
He nodded. They laughed together for a moment, and then his attention was diverted. He studied something behind her, over her head. When he looked down into her face again, his expression was earnest, serious. “Turn around.”
“What?” She turned. “What am I looking—” Erich. His tall frame, broad shoulders, curly hair at his temples etched in her mind. She turned back to Lord Bouchet. “Oh.” She clutched the lace at her heart.
“Is it him?”
Erich stood across the way from them in the middle of the street. “Yes.” Her voice came out as a whisper. “How did you know?”
“He was staring daggers at me.” He shook his head and waved.
Erich picked up his pace, attempting to walk at the speed of their moving walkway.
“So, him?” Lord Bouchet pretended to size him up. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” She put her hands on her hips. “Why is that so difficult to believe?”
“It’s not, but I don’t know. Well, take his breeches.”
“His . . . breeches?”
“Certainly. You can tell everything about a man by the fit of his breeches.”
She turned to look and then felt her face flush. “I’m not interested in the fit of his breeches.”
Lord Bouchet tipped his head back and laughed. “But I made you look, now didn’t I?” His grin was too much and she wanted to swat him. He diverted his gaze back to her. “But really. He’s the one, is he?”
She stood at his side as they both watched Erich attempt to keep pace with their moving walkway. He was falling behind.
They approached one of the stops for the walkway.
Lord Bouchet turned to her. “This is what we’re going to do. We get off here. You go spend time with your man. I’ll get myself a beer at the German pavilion, and I’ll meet you in front of the Palace of Electricity.”
Her heart skipped in happy swirls. “Are you certain?”
“Yes, I’m certain. Now hurry. You only have two hours before our venerable chaperones become suspicious.”
“Right. Thank you.” She linked her arms with Lord Bouchet’s. Then they both stepped off the moving walkway and onto a platform.
Lord Bouchet lifted his hat and bowed in Erich’s direction, then nodded to her and hurried off toward the German pavilion.