To Sketch a Sphinx - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,38

of the English, madame, and it is no surprise to find your thoughts so.”

“Have you been to England?”

“Several times. I find London fascinating, though lacking in the beauty Paris possesses.” He looked down at her with a smile. “I hope this does not offend.”

Hal smiled back easily. “Not at all. London has its charms, but I prefer the country.”

“Ah.” Leclerc turned towards her a little. “Which in particular? Do you have a country house, as so many do?”

“I am not so fortunate,” Hal laughed, “nor so wealthy. No, my husband and I are in London for the present, though we will leave it as soon as we find something to our tastes. I adore the Lake District perhaps most of all. Have you seen it?”

“Sadly, no.” Leclerc’s eyes, dark and unreadable, seemed fixed on her with interest, though not the sort that would be considered flirtatious. It was rather the way Hal found herself looking at a drawing in progress, or how Pratt looked at the letter before the cipher was evident.

What did Leclerc think of Hal, and was she already suspected of something?

“You should see it,” Hal told him when he did not say more. “It reminds me of the tales my mother told me of the south of France, though perhaps without the same pleasant weather.”

Leclerc smiled at that and returned his attention to the group. “The south of France is quite picturesque to those who fail to see Paris for its beauty and its influence. I trust you will discover such while you are here.”

“I do hope so.” Hal felt her smile hardening. The change in Leclerc’s tone and manner was fascinating considering their topic of discussion. “I find it rather diverting so far.”

“I am glad of it.” Leclerc sipped his wine slowly, laughing in response to something a member of their group had said.

Hal felt him losing interest, and she couldn’t have that. She needed more opportunity, more conversation…

“Do you go to the opera, Monsieur Leclerc?” she tried with almost desperation.

He nodded, his eyes sliding to her again. “I do, in fact. A recent appreciation. Have you attended since your arrival in Paris?”

“We have. Just the other night, we saw Elisabetta, regina d’Inghilterra.” She held her breath, praying he would take advantage of the topic she had intentionally chosen.

“And what did you think of it?”

Exhaling, Hal let herself purse her lips in apparent thought. “I am English, monsieur. I have learned much about Queen Elizabeth in my life, and I grow weary of the topic. She did much good, I will allow, but she is revered almost as a saint, which history shows she was not. No monarch is. The opera itself was middling, and I found the whole affair rather tedious.” Her eyes widened and she looked up at him in horror. “Please, monsieur, do not tell my cousin I said such things. He meant the experience to be a welcoming one for my husband and me, and I could not have him think…”

“Madame,” Leclerc interrupted with some gentleness, his expression kind, “your secret will remain so, I promise.”

“Thank you, monsieur.” Hal shook her head, placing a hand on her cheek. “I am so ashamed. If you’ll excuse me a moment, I will compose myself.”

Leclerc nodded rather like a bow. “Of course, madame. I shall reserve your place beside me for when you return.”

Hal smiled indulgently and moved away from him towards the window behind the group. Snapping open her fan, she began to move it steadily to bring cooler air to her complexion, though she doubted there was any color there to reduce.

Waiting a moment, she stared as though out of the window, though her attention was truly on the faint reflection in the glass rather than what lay beyond it.

Leclerc seemed to be watching her still, and she would not move until he was settled. His name was called by someone in the group, and he turned to address them, allowing Hal to move just slightly towards the corner, preventing her reflection from being clearly observed.

She slipped her hand into the hidden pocket in the folds of her skirts and quickly unfolded the paper she had deposited there only moments ago. She scanned every word on the page three times, committing each to memory, then refolded the note and returned it to her pocket, the fan still continuously moving in her free hand.

Tossing her head, she closed her eyes and exhaled to herself, and only for herself.

Then she turned with a smile and