Last Chance for Paris - Merry Farmer Page 0,7

too glanced off at the countryside instead of facing him directly.

Louis waited for her to continue, perhaps to explain her line of questions, but she remained silent. Her silence gave him the opportunity to study the lines of her face, the curve of her lips, and the rigid way she held herself. Miss Solange, whatever her surname was, had a secret. She was holding onto something with her whole being, and she wasn’t going to let it go easily.

They reached the edge of one of the palace gardens, and Louis stopped to turn so that they could walk back to the others.

“I should like to know more about you,” he said with what he hoped was a winning smile. “What on earth possessed you to take a position as companion to Lady Briarwood?”

He asked the question in as light and teasing a way as possible, but Solange’s brow knit into a frown all the same. “The position was available,” she said.

Her answer only made him crave more information. “Were you in need of a position?”

Her lips remained sealed. He wasn’t sure if she intended to answer him, but the point ended up being moot. They were being approached by Damien McGovern and Lord Gregory, both of whom wore concerned frowns and seemed in a hurry to intercept them.

“Lord Sinclair,” Lord Gregory addressed him. “Might I have a word with you?”

“And I’d like to have a word with you,” Mr. McGovern said, staring pointedly at Solange.

Before Louis could question what was going on, Solange stepped away from him, letting go of his arm, and strode to meet Mr. McGovern. Mr. McGovern whisked her off, practically goose-stepping her back toward the picnic. As he did, Lord Gregory marched to Louis’s side and stood in such a way that Louis was forced to turn away from Solange.

“Is something the matter?” Louis asked. “I haven’t offended anyone’s sensibilities by walking with Miss Solange, have I?”

“Not at all,” Lord Gregory said unconvincingly. “But I must warn you.”

Louis’s brow went up. “Warn me?”

Lord Gregory let out a breath and glanced over his shoulder to Solange and Mr. McGovern’s retreating backs. “Miss Lafarge is—”

He stopped and seemed to struggle for the right word, but Louis reacted as though he’d fired a cannon. Lafarge? He glanced quickly to Solange, then shook his head. It couldn’t be. Lafarge was a common French surname. It had to be coincidence.

“Solange is dangerous,” Lord Gregory went on.

The hair on the back of Louis’s neck stood up. “In what way?”

“She’s just—” Again, Lord Gregory seemed to struggle for words. “Let me just advise you to keep your distance from her.”

Louis frowned, studying the man. Part of him instantly assumed Lord Gregory was interested in Solange for himself. But he knew better. He knew the man’s story, what had happened to him in London years ago and why he was in Paris. After spotting them together at the masquerade ball and later, on the Champs-Élysées, he was willing to venture that Lord Gregory and Mr. McGovern had a particular kind of friendship. So why the concern about Solange?

“I can assure you that my intentions toward Miss Lafarge are pure,” he said with a slight frown.

That only doubled Lord Gregory’s unease. “That may be, but I’m not certain her intentions toward you are.”

Louis could only gape at the man. He had no idea what a statement like that could mean. Was it possible Solange was on the hunt for a husband and thought him a likely candidate?

The idea instantly filled Louis with a warmth and excitement that he couldn’t shake. Any man would be lucky to call a woman like Solange his own. And he would be in the market for a wife soon. He needed someone who would keep him on his toes, someone dangerous, as Lord Gregory suggested she was.

“Thank you for your advice,” he said, thumping Lord Gregory’s back and starting back toward the picnic. “I can assure you that I will keep my wits about me where the lovely Solange is concerned.”

Lord Gregory didn’t look at all pleased by his statement, but Louis wasn’t certain he cared. If the man had intended to warn him off of her, his plan had backfired. He was as enamored of the woman as ever.

“I know what you have in mind, Solange, and you can’t do it,” Damien whispered as he marched Solange back toward the rest of the McGovern clan.

“You do not know what I have in mind,” she snapped in return, every nerve