would be a perfect distraction.
Aimée was already dressed for the evening. Her hair was swept up and studded with amethysts, and she wore a beautiful gown of lavender silk. "How was your day? Did you enjoy posing for the portrait?"
"Well enough, I suppose."
Aimée sat down in a caquetoire, a chair with a trapezoid-shaped seat and arms that bowed out to accommodate her voluminous skirts. Micheline's tone had suggested that she didn't wish to discuss the matter further, and now she appeared totally engrossed in washing her left arm.
Never one to be put off easily, Aimée persisted. "Were you posing for M'sieur Selkirk all day? I didn't see you once after breakfast!"
"He did sketches of me until the sun made the light too harsh," Micheline said carefully. "Then, we, umm—went riding for a while."
Aimée leaned forward in an effort to get a look at her friend's face. "That explains why you both were absent during the midday meal! Did you take a dejeuner?"
Micheline only nodded.
"What fun! You and M'sieur Selkirk would seem to be cultivating a friendship."
"It grows cold in this bath. Would you hand me the towels?"
She spread two on the floor for Micheline to stand on, then delivered the rest. "Why don't you put on a nice warm robe and join me in some wine, cherie? I've a feeling it might do you good."
Micheline obeyed silently, taking a plainer chair that Aimée had moved opposite her own. For a long minute she didn't move, sipping the strong wine and gazing into the fire.
At length Aimée leaned toward her and touched her hand. "I wish that you would tell me what is bothering you. Did that Englishman do something to offend you?" She had a sudden frightening vision of Selkirk forcing himself on Micheline in the woods. Please, God, not that!
Micheline began combing out her damp hair. "Andrew is not dishonorable, if that's what you mean," she said tentatively.
Aimée blinked when she heard her use Selkirk's Christian name. "Something happened. I can sense it! Micheline, you should talk to someone. It will help you to sort out your feelings." She was thinking, too, that they really knew very little about this English painter. Devastating good looks and charm were well enough, but could the man be trusted?
"You needn't be suspicious of him," Micheline said softly. "He has actually been very kind to me. He seems to genuinely like me. We had quite a nice day." She reached for her wine and sipped reflectively. "There's something about him that makes one relax and speak quite freely. He encouraged me to talk while he drew me this morning, which made that much less monotonous, and I found myself telling him all about my past. I felt that he was honestly interested in everything I said."
Aimee was alert. She'd never heard Micheline talk this way before. All the signs were there. Whether Micheline realized it or not, she was infatuated with Andrew Selkirk, and Aimée only prayed that it wasn't love. With an effort she spoke in an even tone.
"Was your ride in the forest as nice as the morning had been?"
"Yes, for the most part. Andrew shares my love for horses, and we had a marvelous time racing across the meadows. Our meal was lovely—he'd stolen all sorts of wonderful things from the kitchens! I can't remember the last time I had so much fun."
Seeing the dreamy look in her eyes, Aimée felt slightly sick. How could this have happened and what could be done about it? "You must tell me the rest, cherie. Something must have gone wrong; I could see it in your face earlier."
"It wasn't his fault. We were riding back to the chateau through the forest. I went ahead since I knew the way, and I suppose I wasn't paying attention. We came around a turn and there was an enormous pile of tree branches. My horse made the jump, but it was all so sudden that I flew off—"
"Parbleu!" Aimée exclaimed. "Are you hurt?"
"No, no. I must have fallen correctly, and the leaves were a cushion. But Andrew rushed to my aid, and he held me against him... and he kissed me."
"I knew it!"
"That's all, though. It was just a kiss. When I asked him to stop, he did."
She caught Micheline's gaze and held it. "And why did you ask him to stop?"
"Well, because it was wrong! I—I'm betrothed to another man!" Her cheeks were flushed with emotion.
"Are you certain there wasn't another reason?" she asked gently.
Micheline