Fleur De Lies by Maddy Hunter Read Free Book Online Page B

was a fowl. More likely it was an eagle. A screaming eagle … which just happens to be the emblem of the 101st Air borne Infantry.” She regarded Osmond with a look bordering on awe. “You belonged to the 101st?”
    He gave his head a nod. “Yup. I was one of the fellas who wore a screaming chee-ken on his shoulder sleeve.” He smiled impishly and squeezed Solange’s hand as he sidled a glance at her.
    “When he’s very naughty and pokes fun of my accent, I ignore him,” she announced, nose in the air, head tilted at a coy angle, gaze averted, as if she were a young ingénue fending off a suitor whose advances she desperately wanted. And in that instant I could see them as they might have been decades ago, snatching moments of intimate pleasure from a secret look, a shared touch, in a world that had gone completely mad.
    “The 101st Airborne was only the most celebrated, the most illus trious, the most battle-hardened division in the entire army,” chattered Tilly. “They led the charge on D-Day. They held the line at the Battle of the Bulge. They—”
    “Grandmama?” Madeleine came up behind Solange and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Monsieur Osmond must leave us now. His coach is waiting outside.”
    “Leave? But he just arrived.”
    “Thank you for your hospitality.” Virginia Martin bobbed her head at Madeleine as she guided her husband past the sofa. “I’m sure you did the best you could under the circumstances.”
    Victor halted his steps and jerked his hand away from his wife’s arm, irritation causing his facial muscles to grow rigid. “My dear young woman”—he shuffled his feet slightly to face Madeleine—“I’ve heard rumors that my wife was once an engaging and gracious creature, but I’ve never had the good fortune of bearing witness to it myself. You are beautiful and kind, and I thank you for opening your home to us.” He tipped his head politely and shifted his gaze to Solange. “And Mrs. Ducat, permit me to say that you are as lovely today as you were—”
    He paused suddenly, as if his brain realized what was about to come out of his mouth and closed his windpipe to avoid disaster. He stiffened with panic for a brief second before he assumed a calmer demeanor, his brain and mouth apparently on the same page again. “You’re as lovely today as I imagine you were when Mr. Chelsvig first met you.” He inhaled a deep, wheezy breath. “Your eyes are quite haunting, my dear. A man could never forget a woman with your eyes.”
    Virginia elevated her hand to admire the jewels bedecking her fingers. “Do you know the only thing worse than a fool, Victor?”
    “I expect you’re about to tell me.”
    “An old fool.”
    He pivoted slowly toward her. His voice became gruff. “Help me out to the bus.”
    “Thanks for everything, Madeleine.” Cal offered a brief valedictory wave. “I’m going to pick up some of that Calvados. Good stuff!”
    Taking my cue from Cal, I stood up. “I guess we should be leaving, too. Don’t want to keep the coach driver waiting.”
    “ Non .” Solange clutched Osmond’s hand. “Not yet. There’s … there’s much I should tell you.”
    Woody Jolly maneuvered around my chair to sketch a valiant, if arthritic, bow before the sofa. “Ladies, thank you for the conversation and refreshments. The obnoxious drunk I could have done without.” He extended his hand, palm up, to Solange. “May I?”
    After a moment’s hesitation, Solange placed her palm atop his, smiling shyly when he pressed his lips to the back of her hand.
    “I don’t know if that’s the way you French do it,” he blurted out with enthusiasm, “but it sure works for me. I’ve wanted to do that all my life. ‘Course, if I tried it with a woman in the States, I’d get my face slapped.”
    He released her hand but continued to linger, apparently not at all worried that his dawdling might earn him the dreaded status of last person on the bus. “You’re such a