The Lavender Garden by Lucinda Riley Read Free Book Online Page A

group. She had despaired when Emilie had announced she would no longer be a part of the cocktail parties in grand private homes that formed the heart of the event.
    “How can you turn your back on your birthright?” Valérie had asked, outraged.
    “I hate them, Maman. I am more than a surname and a bank account. I’m sorry, but no more.”
    As Emilie looked in the mirror at her full breasts, rounded hips, and shapely legs, she realized she must have lost weight in the last few weeks. What she saw, even to her critical eye, surprised her. Although her bone structure would never allow her to be sylphlike, she was not, by any stretch of the imagination, fat.
    Before she began, as she inevitably would, to pick fault, Emilie removed herself from her reflection, donned her nightshirt, and climbed into bed. Switching off the light and listening to the perfect silence around her, she wondered what had prompted her uncharacteristic naked revelation.
    It had been six years since she’d last had what could loosely be termed a boyfriend. Olivier, an attractive new vet at her Paris practice, had not lasted much longer than a few weeks. She hadn’t even particularly liked him, but at least a warm body beside her at night, someone to talk to occasionally over dinner, had eased the loneliness of her existence. Olivier had eventually disappeared, she knew, through lack of effort on her part.
    Emilie didn’t really know what love was composed of—a mixture of physical attraction, a meeting of minds . . . a fascination , perhaps. But she knew she’d never fallen in love. Besides, who would ever love her ?
    That night, Emilie tossed and turned, feeling her mind might burst with the decisions she must make and the responsibility she couldn’tshirk. But, more than that, her sleep was disturbed by the picture in her mind’s eye of Sebastian.
    Even for the short time he’d been in the château, she’d felt a security in his presence. He seemed capable, solid, and . . . yes, he was very attractive. When his hand had touched hers for an instant in the library, she hadn’t flinched as she normally did when somebody invaded her personal space.
    Emilie chastised herself. How sad and lonely she must be that a man she’d met by chance for no longer than a couple of hours had affected her like this. Besides, why on earth would a man as seemingly accomplished and handsome as Sebastian look at her twice? He was out of her league, and the chances were she’d never come across him again. Unless, of course, she called the number on the card he’d given her and asked for his help with valuing of the Matisse. . . .
    Emilie shook her head grimly, knowing she’d never gather the courage to do that.
    It was a road to nowhere. She’d decided years ago that life was best lived alone. Then no one could hurt her or let her down again. And with that thought lodged firmly in her brain, Emilie finally drifted off to sleep.

4
    D ue to her disturbed night, Emilie woke late the next morning and over coffee wrote down a never-ending list of things “to do.” Then she started a fresh sheet of paper with the questions she needed to ask of herself. At the beginning of this process, all she’d wanted was to sell both houses as quickly as possible, sort out the complexities of her family estate, and return to her safe life in Paris. But now . . .
    Emilie rubbed her nose with the pencil and stared around the kitchen for guidance. The house in Paris she would sell—it did not hold good memories for her. However, the past few days had altered her thoughts about the château. Not only was it the original family “seat”—built by Comte Louis de la Martinières in 1750—but it had an atmosphere she’d always loved. It calmed her, reminded her of happy days here with her father.
    Should she consider keeping it?
    Emilie stood up and wandered about the kitchen, mulling the thought over in her mind. Wasn’t it ridiculous, not to mention obscene, for