The Seducer by Madeline Hunter Read Free Book Online Page A

course. The Bible.”
    He seemed to withdraw, as if mention of the only thing that she had brought with her to France had opened a door that he wanted to keep closed.
    She forged on. This was the only chance that she had gotten in two weeks to ask her questions. “How did it happen, m’sieur? How did you come to bring me to France? You say you are not a relative to me.”
    She did not get her answer. Just as she finished speaking, Paul appeared with Jeanette in his arms, and Daniel deliberately turned his attention to his sister.
    Paul settled Jeanette into a chair and prepared a plate for his mistress.
    “You will be happy to know that soon we will get Diane out of those hideous sacks. Her final fitting is today,” Jeanette said.
    Paul placed the plate in front of her. “Unfortunately, mademoiselle, we will have to delay this excursion. M’sieur has requested that I do an errand for him,” he explained.
    Jeanette shot her brother a sharp glance. “Well, it can wait until another day.”
    “That is not necessary,” Daniel said. “I have no plans for the afternoon. I will accompany you.”
    No one seemed surprised by the suggestion. Evidently, Daniel carried his sister about the city on occasion.
    Jeanette turned from her meal. “Your hair, Diane. Go and have it done so that we can see how the gowns will properly look.”
    Diane had forgotten about her hair. She excused herself.
    Daniel rose and joined her. They strolled along the corridor toward the grand staircase. “My sister is too strict. You hair looks charming like that.”
    Her heart fluttered at the compliment, gallant lie though it was.
    “We will speak English henceforth so that you grow accustomed to it again. You will need that when you go to London,” he said, slipping into the tongue of her dreams.
    She was glad for evidence that the journey to London had not been forgotten. “When I said that I dreamed in English, you seemed to understand. Do you dream in French?”
    “Not always. However, there are other times when my thoughts are only French.”
    “Which ones?”
    They had reached one of the doors off the corridor, and he stopped. “When I am in danger. Only French comes to me then.”
    The calm mention of danger stunned her. He spoke as if it were a common occurrence.
    He opened the door. She caught a glimpse of a man’s study.
    An amused, reflective expression entered his eyes. “And when I make love. Now that I think of it, I always do that in French.”
             
    “Too much lace, Jeanette. Have them remove the froth at the hem.”
    “If you keep this up, Daniel, it will be another week before she can leave the house in the evening.”
    Diane stood on display in the modiste’s sitting room in the Palais Royale, decked out in dark violet silk. She might have enjoyed the sibling warmth their bickering revealed, if she had not been the doll over which they fought.
    That was what she felt like. A doll being dressed. Not a fine one with porcelain face and hands as befitted these gowns, but a simple cloth doll who would never look quite right in them.
    Daniel seemed to understand that better than Jeanette. The sister’s own tastes tended toward the dramatic, and the designs had been commissioned accordingly. Now Daniel was demanding that they all be pared of half their embellishments.
    He stood at the window of the upper level sitting room, his sculpted face looking very handsome in the diffused northern light. He contented himself most of the time with gazing out at the activity below in the gardens. Each time she emerged from the modiste’s back chamber in a new ensemble he would glance, take it in, take
her
in, and issue his order as he returned his attention to the passing city.
    He looked again, since his sister had resisted. “I doubt that it will take the women long to remove it. It can be delivered in a day or so. Isn’t that correct, madame?”
    The modiste quickly concurred. Daniel’s presence had turned the proud