Dancing on a Rainbow Read online

  Loretta clapped her hands together.

  “Ingrid, you are a genius! I can understand the complexities of the situation and I will make it very clear to Monsieur Casanova that I do not find him attractive as a man and I am only being polite because he is your guest.”

  “That is exactly what you have to do and promise me, promise me faithfully, Loretta, that you will not be beguiled by Fabian! I warn you he is a Pied Piper where women are concerned and, whatever tune he plays, they follow him!”

  “Don’t worry!” Loretta said. “I shall be thinking all the time that if he marries me, as Papa intends, I shall be sitting alone in some dismal château in France where I know nobody, while my husband is pursuing the beautiful women of Paris.”

  “That is exactly what he will do. So don’t listen to the delightful things he will say to you. Don’t be deceived by his flattery, which can be very eloquent, and remember that everything he says to you he has said a hundred times before to hundreds of stupid enamoured women who are now weeping their eyes out because he is no longer interested in them.”

  “He sounds abominable!” Loretta cried. “Don’t worry about me, Ingrid. Forewarned is forearmed and I think my Guardian Angel must have told me to come to you after Papa made it absolutely clear that I had no choice but to marry the Marquis .”

  “Egged on, of course, by the Duc! ” Ingrid added. “But don’t forget that the Marquis is enamoured of Madame Julie St. Gervaise.”

  “Is that the name of the lady he might marry?”

  “I said it was possible for him to do so, but if you ask me, I think Fabian has made up his mind never to marry again and he will fight desperately to keep his freedom.”

  “I hope you are right, in which case it will be easier for me.”

  “Yes, of course,” Ingrid agreed, “but you must not count on it. You have to play the part very skilfully and to remember that because you are here in this house he will think perhaps you are – ”

  She paused for a moment, then obviously changing what she had been about to say, went on,

  “ – not as respectable as our – relatives.”

  Loretta was not quite certain what she meant, but said,

  “I will behave in exactly the same way as Aunt Edith used to do when she disapproved of something you had said when you stayed with us at home.”

  Ingrid burst out laughing.

  “I remember how she was continually telling your father I was a bad influence on you and, of course, predicted to all and sundry that I would come to a sticky end! Which I am sure she is still saying in Heaven or wherever she may be!”

  Because it sounded so funny Loretta laughed too.

  They were both still reminiscing over their relatives when the Earl sent a message to say that Ingrid should come downstairs because her guests would soon be arriving.

  “Is it a – big party?” Loretta asked a little nervously.

  “No, only half a dozen men.”

  “Only men?” Loretta questioned. “I did not see any women at your party last night.”

  Ingrid looked at her in a rather strange way.

  “Surely you understand why?”

  Loretta shook her head.

  “Then let me explain that as far as women or rather what you and I call ‘Ladies’ are concerned, I am beyond the pale – a scarlet woman whom they pass by with their heads averted in case I should contaminate them.”

  She drew in her breath and continued,

  “But because I want Hugh to be happy, I have deliberately encouraged the most interesting, intelligent men in Paris to come here for parties and small luncheons, like we are having today.”

  She looked at Loretta to see if she understood and went on,

  “Hugh is a very intelligent man and I have made sure by providing his friends, whoever they may be, with the best food and drink and by keeping the conversation on a very high intellectual level, that we now have, although it seems incredible, what the French call a salon.”

  “It sounds fascinating,” Loretta added.

  “Some artists and musicians are among those who are welcome,” Ingrid went on, “and occasionally, just occasionally, we have women guests who themselves are not accepted by the more particular French hostesses, but who are talented and have exceptional personalities of their own.”

  She paused and said with a smile,

  “Otherwise our guests are always male and I find it fascinating and intriguing to entertain men who hold important posts in the Government or who are famed in some field or another for the brilliance of their intellect.”

  “I think it’s wonderful!” Loretta exclaimed. “Now I understand why the Earl will never leave you, however many years it may be before you can be married.”

  “That is what I pray for every night of my life,” Ingrid said simply. “I love Hugh, I would die for him, but, what is more difficult, I am determined his life shall be so happy that he will never have even one regret.”

  “I am sure that is what you are achieving,” Loretta sighed and kissed Ingrid.

  Ingrid, after a quick look at herself in the mirror, hurried downstairs.

  “Wait exactly ten minutes,” she said, “then come to the silver salon, which is where we are meeting before luncheon. The servants in the hall will tell you where it is.”

  Loretta smiled at her.

  “Are you suggesting I make an entrance?” she asked.

  “Of course!” Ingrid replied. “I want to make sure you are the sensation you will be and that all the gentlemen present will be bowled over by your beauty.”

  “Now you are frightening me.”

  “Enjoy your compliments, but remember, Fabian is dangerous!”

  As her cousin walked towards the door, Loretta said,

  “Thank you, darling Ingrid, and I do hope I shall not let you down.”

  “Just keep thinking of those two old gentlemen plotting together to marry their children off, whether they like it or not, and I am sure you will have no difficulty in playing your part very plausibly.”

  Then, she smiled at her and left the room, leaving Loretta alone.

  She went to the mantelpiece to look at herself in the mirror that hung above it.

  For the moment all she could see was her own eyes wide and a little frightened.

  Then, as she took in the elaborate new coiffure that Ingrid’s maid had given her and she saw how the Paris gown she was wearing accentuated the curves of her breasts and made her waist seem impossibly tiny, she told herself firmly,

  “I am English, cold, disdainful, very suspicious of men and especially of Frenchmen!”

  It was then that she remembered with an exclamation of horror that, although she and Ingrid had talked so much, they had not decided what her name should be.

  She was just wondering desperately what she could do about it, when the door opened and a footman crossed the room to hand her a note resting on a silver salver.

  She took it from him and knew, just as she had suddenly realised that vital omission in their plans, so Ingrid had realised it too.

  As she took the note in her hand, she saw that it was addressed to, Lady Brompton and, opening the envelope, she saw one word was written on a piece of paper – Lora.

  The footman left the room and Loretta smiled to herself.

  ‘That is a clever name, very English, quite ordinary. Not at all the sort of name which would immediately make anyone, especially a foreigner, connect it with anyone of importance,’ she told herself.

  ‘I am Lady Brompton!’ Loretta informed her reflection in the mirror and knew, as she glanced at the hands of the marble clock facing her, that it was time to go downstairs.

  A footman was waiting for her in the hall and, when she asked him to take her to the silver salon, he went ahead of her to open a door.

  For a moment, as Loretta entered the room she had not seen before, everything seemed to swim in front of her.

  Then she saw Ingrid, looking like a flower as she stood
surrounded by the gentlemen in their dark clothes and walked slowly across the Aubusson carpet towards her.

  For a moment it seemed as if Ingrid had not noticed her.

  Then, giving her a cry of delight, she said,

  “Good morning, dearest! I do hope you had a good night!”

  “I slept peacefully,” Loretta replied, “but I am rather late I am afraid.”

  “You are punctual for luncheon, which is all that matters,” Ingrid remarked, “and now I must introduce you to my guests.”

  “I think first,” the Earl interrupted, “Lady Brompton should have a glass of champagne to sweep away the cobwebs of her journey.”

  There was a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke and Loretta was aware that Ingrid had rehearsed him also as to how he was to behave and who she was supposed to be.

  “May I say how charming your house is.” Loretta said conversationally as she took the glass of champagne from the Earl’s hand. “I was too tired last night to take everything in, but now I see that you have a collection of treasures I am longing to examine more closely.”

  “You shall see them all,” the Earl promised.

  Then Ingrid was saying,

  “Let me introduce to you le Comte – ”

  Because Loretta, despite what she thought was an excellent piece of acting, was really feeling rather frightened, she did not hear the names of the gentlemen in the room she was introduced to one after the other, until finally Ingrid said,

  “The Marquis de Sauerdun! And let me warn you not to believe a single word he says!”

  “I never expected you would be so unkind to me!” a deep voice replied.

  There was a touch of amusement in it, as if he knew perceptively that Ingrid had some reason for what she had just said.

  Loretta lifted her eyes to the Marquis , as perfunctorily he raised her hand to his lips.

  She did not know exactly what she had expected, but certainly not a man who looked so unusual and yet at the same time so compellingly handsome and masculine.

  Now she could understand exactly what Ingrid had been trying to explain to her.

  It was difficult to describe, even to herself, why he seemed different from every other man in the room.

  There was something raffish about him, there was something, too, that made him seem overwhelming and in some strange way dominating, as if he was a God who had stepped down from another world to mix with humans.

  Then she knew, as he looked into her eyes, that she was conscious of the strength of his fingers as he held her hand and a magnetic vibration that seemed to link her to him and made her afraid.

  For a moment she could only stare at him.

  Then, with what demanded almost a superhuman effort, she looked away.

  The Marquis said softly,

  “I am enchanted, madame , and I have a feeling which I cannot explain that this is an important moment in my life!”

  Loretta drew in her breath.

  Taking her hand away from his, she managed to say in what she hoped was a cold, rather aloof voice,

  “It is important to me, monsieur , because this is the first time I have been to Paris and everything in consequence will, I am sure, be very memorable.”

  She wanted to move away as she finished speaking, but somehow, because Ingrid had taken her through the other guests to meet the Marquis last, she felt as if they were isolated together and everybody else had receded into the background.

  “Your first time in Paris!” the Marquis repeated. “Then, naturally, you must allow me to make sure it is a milestone in your life and completely unforgettable.”

  They were speaking in French and, because his voice was so deep and resonant, it made Loretta feel as if they spoke to music.

  Then, as she turned her eyes away from his, he said quietly,

  “You are very beautiful, more beautiful than I imagined anyone could be!”

  For a moment Loretta was beguiled by his words, the tone of his voice and the strange magnetism that was still holding her as if she was his captive.

  Then with an effort she managed to reply,

  “I wonder, monsieur , to how many women you have said those very words and how many have been foolish enough to believe you?”

  The Marquis laughed and it was a very spontaneous sound.

  “I might have guessed that Ingrid has been warning you against me,” he said. “All I can say is that I hope you will be just kind enough to believe that I am innocent until proved guilty.”

  “From all I have heard, monsieur , although, of course, I may be wrong, there is plenty of proof, as you call it, and many witnesses to it.”

  She thought as she spoke that she was being rather daring, but after all they were speaking in French.

  What she was saying did not sound half so rude as it would have done had they been speaking in English.

  “Do you really listen to gossip, which in most instances comes either from the gutter or from those who are envious of other people’s pleasures?”

  “‘Pleasure’ is a difficult word to define,” Loretta replied. “To some it may mean joy and laughter, to others it may mean a fleeting amusement which so often leaves those who have taken part in it hurt and unhappy!”

  “I know exactly what you are saying to me, Lady Brompton,” the Marquis said, “and I know only too well the type of tale with which you have been regaled. I am suggesting that, as a newcomer to Paris, you should enjoy the present while you are here and remember that the past does not concern you.”

  He spoke, as it seemed, quite seriously and Loretta looked at him in surprise, intending to say something a little scathing and, as Ingrid had instructed her, to appear cold, aloof and if possible shocked by him.

  Instead, as their eyes met again, she found herself not only tongue-tied, but in a way she could not explain, and quivering a little because of the expression in his eyes.

  Then he said in a low voice,

  “Although you may not be aware of it, you have offered me a challenge and one that I cannot possibly resist.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Loretta replied.

  “I think you do,” he answered, “and because I intend to show you Paris and to prove to you that you are wrong, all I wish to know is when you will allow me to escort you?”

  Chapter Four

  The Marquis called for Loretta at eight o’clock and, although she had a feeling that she was being foolish, she was waiting extremely excitedly for him to take her out to dinner.

  When Ingrid heard that he had invited her, she exclaimed,

  “I thought that he was being very attentive at luncheon, but are you really wise to go on with this masquerade? After all, you have now seen him and you know what he is like. Surely that is enough?”

  Loretta knew as she spoke that her cousin was very apprehensive.

  Having seen the Marquis , she could now understand so much better than she had before why Ingrid was worried about her.

  At luncheon she had, as the only other lady present, been seated on the Earl’s right, and since Fabian de Sauerdun was on his left, she was facing him across the table.

  As she sat down, she was very conscious that one of the factors that made him so different from other men was that there appeared to be an expression of laughter in his eyes, as if he found the world an amusing place.

  But the twist of his lips told her too that he was mocking it.

  She found it hard not to stare at him and turned to the gentleman on her other side, who she learned as luncheon continued was the Comte Eugene de Marais.

  He was a little older, perhaps nearing forty and he immediately flirted with her in exactly the way she expected.

  Creating in everything he said an innuendo and paying her compliments so extravagant that, instead of feeling shy, she was merely amused by them.

  At the same time she was aware that the conversation all round the table was exceedingly interesting and she was pleased that she could understand nearly everyth
ing the gentlemen were discussing.

  Her father, although he seldom listened to anyone, was an intelligent man and had a habit of discussing and criticising at mealtimes what had appeared in the newspapers that morning.

  Loretta therefore had a comprehension of the political situation in France – of the scandal that had just caused the fall of the Prime Minister Rouvier and the resignation of the President Jules Grevy, when it was found that his son-in-law had been trafficking in decorations and particularly in the much covered Legion d’Honneur.

  Because she was able to join in and make intelligent comments on what was being debated, she thought that Ingrid looked at her with approval.

  Yet she was surprised when the Marquis said across the table,

  “Is it possible that you are clever as well as beautiful? It is unfair for a mere man to have to cope with such a combination!”

  Loretta laughed.

  Then she said,

  “As you are well aware, monsieur , I am only a humble pupil sitting at the feet of the great Masters.”

  “I am sure any gentleman here would be flattered to hear himself described in such a manner,” the Marquis said mockingly.

  But Loretta was following her own thoughts and she added,

  “It must be the way that the Ancient Greeks talked amongst themselves and in consequence taught the civilised world to think.”

  The Marquis looked at her for further explanation and then he exclaimed,

  “Of course! Now I know what was eluding me when I first saw you. It is that you are a Greek, not from Athens, but rather from Mount Olympus!”

  Loretta wanted to laugh because she was sure he must have said this before to many women, for it sounded as if it came too easily to his lips.

  And yet there did seem sincerity about him, though she told herself scornfully that it was all part of the act.

  Remembering how Ingrid had told her to behave, she tried to look at him coldly and, without answering what he said, she started to talk to the Earl about the fear of a revolution on which her father had been very eloquent.

  “I think it unlikely that anything quite so explosive will happen,” the Earl said. “France is growing more prosperous and more bourgeois and there is much less poverty than there was in the past.”