Page 22 of The Paris Trip

No wonder Liselle was looking so unhappy.

Fleetingly, she wondered why Leo had stopped painting Liselle, if she’d been his long-term model before his brother’s death. Though that was none of her business, of course.

Knitting her hands together in her lap, she smiled round at him and tried to suppress her curiosity. She was a stranger to these people, and she certainly had no intention of becoming his model, despite Nonna’s repeated urgings, so it would be best simply to stay out of it.

‘Yes, Paris is stifling today,’ Leo agreed calmly. ‘And you really shouldn’t gossip on such a hot day when all the windows are standing open,’ he added, a distinct edge to his voice.

Tilting his head, he indicated the château above them. Maeve looked up along with the others, and realised guiltily that some windows were either ajar or fully open, with others shuttered but no doubt with the windows thrown wide behind them, meaning their voices would easily have carried in this still, sunny air to the upper storeys.

‘Unless, that is, you want the subject of your gossip to hear everything you’re saying,’ he finished.

With a furious narrowing of her eyes, Liselle flounced back into the château. As much as anyone could flounce wearing clogs.

‘Oh dear,’ Maeve said.

‘Oh dear, indeed,’ Leo agreed, and looked down at her, one dark brow high and crooked.

Was he blaming her for their gossiping? That seemed unfair. Though since she had just been blaming herself, maybe the lady did in fact protest too much, as the saying went…

‘Coffee?’ Madame Rémy asked her politely.

‘Oh, em, yes please,’ Maeve gushed, jumping up to accept a cup of coffee from her.

She didn’t much like their strong, sludgy black coffee – which never came with milk except at breakfast time, it seemed – and had originally intended to drink something cool and refreshing. But it gave her an excuse to break free from the hypnotic stare of Leo Rémy without looking like a coward, as she suspected his grandmother had realised.

Goodness though, if there was ever an Olympic staring contest, her host could successfully compete for France. And win gold!

‘However,’ Leo drawled in a voice like melted chocolate, so close to her ear that she jerked away, startled, and spilt her coffee into her saucer, ‘I couldn’t help overhearing Nonna’s excellent suggestion.’

She had almost backed away into an urn of bright, tumbling geraniums. Their thick fragrance was intoxicating. ‘You… You couldn’t?’ Maeve turned her gaze on the old lady, who at once bent her head industriously over her knitting, and then looked back at him warily. ‘Which, erm, part?’

‘It’s true that I’ve been looking for a new model for the past year or so. Someone to sit for me… Liselle won’t mind me saying this, I’m sure, but she no longer suits me as a sitter. If you always use the same model, your work becomes a bit… ‘

‘Samey?’

His mouth twitched but he shrugged. ‘All right, yes, we can say that if you like. Samey.’ He helped himself to a tall glass of something citrus-smelling, a pale yellow drink poured over ice, with a sprinkle of tiny blue flowers bobbing about in it. ‘I haven’t been able to decide which new direction I want to take, artistically speaking. So I’ve been considering my options.’ He threw an ironic look at his grandmother. ‘No doubt the long delay has caused some to wrongly view me as… What was the word, Grandmère? Broken?’

‘I didn’t know you were listening,’ Madame Rémy said, her brows drawn together, chagrin in her face.

‘I am not broken.’ He hesitated. ‘Just… conflicted, perhaps.’

‘Of course,’ his grandmother agreed.

Leo sipped his drink and gazed at Maeve over the rim of his glass. ‘When I saw you in the street yesterday – ‘

‘You mean, when I was unconscious?’ she demanded.

He blinked. ‘Yes, but afterwards too.’ He cleared his throat. ‘When I saw you, it was a significant moment. I experienced a kind of…’

‘Seizure?’

‘Epiphany.’

‘Isn’t that a religious thing?’

‘Maybe a little.’ His smile was dry. ‘I just mean I got some ideas about a potential new direction for my work.’

‘Okay,’ she said slowly, worried about where this was leading.

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