Page 31 of To Love A Spy
“What?” he murmured.
“Nothing. It’s just that . . .” She pulled a face. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a man pick out something so frivolous as a fan for me.”
“Surely you’ve received gifts from the opposite sex.”
“Flowers. The occasional box of sweetmeats.” Her lips twitched in amusement. “And Jeb Gervin gives me a jugged hare every Christmas.”
Dead rabbits?Lynsley reversed direction in mid-step. “Come, let us stroll down the street a bit before returning to the carriage. The shops along the rue de Rivoli are said to be quite chic.”
“Bosh,” she huffed under her breath. “I’ve seen quite enough fancy fripperies.”
But despite her reluctance, Valencia was soon perusing the various windows displays with undisguised enjoyment. “Look at the exquisite workmanship,” she exclaimed, leaning in to study a toy troop of mounted Hussars. “Every detail is authentic, right down to the red braid and forest green color of their coats.”
Most ladies of his acquaintance would not be waxing enthusiastic over painted lead soldiers. But instead of smiling, Lynsley suddenly felt as if his chest were circled in steel. Because ofhisAcademy, war was a way of life for the Merlins. Valencia had been allowed precious little chance to enjoy the softer side of being a woman.
Before she could object, Lynsley turned abruptly and marched her through the door of the adjoining jewelry shop. A bell tinkled discreetly, its muted tone echoed by the rich black velvet lining the glass cases. In contrast, the sparkling gemstones and polished gold gleamed with a hard-edged brilliance.
He heard Valencia suck in her breath.
“We must keep up appearances,” he murmured. “As the wife of a distinguished diplomat, you will be expected to display a suitable reflection of his wealth and prestige.”
“But—”
He pointed to a double strand necklace of pearls highlighted by a teardrop emerald pendant. “We will see that,” he announced in a loud voice to the sales clerk who was hovering close by.
“With pleasure, monsieur.” The man presented the piece with a low bow.
Removing his gloves, the marquess unfastened the clasp. “Bend your head, my dear.” The gold was cool and smooth against his fingers, yet heat prickled through him as he touched the downy wisps of hair at the nape of her neck.
She shivered.
“Now turn around. Ah, as I thought—it matches your eyes to perfection.” Lynsley held up a looking glass. “Do you like it?”
“I—I . . .” Valencia fingered her throat.
“We will take it.” He indicated a pair of matching pearl and emerald ear bobs. “Those as well.”
“Don’t be absurd!” she hissed in his ear. “Good Lord, they are far too expensive!”
“I can afford it.” He paid for the purchases and tucked the beribboned package into his pocket.
“Don’t worry, I shall return them to you as soon as we return home,” she muttered they returned to the street. “You may then give them to acher amie, so that your blunt won’t have been entirely wasted.”
The hell he would.
A sigh trailed after her words. “Surely we are finished for the day.”
“Not quite.” A small sign, handpainted in pastel colors, marked the tiny shop next door as aparfumerie. As Lynsleyled the way inside, he was enveloped in a heady swirl of scents, ranging from light florals to lush spices. The effect was enticing, intoxicating.
Sheer silk draperies filtered the sunlight, giving the vast assortment of vials and bottles a hazy, painterly cast. Pale golds blended into topaz yellows, lavenders deepened to amethyst purples.
“Bonjour.” The proprietress emerged from a tiny store room. With her chestnut hair, brick red gown and olive skin, she reminded the marquess of amarron glace—a sugared sweetmeat. The impression was heightened by the woman’s Mediterranean accent. Her words had the syrupy softness of the south of France. “I am Mademoiselle Aix, owner of this establishment. Are you looking for something special?”
“Yes,” replied Lynsley. “Something unique for the lady.” Ignoring Valencia’s soft snort, he went on. “Something individual—something that is made for her and her alone.”
“Ah,oui. A fragrance so distinct that even in utter darkness a man would recognize her by scent alone.”
He nodded. The woman had grasped the essence of his meaning.
