Page 34 of To Love A Spy
She must trust that she knew them by heart.
“Ah, Monsieur Dagget! There you are!” Levalier made his way through the crowd, accompanied by another man.
“And this must be your wife.” Inclining a flourishing bow, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Enchante, madame. Your husband’s praise did not do you justice.”
“Merci, monsieur,” she answered.
“Allow me to introduce Mr. Levalier, my dear,” said Lynsley. “He is the gentleman with whom I am to negotiate a trade agreement for our country.”
“La, do not allow your talks to gotoosmoothly, monsieur.” she said with a coy smile. “I am hoping for a long stay here in Paris.”
“Bon!” He turned to his companion and winked. “You heard the lady, Jean-Michel. We must make things just a little hard on her husband.”
Lynsley’s lips took on a sardonic curl. “You must be Noilly, from the Maritime Ministry,” he said brusquely. “Have we set a time to meet?”
“All business and no pleasure, Monsieur Daggett?” Levalier exaggerated a sigh. “Come, you are in Paris, sir. It would be a shame not to sample some of its sumptuous delights.”
“Really, Thomas. Mr. Levalier is right,” said Valencia. It was the first time she had used his given name, but it came out smoothly enough. “You must learn to relax and show some . . .joie de vivre.”
“Precisely, madame. I see you already understand the Gallic spirit.”
“You speak our language as well?” asked Noilly.
“Just a little schoolgirl French,” she replied. “But I look forward to learning much more while I am here.”
“Your accent is delightful, and as for your vocabulary, I am sure we can see to it that your knowledge of our language is greatly expanded. Indeed . . .” Levalier offered her his arm. “While Noilly discusses the schedule of talks with your husband, allow me to begin introducing you to our circle of friends.”
“Why, thank you.” She set her glove on his sleeve. “I would like that very much.”
Lynsley drained his glass. “See that you don’t lead my wife astray, Levalier.”
What a consummate actor, thought Valencia. His voice held an edge of possessiveness.
The minister made a face, a gesture she didn’t miss.
“A jealous husband?” he asked. Softly as they moved away
She shrugged. “He may be American but he has very English notions about how a wife should behave.”
Levalier chuckled. “AndLes Anglaisecan be so very strict about such things.”
“True,” she replied. “They tend to have no sense of adventure.”
His eyes took on a speculative gleam.
Deciding not to push her flirtations too far, Valencia quickly changed the subject. “How is it that Parisians always appear so fashionable?”
“Perhaps it is because we have a flair for the dramatic.” He laughed. “Even during the tumultuous days of the Revolution, before Napoleon took command, Paris was always on the cutting edge of style.”
She raised a brow.
“Take, for example, the styles during the days when theDirectoireswere in change. They were quite outrageous,” said Levalier. “Vestal dresses, high waisted Minerva tunics, curled wigs in every color of the rainbow—purple was a particular favorite of Therese Tallien. Some of the ladies wore fabrics sotransparent that nothing was left to the imagination. Many went barefoot, with golden rings flashing on each of their toes.”
“Surely you exaggerate.”
“Mais non,I assure you I don’t.” He led her along the colonnaded length of the ballroom and paused beneath one of the arches. “Our former empress, Josephine, and her friends Therese Tallien and Juliette Recamier were legendary for their daring sense of dress. Indeed, one evening Madame Tallien wagered a man that her entire outfit, including her bracelets and boots, weighed less than two six-franc gold coins.”
“And how did they resolve the bet?” asked Valencia. “There would appear to be some difficulties in coming to an accurate measure.”
