Page 9 of Liaison with the Champagne Count
He was teasing her, she thought, although there was some truth in it. ‘How would you know about English cuisine?’ She ventured a little teasing of her own as she tried to get to know this man her husband had hired to represent him.
He reached for a slice of bread and dipped it into the chowder. ‘When I turned ten, mygrandpèreand my father agreed to send me to school in England. Trust me, English schoolboys have plenty of experience in unseasoned English cuisine,’ he chuckled.
But Emma took the information thoughtfully, trying to imagine Julien Archambeau as a ten-year-old boy sent to England, so far from home. ‘You must have been lonely.’
Julien shrugged. ‘Not entirely. I had myoncle. He stayed on in England for several years after the Terror, after mygrandpèreand father came home. I lived with his family during the holidays, all except summer. There’s no crossing the Channel in the winter.’ He grinned. ‘But summers, I came home.’ She could tell from that grin how much coming home had pleased him.
She found the duality of his life intriguing. ‘What did youroncledo in England?’
‘My family has a small, regional, import-export business that is headquartered out of London.’ He devoured the bread and took another slice.
There were a thousand questions to follow up that peek into his life but she had no chance. The next question was his. ‘Why do you know how to cook? Surely Sir Garrett didn’t expect you to do your own cooking?’
‘My father was a great believer in a person understanding all the aspects of their lives, from finances to housekeeping and cooking. He taught me and my brothers how to manage money, and he insisted we all know how a big house ran.’
She paused here and sipped her wine as his dark brows went up.
‘Yes.’ She smiled at his unspoken query. ‘Even my brothers learned how a household was run, even though they now have wives who handle that for them. As a result of my father’s efforts, though, I am very good at accounting and my brothers understand how to plan a five-course dinner and seating chart for twenty.’ She studied him for a moment, watching this register. He was having some difficulty grasping the idea. ‘Is it toobourgeoisefor you?’ She was not teasing entirely. The French had strong ideas about classes crossing lines.
‘You are a baronet’s wife. These are not the skills of a noblewoman,’ he said consideringly.
‘I was not always.’ She shrugged. ‘My father was not a nobleman nor was he born to a fortune, although by the time I came along, he had acquired his wealth. But he believed it didn’t matter how much money a man had. A manorwoman still needed skills, still needed to understand all the pieces that made his or her lifestyle possible.’ She nodded towards his empty bowl. ‘More?’
‘Yes, please.’ The kitchen had darkened as the evening settled about them. He turned up the wick on the lamp as she refilled their bowls. ‘Do you miss your family?’
‘I do,’ Emma confessed. ‘But we write to one another and I would miss my freedom more. I don’t think a married woman can ever comfortably return to her childhood home after having a house of her own to run. I would always be in my parents’ shadow, always their baby. My mother doesn’t need my help and my father especially is very protective of me, probably because I’m the youngest and a girl.’ And because gin was a rough industry, socially, politically. Her father had valued her input even as he’d thought to shield her from the rougher aspects of his work.
She could see him think about that for a moment as he poured them another glass, white for her and red for him, each bottle more than half-empty. Goodness, had they drunk so much already? Or had they been at the meal that long? The candles were burning low. ‘May I ask what line of work your father is in? I don’t think Sir Garrett ever mentioned it.’
‘Gin,’ she offered smugly, waiting for his reaction. Would he cover his shock with a polite nod and a smile? Would he be outwardly horrified like the ladies and lords of the ton? For a moment she felt as if all her hopes of a new life untainted by her antecedents were held in the balance of his response. Perhaps she’d been wrong to think it could be different here, and yet shedidhope. Gin wasn’t a large French commodity but perhaps he’d lived in England long enough to know about gin and its dubious qualities.
‘I know very little of gin.’ He smiled over his glass. ‘You said it like it’s a bad thing, though.’ His brow knitted. ‘Is it, um, controversial?’
She gave a wry half smile. ‘It’s political. Gin is something of a social contradiction. It’s risen in popularity as a drink among the upper classes and attained a certain level of distinction even as it remains the ruin of the lower classes, although it’s nowhere near what it was a hundred years ago. Gin can be cheap, so all classes can afford it. Some employers even use it as part of paying wages, but again, not as often as before. There was a period of time when gin was effectively banned because it was so damaging to the public.’ She shook her head, ‘But not now. It’s better controlled. England isn’t selling gin in grocery stalls. Now there are gin palaces.’
He raised an eyebrow in speculation. ‘Doesyourfather own a gin palace?’
Perhaps this was where he’d become squeamish, and yet the French were notoriously more liberal about such things than the English. She offered her confession meeting him straight in the eye. ‘Yes, several of them. Many distilleries do, it’s a way to have a guaranteed outlet for the product. My father’s are very high-end, though, almost exclusive, with crystal chandeliers and plush red velvet sofas, and polished walnut bars. They are frequented by the same gentlemen who refuse to acknowledge him in public.’
‘And his family?’ Julien put in.
‘Yes,andhis family. It made my debut tricky to say the least.’
He cocked his head to one side. ‘I am trying to imagine you as a debutante, white gown, blue sash and all. Somehow, you seem too smart for that.’
‘I was. But it made my disappointment sting no less.’ She smiled. ‘I shall take your words as a compliment. And now, I must confess, earlier I was trying to imagineyouas a ten-year-old boy.’
He gave her a mischievous smile. ‘Were you successful?’
‘Somewhat.’ She stared at her wine glass, twirling the stem a bit in her hand. This was nice, talking with him without tension, without wariness. But she needed to be careful. What was she doing, telling a stranger her story? She did not know him well enough, although in this moment she felt that she did. For all of his gruffness, he did have the talent of making someone feel as if they’d known each other far longer. It was the same talent he’d exercised at dinner last night. And they both knew howthathad turned out.
That ought to be cautionary tale enough to curb her tongue. Who knew what he might do with tonight’s information? He might ambush her with it later, or tell others and ruin her chances at a fresh start before she’d even begun. She chose caution and redirected the conversation. ‘You know little about gin and I know very little about wine. I don’t have your nose for it.’ She nodded to the still half-full bottle of red she’d meant to drink with her soup.
‘I just drink what someone else puts before me,but,’ she gave a long pause to emphasise thebut, ‘I do know quite a bit about the marketing and selling of beverages, thanks to my father’s business. I watched him take gin and elevate it. I think it would be quite similar to wine. And...’ again, she gave another long pause for emphasis, giving him a chance to brace himself ‘...I want to learn. I want to know what you know. Not just which wines pair well with which foods, but why, and how to make a good wine, how to grow good grapes.’ There was so much to know, she was nearly breathless with it.
‘Whoa, slow down.’ Archambeau held up a hand. ‘I’ve worked with wine all my life. These are things not learned overnight or even in a few weeks,madame.’
‘I have time,’ she insisted. She would not give him a chance to turn her down or ignore her. ‘While you were gone, I got to know the house. Now that you’re back, I want to know the vineyards.’ She paused. ‘That’s why my husband hired you, isn’t it? Because of your knowledge. Now it’s your turn to teach me, to show me what you showed Garrett.’
