Page 10 of Daughters of Paris

He gave her a wry grin. ‘I don’t think they would want me. I have a weak chest and am as good as blind without these glasses.’

‘We would have to be desperate if we were relying on Sébastien,’ Pierre said. ‘He is a philosopher and a thinker, not a man of action.’

‘A lover not a fighter,’ purred Yvette, a woman who occasionally joined them, to general laughter.

Fleur glanced sidelong at Sébastien. She wondered if Yvette spoke from personal experience and a throb of envy deep in her chest cavity caught her unawares. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Sébastien had fine lips and delicate features, with a straight, narrow nose that resulted in his thick glasses constantly slipping down. It was quite an appealing look.

‘Now is the time to start a newspaper,’ Pierre declared, tossing his drink back. ‘We who are articulate and young need to be heard. We have ideas.’

‘If you mean your poems, I don’t think they will inspire an army,’ Daniel said, hooting with laughter.

Pierre threw a balled-up serviette at him.

‘You have no printing press,’ Brendan pointed out.

Sébastien shrugged. A light had come into his eyes that made them gleam. ‘Then we’ll buy blocks and print by hand. A single sheet at a time if necessary. Start small. Fleur, you write, I know. Would you write for us?’

Fleur almost choked on her mouthful of brioche. She wrote stories and her thoughts about books she read, but she had never shared them with another person. She’d only confided in Sébastien because they had been laughing about childhood diaries and she had wanted to show him they had something in common.

‘What could I write about?’

‘Anything you feel people should know,’ Pierre said. ‘The conditions for workers, perhaps. How the preparations for war are affecting morale in the upper classes. I bet they are only concerned they won’t be able to get fresh oysters flown in from the coast.’

‘I think you’re a little confused. I don’t live with royalty,’ Fleur retorted, which earned a wink from Sébastien that set her cheeks flaming with pride. She loved that he found her amusing.

‘I’ll have a think and if I come up with anything I’ll tell you,’ she promised Pierre. With no printing press or firm idea of how to go about starting a newspaper, she doubted it would come to pass.

Wind and rain lashed at the bright-striped canopies outside the cafés as they emptied. Fleur shivered as she left Café Morlaix and pulled her collar up, wishing she had brought an umbrella. She picked her way through the puddles, trying her best not to slip on the smooth paving slabs.

‘Wait a moment, Fleur.’

She looked over her shoulder to see Pierre waving and stopped.

‘All this talk of war gets the blood racing. We might be blown up before the month is finished,’ he murmured. He grasped her by the hand and pulled her into a kiss.

Fleur was too dazed to resist and when it became clear she was not going to be released immediately, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensation. Pierre’s lips were full and his chin and cheeks stubbly, grazing her skin like sandpaper. It was quite pleasant in some ways. Cautiously she put her hands on his shoulders, knowing that this was giving tacit approval and moved her lips in a vague attempt to match his. Pierre stopped kissing her then and raised his brows.

‘Was that the first time anyone has done that to you?’

She nodded, slightly taken aback and unsure whether admitting it would lessen her in his eyes.

‘Ah.’ He reached out and dabbed a fingertip on the end of her nose. ‘Sorry,ma belle, I didn’t realise. Were you hoping to hold out for Sébastien?’

‘No!’ Fleur exclaimed. Her insides shrivelled with embarrassment. Was she so easy to read?

Pierre’s face twisted into an amused grin. ‘There is no need to look so shocked. No one would blame you if you were. In fact, half of us would turn green with envy. He is a complete dream after all.’

Fleur’s eyes widened even further as the implication sunk in. Pierre’s grin widened.

‘Don’t be so shocked, little innocent. Yes, people have done that for centuries. Why, half the men and women in these clubs are in and out of bed with each other, irrespective of body parts. Don’t tell me you disapprove.’

‘I…’ Fleur bit her lip, still throbbing from the kiss.

‘I’m only teasing you, Fleur. Sébastien only likes women, more’s the pity. But be warned; if you do hope to get involved with him, be prepared for long evenings listening to him talk about art and how the world should change, and don’t expect him to offer marriage.’

‘Who says I am hoping to get involved with him?’ Fleury retorted.

‘You do.’ Pierre smirked. ‘Through your eyes and the way they go large like a calf’s whenever he talks to you.’

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