Leo turned, stressed, and commenced pacing the room. He had deliberate to spend the afternoon making a begin on making ready a canvas primarily based on the sketches he’d taken final night time. However his head was in a multitude now.

His father had betrayed his mom. Not as soon as however many occasions. He had wounded her deeply, and Leo may by no means forgive him for that.

Actually his grandfather had by no means completed so, throwing his son out of the home and warning him by no means to return again if he valued his appears to be like. Sébastien had laughed in his father’s face, mentioning that there was nothing he may do below French regulation, because it didn’t allow a baby to be disinherited.

Ultimately, every little thing had been left collectively to Sébastien, Henri and his grandmother, although her frail well being meant she was unable to do a lot past nominally log out on the annual accounts and sit on the corporate board.

Then his father had left Paris with barely a look in younger Leo’s route.

His mom had by no means recovered from the failure of her marriage. A brief-lived affair had left her with Bernadette, however a brand new child had solely appeared to exacerbate her melancholy. Earlier than Bernadette was even a yr outdated, his mom had misplaced her bloom and turned inwards.

His mom had killed herself within the winter Leo had turned eleven.

He paused earlier than the window, staring out into the enclosed courtyard backyard. Solar glinted off home windows, half blinding him. He was respiratory quick and shallow, his temper unstable…

Maeve was on the market, seated on a lounger within the shade, flicking via {a magazine}. She was barefoot, carrying the identical sleeveless summer time gown from yesterday. Considered one of Bernadette’s loans, after all.

He puzzled what sort of garments Maeve would ordinarily select to put on. Nothing so vibrant, he suspected.

The fundamental denims and tee-shirt ensemble she’d been carrying after they first met had been pedestrian at greatest, drab at worst. But he guessed that understated kinds in all probability suited her higher than something extra unique. Extra brash colors and patterns would possibly overwhelm her quiet persona.

He flashed again to their impromptu kiss on the attic touchdown – although it had been greater than only a kiss, given the urgency of his want on the time – and once more battled a way of disbelief that he may have completed one thing so silly and ill-advised.

She had kissed him again, although.

What did that imply?

He grimaced, pushing such pointless hypothesis apart. He desperately wanted to stipulate his first portray at this time and get her again into the studio as quickly as doable. And in daylight this time. It was all very effectively working below electrical lighting when there was no different selection, however he needed to seize the mushy glow of summer time on her face…

‘When do you assume they’ll arrive?’ he muttered.

His grandmother hesitated. ‘Nicely, the newspaper says they have been married final weekend in St Tropez, so it’s possible they’re in Paris already. Which suggests Sébastien may seem on the doorstep at any second, bringing his new bride with him.’ Her voice trembled. ‘At the moment, maybe? Or tomorrow.’

Leo’s fingers tightened into fists at his aspect. ‘Then we’ll should be prepared for them, received’t we?’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘I would like you to place these on, in case you don’t thoughts.’ Leo deposited a pile of clothes in entrance of Maeve, a wierd look in his face. ‘Don’t fear… I’ll step exterior whilst you change. I’ll get us some espresso, how’s that?’

‘You don’t occur to have tea, do you?’ Maeve requested, verging on desperation after days of espresso ingesting. ‘With a splash of milk?’

Leo pulled a face. ‘I feel we in all probability have tea someplace in the home. And milk. However I can’t assure that it’s going to style something like what you consider as “tea”.’

‘As shut as you will get it could be unbelievable, thanks,’ Maeve mentioned, conscious of a ridiculous want to fall on her knees and beg for tea. ‘Habit is a humorous factor, isn’t it?’

‘Hilarious.’

‘Am I being intolerably British?’

‘In no way,’ he mentioned politely. ‘Get modified. I’ll do my greatest to provide some drinkable tea.’

As soon as he’d gone, Maeve’s troubled gaze dropped to the garments he’d left in entrance of her. They have been very, um, vibrant. She picked them up and examined them at arms’ size. The fabric was flimsy, screaming orange and scarlet… Some type of gown? Plus what seemed to be an identical headband or bandanna. And a pair of dangly earrings. Fortunately, they have been clip-on, for though she wore studs in her ears, she didn’t fancy sticking second-hand earrings in there.

It was like placing on garments from a childhood fancy gown field. Or choosing a daring new look and reinventing herself.

Why on earth did he need her to put on these? Presumably he had some imaginative and prescient in thoughts for his portray. But it surely wouldn’t be a imaginative and prescient that matched as much as her persona.

Nicely, she had agreed to assist him out in return for mattress and board, so it could be mean-spirited now to again out. Hurriedly, she pulled off the summer time frock that Bernadette had so kindly lent her, which was tighter-fitting than all the opposite garments in her meagre retailer. Then she cautiously wriggled and shrugged her manner into the brightly-coloured gown that he needed her to put on, all diaphanous, multi-layered folds, like a fairy costume or one thing out of a pantomime.

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