‘Merci. It might be Monsieur Duvalle with our weekly grocery order, although he normally comes sooner than this.’ Bernadette looped the apron again over her head and reached for her rolling pin. ‘Ask him to hold it down, would you?’

Maeve hurried as much as the bottom ground, the huge kitchen complicated being located under stairs. Little question to maintain the servants out of sight and out of thoughts within the olden days. Earlier than the times of the French Revolution, that was, when the servants had risen up and completed unspeakable issues to their employers, responsible and harmless alike, sadly. Although presumably issues had settled down once more inside a couple of generations, and servants and masters had come again into trend. Wealthy folks tended to favor paying different folks to gentle their fires and prepare dinner their dinners and wash their linen. After they weren’t getting their heads lopped off, in fact.

As she reached the grand entrance corridor, the doorbell jangled once more, a extra extended, noisy summons this time.

‘All proper, all proper, I’m coming… Hold your string of onions on, Monsieur Duvalle,’ she muttered underneath her breath.

However whilst she reached the door, it was flung open by none aside from Leo Rémy.

‘Get away from me,’ Leo was shouting, waving a hand, not her as he plunged into the corridor. ‘Go on, get misplaced!’

Maeve stopped in her tracks. What on earth?

She half anticipated to see an irate French grocer come chasing after him into the corridor, maybe brandishing a baguette or a bag of radishes.

As a substitute, an absolute throng of individuals on the doorstep met her astonished gaze, all lifting telephones and cameras and different gear in her course, a barrage of flashes going off to light up each her and the dim inside.

Others hurried after Leo into the château. One was Liselle, her brows tugged along with irritation, a flushed look on her face. Behind her was Leo’s cousin, additionally somewhat flushed and out of breath. Had they been working? After them got here a big man who seemed so startlingly like Leo that it was inconceivable to not recognise who he was.

Leo’s father, Sébastien Rémy. Leo had advised her about him earlier, and he or she backed away instinctively, recalling how a lot animosity lay between them. On his arm was a fairly younger blonde. His new spouse, presumably. Maeve had forgotten her identify, if Leo had even talked about it, which she didn’t suppose he had.

However who had been all these different folks? Sébastien Rémy’s fan membership?

If that’s the case, they had been surprisingly demanding.

‘How about only one image of you along with your father and his new bride?’ One of many males was attempting to get a foot within the door, regardless of Leo’s battle to shut it. ‘Or perhaps a foursome… You and your girlfriend, Mademoiselle Eden, with the opposite two. How about it, Leo? Come on, the publicity could be nice.’ The person gave a grunt of ache as Leo tried to amputate his foot with the door and he hurriedly withdrew it. ‘Simply you and your father, then?’

The door lastly shut, and Leo sank his again towards it, growling like a wild animal.

However not for lengthy.

‘That is all of your fault, Jean. I maintain you liable for that baying mob outdoors our dwelling,’ Leo rattled off in French. ‘You’ll be fortunate when you’ve got a roof over your head by the top of at the moment, not to mention a job. What the hell had been you pondering, letting the paparazzi unfastened on me and Maeve?’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

However there was no time for a solution to that wonderful query. The baying mob who apparently needed to {photograph} her with Leo, for no cause she might probably fathom, must wait. As a result of Sébastien Rémy was already reaching for her hand and he or she turned to face him, uncertain what to anticipate.

‘Mademoiselle, how fantastic to make your acquaintance. I’m Leo’s papa, Sébastien, and also you should be Maeve.’ He took her hand and bowed over it, placing his lips to her pores and skin. His English was excellent however closely accented. ‘You’re extra lovely than in your {photograph}, Miss Eden. It did you no justice… No justice in any respect. You’re radiant in that very particular means that English women have.’ When she stared at him blankly, he smiled. ‘Easy. Understated. Au naturel.’

‘Erm… Thanks, I believe.’

Easy? Understated? Who was he attempting to child? And ‘au naturel’ simply meant she hadn’t obtained any make-up on and her hair was most likely an unholy mess, caught up in a hairband this morning, however with flyaway bits straggling right here and there.

She glanced at Leo and noticed a fulminating darkness in his face. In fact. He’d advised her how a lot he didn’t need his estranged father to go to them… And but right here the person was, filling the corridor together with his bigger than life presence.

Sympathy sparked in her and he or she shook his father’s hand coolly, including, ‘Good to satisfy you too. I’m unsure I perceive although. What {photograph}?’ However as her gaze returned to Leo’s face, she caught a sudden look of consternation there. Even dismay.

What was he hiding?

She was a instructor. She had seen sufficient youngsters concealing their telephones underneath their desks to not know that expression.

‘What’s he speaking about, Leo? I’d like a straight reply, please. And what on earth are all these folks doing outdoors the door?’ She drew a deep breath, combating off confusion. ‘Why did that man need a {photograph} of you and me?’

‘It’s sophisticated,’ Leo floor out.

‘I’m pretty clever, I can most likely sustain.’

‘They’re the paparazzi,’ his father advised her, nonetheless holding her hand, smiling like one of many angels in heaven. He appeared oblivious to her discomfort. ‘You have got heard of the paps, sure?’

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