A Proper Scandal (Ravensdale Family Book 2) Page 13

  “I’ve developed the taste for a great many things. I’m no longer a child, Alex.”

  He tilted his chin downward, frowning at the empty bottle before tossing it to the side. Glass thumping against the wall was the only sound between them for several minutes. “I’m well aware of that.” His voice developed a sudden somberness. “I know you’re lying.”

  How silly of Minnie to forget Alex’s ability to have two conversations at once. One moment he was grilling her about her life at present, the next, about her past.

  “No,” she shot back. It was important to keep her life separated. It wasn’t possible to be both Minnie Ravensdale and Evangeline Dupree. Where Anne Gibbons fit in, she had no idea.

  “You’re mad because I know who you really are.” He faced her. “You’re furious because I’ve found you.”

  Her hand wrapped around her middle as she focused on breathing. Everything was growing cold and there was an odd flutter inside her that refused to quiet. “Some twenty minutes ago you had your hand down my dress!”

  “You let me put my hand down your dress.”

  “I didn’t know it was you, Alex.”

  Liar.

  “That makes a difference? I’ll pay for your time—”

  Minnie reached over and slapped him across the face.

  “I deserved that,” he said, his voice somber as he rubbed his cheek.

  “Without question, you bastard.” She rose as quickly as the gown would allow and started down the hall once more, feeling as if she would be ill. Everything was wrong when Alex acted like the rest of the men in her life. He had meant something to her once. But the Alex standing before her now wasn’t a friend. Nor was he an enemy. He was a great deal more than one could box into a neat label. He’d always been good at spilling over all the corners of her life. He wasn’t a rogue, wasn’t a bastard—most of the time—certainly not a cad like the patrons who pawed after her at the dance hall. He was Alex, thoroughly and wholly consuming in his own way, a master of none yet the owner of her heart.

  “Why do you keep lying to me?”

  “If you don’t leave me alone,” she threatened, spinning around to find his tall body close to hers. She took a nervous swallow. “If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll tell Monsieur Peprin. He’ll have you thrown out.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Ah, so Monsieur Peprin is your savior now? Does he let you dance for him? Are you finally a ballerina?”

  Minnie could lose herself in those questions. “I’m not Minnie Ravensdale.”

  “Funny, I had two persuasive gentlemen find me who were quite certain you were Minnie Ravensdale. They were none too pleased to learn that I was your husband.”

  A laugh began low in her throat, a deep sound that slowly bubbled into a gleeful cackle. So, her uncle and Isaac had found Alex? Ha!

  “That’s funny to you, is it?”

  “Very much.” She didn’t want to think of her family. She missed them all dearly, especially Grace who continued to write. But even those letters had dwindled in the passing years. With the back of her glove, she wiped away the hysterical tears and turned to be on her way. “Leave me alone, Alex.”

  “You won’t say any more?”

  “No,” she shouted over her shoulder. She was close to the balcony now. All Minnie needed was some fresh air. Once outside, she could get her head on straight and return to the party and continue to entertain as agreed upon. She wouldn’t ruin this opportunity.

  But Alex was thick as ever and followed. With the stomp of his foot on her train, Minnie toppled backward into his arms. “I wasn’t done with my questions, Minerva.”

  She stilled in his arms, hanging upside down as if they were in the middle of a tango and he was catching his lover. His hair was no longer that horrid blond, but a warm gold. It fell from its careful sweep and hung by his blue eyes. She liked being in his arms. The fine wool of his tailored coat was warm against her skin.

  At some point during all of this, he had switched from French to English. The lyrical lilt returned, breaking through a practiced polish. Try as he might, Alex could not erase his past, though it appeared as though he was trying.

  “It’s Minnie,” she whispered, studying the man Alex had transformed into since their separation. “Only Minnie.”

  His thumb brushed the skin under her eyes, his brow pinched as he wiped away the kohl. He stopped short of her lips, igniting the ghosting memory of when he had kissed her those years ago. Two penniless and starving children, seeking each other’s comfort. And that sweet, gentle kiss that had warmed them both.

  “Nice to meet you, Minnie Ravensdale.”

  Minnie closed her eyes, for if she didn’t, she would kiss the prying man again, and that would lead to more kisses, and perhaps bare skin and the regrets that came with the intimate meeting of naked flesh. So instead of kissing Alex, she nodded.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Now that Alex had found her, even if accidentally, he could not stay away from Minnie. So, the fact that she now resided in the wealthy part of Paris alone should have troubled him. It seemed Minnie had somehow landed herself as the mistress of the one man who had the power to either make or crush Alex.

  It should have stopped him, but he didn’t even pause as he knocked on her door.

  The butler looked rather flummoxed, but ushered him into the sitting room. Alex was about to sit on a jade brocade settee, his eyes focused on the jaguar pelt on the floor by the fireplace, when he heard a thunder of footfalls down the main staircase. He turned, bracing his arm casually on the back of a winged-back chair in pink velvet. Everything in the room was gilded, a collection of bright colors and exotic collections. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had a parrot—as she once had—who would be flying around the giant palm ferns scattered across the sitting room.

  Minnie entered with a swoosh of skirts, looking rather elegant in her morning dress. Her eyes lit up as she stopped short in the doorway and clasped her hands together. He wished she would have rushed forward with the hug she was fighting back. At least she seemed to have forgotten her anger from the other night. He didn’t blame her. He hadn’t been himself.

  “Alex.” Her large hazel eyes were bright and eager, even if her body was poised.

  He didn’t straighten as he answered, “Hello, Minnie.”

  “Miss Dupree,” she corrected, crossing her arms.

  So that was how it was to be between them? “Je suis désolé.” He straightened and pulled his suit in order. “Hello, Miss Dupree.”

  Her lips settled into a straight line. “Why are you here, Alex?”

  “Mr. Marwick,” he corrected.

  One side of her mouth kicked up for a moment before it settled back into a straight line. She tapped her foot. “Well?”

  “I came to ask if you would like to accompany me to the opera this evening.”

  “I see.”

  He scratched his brow, his frustration mounting. She had appeared happy when she entered, but she wasn’t allowing him to see that fact.

  “I cannot accept.”

  “Why not?” he shot back.

  “You didn’t dispatch a written invitation. Every gentleman knows he must ask with a written invitation.” She stuck her nose in the air, happy to have bested him.

  He nodded then strode out into the hall calling for the footman to bring him paper and pen. Minnie remained in the doorway, silent as he scrawled a note on top of the gilded mahogany table in the entranceway. “Here,” he said, waving the note in front of her face.

  Minnie raised an eyebrow, her face blank as she read the note, then promptly handed it back. When she met his stare, he thought he saw a light of appreciation or wonder in her eyes. He had learned a great deal since she left him behind.

  “I still cannot accept.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Min!”

  She bit back a smile, her eyes wide again. “Miss Dupree.”

  Alex crushed the note in his hand. “Then why not, Miss Dupree?”

&nb
sp; “It’s rude to question why. I told you that I cannot accept. That’s my answer. Any other gentleman would take it in stride, and leave.”

  “But it’s not a good answer.”

  “It is perfectly acceptable. You should have sent this note three days ago, as proper gentlemen do. That would have been adequate notice.”

  He shook his head, his hand raking through his hair as a frustrated laugh escaped his lips. “Proper,” he spoke aloud, as if saying it would make them both proper. Of all people, she should know he was far from a gentleman. A borrowed suit and some fancy manners shouldn’t trick her into believing otherwise.

  “I’m attending with Monsieur Peprin. In his box. He’s my…”

  “Owner,” Alex added bitterly. He’d heard of Peprin’s fascination with the ever coy but virginal Evangeline Dupree. It was an impossible balance of character to appear innocent when he knew Minnie would do anything for her chance at being onstage. She’d landed at the Moulin Rouge, but he guessed she wished to be a star at the Folies Bergère. Even in Paris, she was just as hungry for success as Alex was for making a name for himself.

  “He’s my patron. He bought me this apartment, my clothes, he supports my dancing career. I might even begin acting lessons so I can become an actress.”

  “Very well.” Alex was so frustrated that he could think of nothing else to say, so he spun around to leave. Fleeing would at least save whatever dignity he had left.

  “If you arrive at eight and happen to run into our party on the front stairs at the opera house, I might be able to procure an invitation for you to join us.”

  Alex stopped, his back still to Minnie.

  “If you wish,” she continued, mirth heavy in her words.

  After the other night, he supposed he deserved being teased. He grabbed his hat from the footman and stuffed it onto his head before turning and tipping it over his brow. “Then I shall happen upon you then…Min.”

  He left before she could correct his informal address.

  *

  Minnie wore a red, daring venture. Not a demure burgundy or deep wine. She wore scarlet, and the scandal of it was delicious. Her dressmaker had outdone himself.

  “You’ll be in all the social columns in the morning,” Chantal giggled, latching onto her elbow as they climbed the steps to the opera house.

  “Undoubtedly.” That had been her intention. The modiste had been insistent on a new fashion, something extremely low cut with the tightest corset Minnie had ever sucked her body into. The result was splendid, even if she couldn’t breathe.

  Eyes were on her almost instantly. Men ogled, wives pulled their husbands back, and the society matrons rushed to malign her behind their fans. Censure meant nothing when she had the approval of Monsieur Peprin. Seeing that he was quite pleased, there wasn’t a thing to worry about.

  “Everyone is staring.” Jealousy oozed from Chantal’s words as Minnie’s smile spread. “How do you do it?”

  Minnie winked at a portly man who turned red once his wife caught him staring.

  “You vixen!”

  Laughter rolled from her core, deep and unguarded. Chantal acted as if it were all luck, as if Minnie was some ugly duckling transformed. And perhaps it did help to finally have caught the eye of Monsieur Peprin, but it had not been some overnight miracle. She had fought for this evening. She had fought for his attention, for his money. He had what she wanted and she was so close now. With Peprin’s connections, she could be more than a chorus girl. She could draw crowds as she graced the stage, alone. Minnie would dwell in its glory like a glutton.

  “Evie.” Chantal’s elbow rammed against Minnie’s corseted core. It would have hurt if she could actually feel her middle. “Who is that with Monsieur Peprin?”

  A woman could fall in love with the way Alex looked there on the steps, standing coolly with the most powerful man in Montmartre. It was hard to tell if he recognized her as she approached, but perhaps that was for the best, because she was grinning like a fool.

  “I don’t know,” Minnie lied on a soft exhale.

  His eyes slid to her for a brief moment, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. That was all. One brief moment that forced her recognize her racing heart against her constricted chest.

  “Let’s know.” Chantal towed Minnie up the remaining stairs, past the thickening crowd. “I find myself wanting to know very much.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks as they neared, her eyes settling on his mouth, remembering the kiss they first shared. That wonderful, divine kiss that turned the world upside down. It’d fed her all these years in moments of darkness. It’d given her a glimpse of hope that someday someone might be kind to her again, that possibly she would learn what love was, instead of always having to play at it for money and attention.

  “Ah, there you are,” Peprin said, observing the pair with a proud smile. He scanned the crowd behind Minnie and Chantal, no doubt taking in how they were attracting the attention of most of Parisian society. The other men crowding around were like hungry wolves, smiling and assessing, as if Minnie and Chantal were on the dinner menu. Such things came with the territory, but still, Alex didn’t look directly at Minnie. Instead, he shared a private laugh with another of Monsieur Peprin’s friends.

  “Shall we proceed inside?” Peprin asked.

  “Who is your friend, monsieur?” Chantal eyed Alex, her mouth in a perfect pink pout. Her last patron had been so wild about her mouth that he commissioned a portrait of her to grace his study’s walls. There had been the diamonds, too, and furs, but duty called and he was married to a far wealthier American. Chantal had moved back in with Minnie and Viviene, unable to afford that lifestyle.

  Alex’s eyes drew up from the stairs to Minnie in a long, slow sweep. The precious little air she had in her lungs squeezed out when their gazes connected. There was a playful light shining in his eyes. Then that smile. That cursed, splendid smile.

  Alex bowed as Monsieur Peprin said, “Allow me to introduce Monsieur Marwick.”

  “Will you be joining us?” Chantal asked.

  When Alex returned Chantal’s smile, Minnie grew rigid. She wished to ask that question of him. She wanted his company. Coy as she might have been with Alex that morning, his visit had spurred something hopeful within her. She might have left for Paris, but she had never rid herself of what she had shared with Alex.

  “No, I don’t wish to interfere.”

  “Nonsense,” Minnie jumped in. “Please join us. Can’t he, Monsieur Peprin?”

  Maybe it was the eagerness in her voice that caused Monsieur Peprin to narrow his eyes at her. Maybe it was only her nerves. Or perhaps it was uneasiness as Alex continued to ignore her. It seemed rather easy for him and she didn’t like that one bit.

  “It would be so nice to speak with a fellow countryman,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at the older man in an attempt to recover.

  The guarded look on his face disappeared and he smiled, as always, at the charming Evie. The man was putty in her hands. “Who am I to deny the lovely Mademoiselle Dupree?” Peprin tapped his cane against the stairs. “Yes, please join us, Monsieur Marwick. I insist.”

  Alex extended his arm to Minnie. “If I may have the pleasure of escorting you, Miss Dupree?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Marwick,” Minnie replied in English, ignoring Chantal. The wealthy half of Paris was at the opera, Chantal could surely find some other man to be her keeper and leave Alex well alone.

  Though his hands were gloved, he made one wicked swipe of his fingers against the small slip of skin between her gloves and the dropped sleeve of her gown. It caught her off-guard. She stumbled, forcing out a deep breath to stop the ground from moving beneath her feet.

  She glanced sideways, catching a brief glimpse of the man escorting her into the most beautiful building she had ever stepped foot in. He sensed her looking, catching her as he stole a glance of his own before focusing on the crush ahead of them.

  Alex was all shadows that evening,
impossible to read and far out of reach. She thought that maybe he was happy to see her, but then his features would pull together in seriousness and her doubts settled in once more.

  He moved them through the crowd with a prowess she didn’t remember him capable of, a quiet confidence of a man, not the Irish pickpocket who often sported a black eye and bloodied knuckles. And when she thought that perhaps he had transformed into a gentleman, he tripped her. She landed upside down in his arms, his hands resting over her corseted middle.

  “Easy there, Min,” he whispered in her ear as he righted her. He set her back onto her feet, but Minnie didn’t feel as if she were standing. The hushed gasps of the crowd quieted as she blushed and waved off their concern.

  The nerve of him to embarrass her so thoroughly in front of Paris society. As they approached Peprin’s box, she sent the curve of her hip against his thigh, knocking him off balance.

  He stumbled forward, smirking down at her as she smiled in kind. They were no better than children. They didn’t belong there at the opera if they were to continue on like this for the rest of the evening. He didn’t belong at her side when her mind was set on the stage below. And whatever dream he harbored, she could not remain at his side if he wanted to appear in polite society. Minnie would never be accepted at luncheon groups or charity fundraisers. She was restricted to the dance halls and the wicked delights that came when dark settled over the city. Life as a demimondaine had its limitations. Of course, it had its freedoms as well.

  *

  The problem was that damn red dress of hers. Leave it to Minnie to wear a scandal. Living one was never enough.

  If she had accepted Alex’s invitation, they could have been friendly. Familiar. It could have been like those long nights they shared in London where they laughed until they cried. Instead, she had insisted they pretend they didn’t know one another. And that was impossible after having his hand down her dress nearly a week ago.

  He had come to Paris to settle Peprin’s debt with Millay’s. With the money Ainsworth promised, he could finally purchase the theater in London and make it his own, and he could prove to Ainsworth he was worthy of running Millay’s Club when he retired. Alex needed Paris to be a success, but the discovery of Minnie was a distraction. A very dangerous distraction.