“Tell me.”
“You’d laugh at me. Anyway, I shouldn’t say it.”
“Why not?”
Legrand turned back to her. “Because you’re married.”
“You’ve said things to married women before. Don’t say you haven’t.”
“Yes, but you’re different.”
“Different how?”
“You have a conscience.” He set down the snifter on the lamp table and stood. “I’ll just see if that talkative concierge of yours has run out of breath.”
But when he cracked open the door, the noise of female chatter drifted upward from the staircase, punctuated with a cackle of laughter.
He shut the door again and looked over one shoulder at Daisy. “I could kill them, you know.”
“Please don’t. People will talk.”
“Then I don’t suppose you’ve got a drainpipe out back? Something I can shimmy down?”
“Can you do that?”
“I’ve had some practice.”
“Follow me,” she said.
The bedrooms were in the back. She was loath to take him into the children’s room—so she told herself, anyway—or to her own bedroom with Pierre, God forbid, with its grand, canopied, ridiculous bed. Instead she led him to the guest bedroom, which was naturally unoccupied, a modest room dressed in blues and yellows. There were two windows at the back. Legrand peered at both of them and judged the distance to the drainpipe, and to the alley three stories below.
“Is it safe?” Daisy whispered.
“Safe as houses.”
He started to open the window, and she put her hand on his arm.
“You’re wrong,” she said. “I used to have a conscience. But it was made of fear, and doubt, and this shame I had, because I had no father, no mother, this crazy grandmother, this crazy childhood inside a hotel. That’s why I married Pierre. I wanted to be respectable.”
Legrand turned away from the window to face her. She hadn’t turned on any lamps, and the room was dark, his face in utter shadow. Probably he couldn’t see her any better than she could see him.
“Do you still feel this shame?” he said.
“Sometimes. But mostly I’m afraid I will always be respectable. I’m afraid I will never know what it’s like to be free.”
Legrand put his hand on her hair and cupped the curve of her head. “My dear Daisy,” he whispered. “My dear, brave love.”
“Tell me your name,” she whispered back.
“It’s Kit. Short for Christopher.”
“Kit.” She went on her toes and kissed his lips. “Kit.”
His arms went around her and pulled her gently against him. Outside the window, Paris went on and on, drinking and smoking and clattering, finding a way to survive. But here it was calm and dark, it was everything. She smelled the brandy on his breath, the soap on his skin. She thought, This is it, I can’t go back. The old Daisy is gone.
She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him again, and this time he kissed her back. Slow and serious, because this was important.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Babs
Paris, France
April 1964
I felt my high ponytail swish slowly and gently as I walked down the gallery connecting both sides of the Ritz, eyeing the beautiful wares in the boutique windows. Precious had said I should experiment with shopping on my own here as all of the shops met with her approval, but I hadn’t yet found the courage to actually enter one.
I wore another one of my new dresses, a bright green confection with a deep square neckline and short puffed sleeves, but it was so short I was afraid to sit down for fear of exposing myself to unsuspecting passersby. I’d brought my trusty jumper with me to drape over my lap if needed and that had made me feel much better. Or at least dressed. I could only hope I wouldn’t run into Precious as I was quite sure she would relieve me of the jumper posthaste.
I looked down at my gold wristwatch, relieved to see that it was time to meet Drew at the Vend?me entrance, and quickly increased my pace before any of the salespeople had a chance to notice me.
My heart gave a little flip as I recognized the back of Drew’s head and the broad width of his shoulders beneath a dark suit jacket. But then I spotted the leggy Gigi next to him, and my footsteps slowed involuntarily. I briefly thought of hiding behind a potted palm as Drew and I had done the previous day to avoid Prunella, but then Gigi turned her head and spotted me.
“Mrs. Langford. So lovely to see you again. I just gave Drew more of what he asked for.”