looked amused. ‘So people say. Your proposition?’
She met his eyes steadily. ‘I happen to require some work done. On several portraits that need certain…adjustments.’
‘Adjustments?’ His dark eyebrows arched.
‘Yes!’ she declared. ‘But the work must be done discreetly, and I cannot afford to pay you much.…’
‘It sounds,’ said Jacques of Claremont, ‘as if you’re offering me a commission I could very easily turn down flat.’
He saw the colour rush to her cheeks, and he thought, Why, she is pretty. More than pretty. With those high cheekbones and those thick-lashed blue eyes, she could, if she chose, be a beauty.
But clearly she didn’t choose, with her hair scraped back in a spinster’s cap, and those faded clothes. And now she was nervously clasping her hands. ‘Please, I will do my best to make it worth your while. But if I could just show you what I require? In confidence?’
‘In confidence, of course,’ he agreed gravely. ‘Your name is?’
‘That doesn’t matter! May I show you—now—the work that needs to be done, monsieur?’
‘Of course.’ He saw her face brighten with hope. ‘And then,’ he went on, ‘I can tell you my price.’
Her face had fallen again, so expressive. She was lovely, he thought, quite lovely! She hesitated, then lifted those wide blue eyes almost in defiance. ‘Very well. Monsieur Jacques, we need to go to the Louvre.’
The Louvre Palace? Where the imperial wedding would take place, so very soon? Jacques blinked. He gave a bow. ‘Lead on, mademoiselle.’
As soon as Jacques had arrived in Paris, he’d quickly realised that the wedding dominated everything. The modistes and tailors were working every hour they could to keep up with the demand for finery from the rich. The mayor of Paris had hired all available artisans to work on the completion of the Arc de Triomphe, through which the imperial procession would pass on the great day. The military were constantly on parade, practising their ceremonial marches. Musicians were being sought from all quarters to fill the Champs-Élysées and the Tuileries gardens with melody during the celebrations. As he followed the well-spoken but rather desperate woman who was his guide along the rue de Rivoli towards the Louvre, Jacques noted with wonder that even Paris’s streets were being swept.
She pulled up before the great public entrance of the Louvre, where crowds of visitors hurried to and fro.
‘We’ll have to pay to get in today,’ he warned her. ‘Can’t your business wait till tomorrow, when the place is open to the public for free?’
She glanced up at him, agitated. ‘We cannot wait. Please, follow me.’ She hurried up to the curator guarding the door, who waved her through with a nod and a smile.
So she was known here, registered Jacques. Intriguing indeed.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
