Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

determined he’s going to notice me.”
    I moved closer to her. “Who is he? Do tell.”
    “Well, he’s a Frenchman, darling, and absolutely gorgeous. And a marquis to boot.” She grabbed my arm. “Ooh, there he is now. Look, over there. Coming toward us. Finally he remembers who I am.”
    And there was the Marquis de Ronchard, coming toward us with an expectant smile on his face. Of course, I thought. He’s seen Belinda. And I felt a small stab of disappointment.
    “Ah, there you are, you little minx,” he said to me. “I have good news to report. Madame Chanel will be more than delighted to design a gown especially for you. What is more, it will be a present to thank you for participating in her fashion show.” He appeared to notice Belinda for the first time. “And who is your charming friend? Please introduce us.”
    “My best friend from school days, Belinda Warburton-Stoke,” I said. “Belinda, may I present the Marquis de Ronchard.”
    “Enchanté , mademoiselle,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it. “Any friend of Lady Georgiana’s is a friend of mine.”
    I then expected that he would whisk Belinda away to a tête-à-tête. Instead he put his arm around me. “What do you say—shall we go and play the tables now?”
    “Oh, someone was actually getting me a drink,” I said. “That young man over there.”
    Jean-Paul waved this away. “He can give the drink to your delightful friend instead. I intend to keep you for myself. Come, roulette is calling. I have a feeling that you will bring me good luck tonight.” He bowed to Belinda. “Mademoiselle, I hope you will excuse us, but I have been trying to lure this enchanting young lady away all evening and now I seize my chance. The young man who now approaches will be delighted to keep you entertained, I’m sure.”
    And he whisked me away past an astonished Belinda. I tried not to grin like a schoolgirl. For once in my life the attractive man had chosen me over Belinda and over my mother. Maybe it was because of the Chanel outfit. Maybe clothes did make the woman after all!
    Jean-Paul de Ronchard steered me through the crowd to a large gaming room. As we progressed he nodded and exchanged greetings with almost everyone we passed. I was still in a state of shock that I had beaten out Belinda and my mother. A small warning voice at the back of my brain whispered that this was a dangerous Frenchman, but at the moment I didn’t care. As we arrived at the roulette table a place was vacated and Jean-Paul steered me toward it. The man who was leaving, with a sizeable stack of chips, turned toward us and I saw it was Darcy.
    He recognized me at the same moment and his eyes lit up. “Georgie—well, I’m damned. What are you doing here?”
    “Good evening, Mr. O’Mara,” I said, fighting to keep my voice even.
    He laughed, a trifle uneasily. “Why the sudden formality?”
    “I believe it’s simpler if one keeps things formal. And since you ask, I’m wintering on the Riviera like you,” I said.
    “Actually, I’m only here for a brief stay—on a spot of business,” he said.
    “Oh, really. Business.” I stared at him coldly.
    “Yes. Business.” He was frowning now. “Is something wrong?”
    “With me? No, everything is perfect,” I said. “I’m having the time of my life.” I took Jean-Paul’s arm. “The marquis is going to teach me how to win at roulette,” I said. My gaze dropped to the stack of chips Darcy was holding. “I see you already know how. Congratulations. I hope you enjoy your winnings. Now if you’ll excuse us. I’m sure you have someone waiting for you—more than one person, actually.”
    I eased into the seat at the table and Jean-Paul perched on the arm beside me. “Two hundred to start with,” he said to the croupier, throwing some notes across the table.
    I could sense Darcy still hovering behind me.
    “Georgiana—what’s the matter with you?” he asked. “Why are you acting like this?”
    I looked back at him. “Maybe I’ve seen that there is no sense in pursuing a romance that can’t go anywhere,” I said. “Maybe I want a man who can devote himself to me and take care of me—and only me.”
    Jean-Paul put a hand on my shoulder, then looked back at Darcy. “I think the young lady wishes you to leave now. You are distressing her.”
    “Very well,” Darcy said. “If that’s what the young lady wants.” He held my gaze for a long moment, then pushed his way angrily through