Chapter 12

12

PRESENT DAY

Blake felt strange not having the sketch with her. She had the little wooden box sitting on the private cocktail counter in her room, with her plane ticket home and an assortment of other bits and pieces, but it didn’t feel right knowing that she was missing one of the clues.

The night before, she’d taken herself out to dinner at a bistro within walking distance of her hotel, before coming back and curling up in bed. It had been like sleeping in a cloud, and she’d woken up excited to head down for breakfast so she could have her much longed-for genuine French croissant.

She collected her laptop and put it in her bag, along with her notebook, a pen and some cosmetics, and headed downstairs, not seeing the friendly concierge from the day before as she walked through the lobby and into the café. There was a vacant table outside, and she quickly took it, setting up her laptop on the little round table and then sitting down to people-watch and admire the fashion on display.

When the waiter came past her table, holding a little white pad and a pen, she ordered a coffee and a croissant, which even she could manage with her limited French, and then turned her attention to her screen. It was time to write.

Blake folded her arms as she reread the few lines that she’d typed the day before, pleased with how she’d described her arrival in Paris and the way she felt about coming closer to finding out more. It had seemed so daunting when she’d pitched the series, but now that she was actually writing the articles, the words were coming to her almost effortlessly.

She was just about to start typing again when her phone rang.

Blake read the name flashing on her screen. Henri .

Oh my gosh, it’s Henri Toussaint calling!

‘Hello?’ she said, as if she didn’t know who it was.

‘Blake, it’s Henri, from yesterday.’

‘Hi, Henri. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.’

She could hear muffled noises in the background, and Henri apologised and seemed to move somewhere quieter.

‘I was wondering if you might be free for dinner tonight?’ he asked. ‘I’ve made a copy of the design, and I’ve also made a few calls.’

Her heart skipped a beat. ‘Yes! Dinner would be wonderful. Where should I meet you?’

‘How about I pick you up from your hotel at seven?’

She nodded, before realising that he couldn’t see her. ‘Seven it is. I look forward to seeing you.’

Henri said goodbye and then the line went dead, but Blake didn’t put down the phone, still surprised by the fact that he’d called her, especially after how uninterested he’d seemed when she’d first knocked on his door the day before.

Blake’s coffee and croissant arrived and she thanked the waiter, pushing her laptop slightly out of the way so she could enjoy her breakfast and study the outfits of the women walking past. If she was having dinner with Henri, she was going to need something to wear.

Hours later, Blake was positively buzzing when she stood in front of the mirror and checked her appearance. She’d had the most fabulous day shopping and exploring, and she’d arrived back at the hotel with little more than an hour to shower and get herself ready to meet Henri. She’d been overthinking dinner the entire day—confirmed by Abby when she’d called her in a panic—as she tried to decide whether it was a business-type dinner or a date. Which meant that she’d found it even harder to buy the perfect outfit, and had ended up spending far too much.

She glanced at her phone and saw that it was almost seven, so she quickly checked her teeth for lipstick and picked up her bag and a jacket, and headed for the door. The lift down was quick, and before she knew it the doors were opening and she was stepping out into the lobby. And there was Henri, standing near the door, his eyes meeting hers as a smile creased his face.

‘Mademoiselle!’ came the voice of the concierge. ‘I’m finishing my shift if you would like?—’

‘Thank you, but I have dinner plans,’ she said, tucking her bag under her arm as she walked towards Henri. As far as dinner dates went, they didn’t get more handsome—he looked even better than she remembered.

‘Blake,’ he said, stepping forward and kissing her on each cheek.

She returned his kisses and suddenly felt terribly self-conscious about her choice of outfit. Henri was dressed in a very smart, slim-fitting suit with a black t-shirt beneath his jacket, and she was wearing a champagne-coloured silk dress that the assistant at the store she’d been to had insisted was made for her. The neckline was lower than she’d usually wear, and the heels were higher, but she’d dressed much more for a date than for a meeting.

‘You’ve been shopping today?’ he asked, as he gestured for her to follow him.

‘I have. Is it so obvious?’ Heat flushed her cheeks.

‘You look as if you’ve been styled by a Parisian, that’s all,’ he said, smiling at her.

His car was a sleek Mercedes-Benz, which perfectly suited his personality. When she slid into the seat, she was tempted to tell him she’d never sat in a car quite so luxurious, but then thought better of it.

‘I have a table at L’Avenue for us,’ he said, as he started up the car and slowly pulled away from the kerb. ‘Since this is your first time in Paris, I wanted to make it an unforgettable evening for you.’

She swallowed. It was already feeling like an unforgettable evening to her, and the night had only just begun.

‘When you called, I thought perhaps you’d discovered something about the design.’

‘Unfortunately not, but I did send it through to my mother, and trust me, she will be the one to discover who it was drawn by,’ he said. ‘I have had it pinned to my wall, though, as I worked, and the whole mystery of it all has intrigued me, I have to say.’

‘Your mother is in fashion?’

Henri gave her a tight smile. ‘Ah, you could say that, yes. Anyway, tell me, why now? What made you start searching for answers?’

Blake twisted slightly in her seat to better look at Henri when he spoke. ‘I ignored the clues for so long, but something about that design, it’s really drawn me in. Now that I’ve started searching for whoever created it, I feel as if I can’t stop until I find out who it is.’

‘It was like that for me when I started to curate my exhibition,’ Henri said. ‘I became obsessed with searching for the right pieces, and once I’d started, I simply couldn’t stop.’ He was quiet for a moment before continuing. ‘It’s actually why I asked you for dinner tonight. Yesterday when you came to my studio was the first time I’ve gone out for lunch or even left the building in days. It reminded me that I need to stop and enjoy myself once in a while.’

‘Well, I appreciate the invitation. I know no one else in Paris, so it’s lovely to have someone take me out to dinner.’

‘You dined alone last night?’

She laughed. ‘I certainly did.’

‘Well, no woman as beautiful as you should ever have dinner in Paris alone. I think it is perhaps a crime.’

Blake laughed, immediately wondering if he truly thought that, or if it was just his French charm. Either way, it made her skin flush. ‘I’m sure it’s not, but thank you.’

They pulled into a car park and he got out and walked around the vehicle to open her door, before holding his arm out to her. She took it, liking that he was making such an effort to be a gentleman. He’d spoken twice about his mother now, and she found herself curious to know how she knew so much about fashion.

‘It’s straight across the road there,’ Henri said, pointing to a restaurant with planter boxes filled with meticulously trimmed green hedges, creating a room-like feel around the front. In the fading light, she could see that the awning around it was a crisp white to match the chairs and tablecloths, with a wide glass frontage through which she could see impossibly beautiful couples dining and laughing in the low light.

‘Something tells me this isn’t somewhere I could have come to and been offered a table tonight,’ Blake said. How had he even managed to get a reservation at such short notice?

‘It’s one of my favourite places to eat,’ he said, ‘and they make unforgettable cocktails.’

Blake didn’t need to be convinced—she happily walked through the door, dropping her hand from his arm as she stepped ahead of him. As she’d guessed, he was greeted by name and they were ushered to a very private table near the back, and within seconds there was a waiter standing at their table holding a very expensive-looking bottle of champagne.

‘Thank you,’ she said, when it was offered to her first, before correcting herself by saying, ‘Merci.’

‘To unexpected dinners,’ Henri said, holding up his glass for her to clink hers to.

She repeated his words and held up her glass, before they each took a sip.

‘I have to confess that I wanted to make it up to you, for the way I answered the door yesterday,’ Henri said. ‘I want you to know that I’m not usually such a monster when pretty women knock at my place of work.’

Blake laughed. ‘You’ve already apologised, and besides, it’s fine. I know what it’s like to be caught up in work like that. I knocked at the wrong time.’

‘Did Mathilda tell you about my exhibition?’

‘She told me that you were putting together something extraordinary that had been years in the making.’

Henri’s eyes met hers as they both sipped their champagne again. ‘I’m flattered that she called it extraordinary, but she’s right about the time frame. I’ve been wanting to create something for many years, to make fashion accessible for all. I want anyone to be able to visit the exhibition and walk through the past century in French fashion.’

‘Well, it does sound rather extraordinary,’ Blake said. ‘I think you’re being modest.’

‘Tell me about you,’ Henri said, sitting back in his chair. ‘What do you do for work?’

‘I’m a journalist,’ she said. ‘I’m writing a series of articles on finding out what I can about my great-grandmother, and the clues that have led me here to Paris. It’s the lead story for our new digital platform.’

‘I believe your readers are eagerly waiting for the third instalment.’

She was certain her cheeks flushed a very deep shade of pink. ‘You’ve read my articles?’

‘It would be far more concerning if I hadn’t done my research before asking you out for dinner,’ he said with a wink. ‘Although I couldn’t help but wonder if I might be mentioned in the next story, now that you’ve finally tracked down the Frenchman who might hold the key to the past.’

Blake groaned. He’d just quoted her. ‘I don’t know what to say. I’m sure my pink cheeks did a very good job of conveying my embarrassment, though.’

‘That was unkind of me, teasing you like that. But honestly, I do hope to have something of interest to share with you soon,’ he said, nodding to the waiter who came back to refill their glasses. ‘I appreciate your dedication to the past, and you’ve piqued my curiosity.’

‘It just feels like something I need to do, for my family,’ she told him. ‘I have this overwhelming feeling that I owe it to my grandmother, to know where she came from and what led to her birth mother placing her for adoption.’

‘You were close to your grandmother?’

‘I was. She was everything to me, and I don’t think I’ve ever accepted her passing.’

‘And your mother?’

Blake blew out a breath. ‘My mother has been unwell for most of my life. It started when my father passed away, and she just never recovered.’

‘Is she still…’

‘Alive?’ Blake finished for him. ‘Yes, she is. It was described to us as a complete nervous breakdown at the time, and she has never recovered. My siblings and I visit her every month. She lives in a residential care home in the countryside, but she doesn’t know who we are or communicate with us in any way. Which is why I was the person contacted when the news about my grandmother’s birth came to light.’

Henri’s gaze softened. ‘I’m sorry. You’ve been through a lot.’

Blake sipped her champagne and waited for the emotion to pass. It had all happened such a long time ago, but talking about her mother always sent a ripple of pain through her that was hard to fight. It was one of the reasons she so rarely told anyone about her family’s situation.

‘You have siblings?’ Henri asked gently.

‘I do. A brother and a sister, both younger than me.’ She hesitated. ‘I raised them, so they feel more like children to me, even though they’re both adults now.’

‘I lost my father when I was just a boy, and although I have always been very close to my mother, it would have been nice to have siblings. I’ve always imagined it would have made things easier, just having a brother or a sister to go through life with.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear about your father.’ Her fingers itched to reach out and take his hand, but she hesitated. ‘And I think you’re right. Sometimes it’s easier to go through something like that with a sibling. There’s a sense of shared trauma that no one else understands.’

‘And now you’re in Paris, without said siblings, to discover secrets from the past?’ He raised his left eyebrow in such a comical way that it made her giggle. It was as if he’d somehow turned their shared emotion over losing a parent into something humorous, and it didn’t help that now an entire glass of champagne was making her giddy.

‘When you say it like that, you make it sound scandalous.’

‘Well, who’s to say it wasn’t scandalous? A fashion designer and a secret baby in the ’30s does sound rather wicked, if you’re asking me.’

Blake smiled at him as their entrées arrived, leaning back slightly so the waiter could place hers on the table.

‘I’m pleased you knocked on my door yesterday, Blake.’

She glanced down at her food, feeling flushed from the champagne and the attention. And when she looked back up and found him still watching her, the butterflies filling her stomach made her wonder how she was ever going to eat a thing.

Almost two hours later, after another glass of champagne, followed by the most exquisite array of succulent chicken, potatoes, vegetables and lamb, Blake had decided that as far as dates went, she’d never had one like it. Whether she saw Henri again or not, it had shown her that she needed to date more often, and that interesting, wildly attractive men really did exist. The way he looked at her made her feel desired and beautiful, made her forget that she hadn’t been in the company of a man for such a long time, and she wished that their night wouldn’t end.

When their server came back for the third time to see whether they needed anything else, Henri gave her a look that said they probably should move on.

‘Thank you for a wonderful evening,’ Blake said, as Henri came around the table to pull out her chair for her.

His hand brushed her arm as she stood, and she glanced up at him. He stayed standing just a little too close, before reaching for her bag and passing it to her.

‘Would you like me to drive you back to your hotel, or should we walk to get eclairs?’

‘Eclairs?’ she asked. ‘I don’t think I could eat any more even if I wanted to!’

‘Well, a petit eclair won’t take up much more room, and besides, we can walk there. I know a place not far away.’

Blake would have said yes to anything that meant extending their evening together, and so she found herself walking ahead of Henri through the restaurant, until he offered her his arm when they were out on the street. She slipped her hand through it, smiling to herself when he leaned in slightly.

‘These eclairs are to die for. I haven’t had one in a very long time, but they will be worth the walk.’

‘I’m sure this is where you take all your dates,’ she teased.

He laughed. ‘I have done little other than work for the past few months. The exhibition has consumed me.’ Henri’s voice dropped an octave as he stopped walking and stepped in front of her, touching his hand to her waist. ‘You are the only beautiful woman I’ve been out with in a very long time.’

Her stomach leaped, waiting for him to kiss her, expecting him to close the distance between them and press his lips to hers. But instead, he smiled and took a step back, pointing to a little shop with a striped awning ahead as he cleared his throat.

‘It’s time for eclairs,’ he said.

And as happy as Blake was at the prospect of eclairs, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to be kissed by Henri, standing on a street corner in Paris.