Chapter 22

22

ONE WEEK LATER

Evelina knew who the crisp white envelope was from as soon as she saw the handwriting. It had been slid beneath the front door while she was in the shower, and now, with her hair wet and wrapped in a robe, she bent to collect it and walked back to the table. Her hands trembled as she sat down to open it, her fingers lingering on the capital letter E.

It’s from Antoine.

She would have known his impeccably neat penmanship anywhere, and she ran her fingernail beneath the seal to open it, taking the letter out, her heart racing as she did so.

Evelina,

I know I do not deserve you, my darling, but I pray that you will change your mind. You have my heart, you always will, and I hope that nothing will keep us apart. To imagine a life without you, to even consider that what we’ve shared could be over, it’s not something that I can comprehend. You are everything to me, and I cannot face another day or week without you in my arms.

With all my love,

Antoine

Evelina reread the letter, imagining him as he wrote it, wondering whether he’d shed a tear as he signed his name or if he’d hand-delivered it himself. She brushed away her own tears as she looked up and then cast her eyes around the apartment, accepting the decision she’d made even as his letter tugged at her heartstrings. It had made it all so much harder. She’d already decided to leave—her suite at the Ritz was ready and waiting for her—and although it was costing her a small fortune, she knew it was the only decision she could have made.

By moving there, she would not only have a place of residence, but she’d also be able to show her new designs to prospective buyers. Because if she couldn’t change Antoine’s mind about the baby, then she no longer wanted to work with him, either. It would be impossible, for both of them. And if, after two months, she hadn’t found a buyer for her new designs, she would have nothing left—all of her savings would be gone. But she was confident enough in her work to believe that wouldn’t happen.

Evelina took the letter and walked to the window, gazing out at the glittering skyline, wishing that things could have been different. But it was time to leave. Just as she’d walked away from her childhood home and then from her marriage, it was time to walk away from this apartment and the life she’d shared with Antoine. She stared down at the letter one last time, before folding it in half and then in half again, and slipping it into the pocket of her robe.

When Evelina turned around, she stared at the apartment, at all the furniture she was leaving behind—everything that Antoine had carefully curated for her before she’d moved in. It truly felt like a lifetime ago. The thick-pile carpet in the bedroom that she so loved sinking her toes into; the ornate lamps that sat in the living room and beside her bed; and the vases that she had always loved to fill with fresh flowers, particularly the white roses that he’d often bought for her. Flowers were her one reminder of home; they’d been their one luxury growing up. She and her sisters were allowed to take the roses that weren’t good enough to go to market and place them in glass jars in their bedroom. There had been no other extravagances—her father more than likely wouldn’t have allowed it even if they’d had the money to afford them. But barely a week had gone by that she hadn’t been able to enjoy her white or apricot-coloured roses, even if she’d had to revert to dried ones that she’d preserved from springtime.

Evelina stood in the middle of the apartment and slowly turned, remembering what it had felt like the moment she’d first walked through the door. She’d twirled then and admired the high ceilings and ornate light fittings, the cream walls that had been freshly painted and the hardwood floor polished until it shone. It had felt like everything she could ever want, until suddenly, it wasn’t.

‘Goodbye, Antoine,’ she whispered, as a knock sounded on the door.

She glanced at her wristwatch and saw that the door man was right on time to help her. Bless his heart, he never asked her why, he simply took her things with a nod and the barest hint of a smile, and fifteen minutes later, she was standing in her suite.

She opened one of her bags and took out her toiletries, finding her favourite new perfume by Elsa Schiaparelli and running her fingers over the hourglass bottle. It was inspiring to her because it was so sensual, and she sprayed some into the air, walking into her bedroom to spray a little more. Evelina wanted her suite to inspire her every time she set foot inside, or moved to another room; she wanted to smell the scent that told her not to hold back in her designs. She wanted to remember why she was doing what she was doing, and she couldn’t bear to smell Chanel No. 5 again after wearing it so often for Antoine.

Evelina began the process of unpacking her things, thanking the porter when he arrived with her rug and set it down for her, and within the hour she was sitting on top of her bed with pieces of fabric strewn around her, and papers everywhere. In fact, she didn’t pause until she looked up and realised that it was dark, the windows black. She stood and pulled the curtains, running her fingers across the thick velvet, before getting changed and going downstairs to the restaurant to find something to eat.

Evelina would have been lying if she’d said she wasn’t a little nervous about the days to come. She was lying in bed, her fingers splayed across her stomach as she felt the rounded curve that had recently begun to grow, counting down the minutes until she had to rise and ready herself. Unlike the first time she’d shown her original collection and met Antoine, this time she was confident about her designs and the people she’d invited actually turning up. She’d even invited Antoine, which was the only reason she was languishing in bed, wondering whether she’d made a terrible mistake. But she knew that, despite what had happened between them, he was a businessman first and foremost. His family trusted him to make the best decisions for their business, and she doubted that anything would make him deviate from that path. Besides, people might ask questions if he suddenly lost his bestselling designer to a rival.

‘Get up,’ she mumbled to herself. ‘It’s time to make yourself look like the most fashionable designer in Paris.’

She finally stood, washing and then slipping into her dressing gown. Evelina called down for coffee, the only thing she could stomach in the mornings lately, before beginning her make-up and setting her hair in curlers. Then she surveyed the living room, admiring the mannequins she’d placed strategically, each dressed to show off a different signature piece in her collection. The dresses were the best she’d ever made, and she knew that Parisian women would love them. She’d begun designing a new collection for each season, and these dresses were all made in silk from rich jewel colours.

She spent the rest of the morning fussing over each piece, making sure every seam, every zip, every button was perfect, before finally finishing her hair and waiting for the first knock at her door. This was still the way of doing business in the city, the secrecy paramount to ensuring no one copied the latest new designs, and she hoped that the buyers coming would appreciate her gorgeous suite, as well as what she had to offer.

When she opened the door for the first time, she was almost surprised to see that it wasn’t Antoine. But she recognised the man standing before her as a buyer for a smaller shop, and let him kiss both of her cheeks before moving aside to let him in. She repeated the greeting five more times, and just as she thought no one else was going to arrive, a handsome, all too familiar man stepped forward, his hair neatly brushed, his skin tanned and glowing as if he’d just returned from the beach.

‘Antoine,’ she said, careful not to stumble over his name. It was the first time she’d seen him since their final night together. ‘Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure whether or not to expect you.’

He nodded and stepped forward, kissing both of her cheeks, but lingering just a little too long over the final press of his lips to her skin.

‘You look well,’ he said, and she didn’t miss the way his eyes fluttered to her midsection.

‘Please, come and look at my new collection,’ she said. ‘My greatest hope is that you will fall in love with my pieces again.’

‘But you invited my competitors to your showing, just in case I didn’t come?’ he asked, folding his arms across his chest as he surveyed the room.

She realised then that he’d thought it a personal invitation she’d sent only for him. Evelina smiled, pleased to have the upper hand for once.

‘Precisely. I wasn’t certain whether our business arrangement would continue, given—’ Her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat.

Antoine’s face twitched slightly, as if he were in pain, and she glanced away. It was reminiscent of their first meeting, in a roomful of other influential fashion buyers, but that night had ended very differently to how she expected this one to.

She took a breath, closing her eyes for a moment to gather herself, before straightening her shoulders and extending one arm towards the middle of the room. ‘Enjoy viewing the collection, Antoine,’ she said. ‘I very much hope that it will be to your liking.’