Free Lady Adventuress 02 - The Education of Lord Hartley by Daphne du Bois

he thought absently, though he could not for the life of him remember what it had looked like before.
    She met his eyes and raised her chin stubbornly. The familiar gesture left him a little breathless.
    The countess gave him an amused smile. “Hello Hartley, my boy. Now, really, do stop staring and allow me to present you to my new friend, Madame la Baronne de Gramont.”
    An eyebrow shot up. He spoke deliberately in French. “Your servant, Madame. Was I staring? How gauche. I make you my apologies. I mistook you for quite a different lady of my acquaintance. My aunt has spoken to me of her new friend, of course.”
    He watched Maggie’s face and was impressed that only the slightest narrowing of her lovely brown eyes betrayed her wariness.
    “Not at all,” she answered easily, her own French faultless. She inclined her head with a natural grace he could not recall from before. What was she about?
    The countess seemed pleased by the exchange. “I was just telling Marguerite that I thought it would be great fun if she came along to join us tomorrow on our exploration of the city, ” she explained.
    “I am sure it will be a pleasure to have Madame join us,” Hart said with perfect gentility. “Will Monsieur le Baron be joining us also?”
    The girl had the audacity to look briefly melancholy at the question.
    “Alas, no, monsieur. My husband has been dead this past year and seven months. I am only recently out of grey gloves.”
    “Most tragic. I find I must beg your pardon again.” He inclined his head solemnly, boldly holding her defiant gaze as he did so. She was clearly set on making a game of him.
    “Thank you, but that is quite unnecessary.”
    The ladies ordered chocolate and Hart interestedly watched Maggie’s interactions with Marie-Josette. The young woman exuded an air of confidence he would never have previously ascribed to her. The sudden change was remarkable, especially given that she had not even been in Paris a month.
    Always before he had always thought of her simply as Maggie, the girl who had followed them around as a child, and the waif who had watched him play battledore with Frederick just last month. Who was this beautiful stranger, and how had she bloomed without his having noticed? He found that he was completely entranced by the minx and her little masquerade.
    Well, Hart decided, he would humour her, and maybe even up the stakes.
    “In fact, the name de Gramont rings familiar to me. I think perhaps I knew your husband.”
    “Perhaps,” she said, non-committedly.
    “It is such a small world. My nephew is also only recently come to Paris, my dear,” the countess said. “Just like yourself. He normally stays in England. I believe you were in London for the start of the Season, Hartley? Are you certain you have never been introduced?”
    Maggie felt Hartley’s challenging gaze burn into her.
    “No I don’t believe we have occasioned to meet before now.”
    “Ah, but I believe that we have. Only in passing, though I am very certain that I recall your husband.”
    Her shoulders tensed a little. “Yes, it must have been in passing. Very briefly. Do you find that you like it in London, Monsieur?” Maggie asked, taking a sip of her chocolate.
    Hart found himself unable to look away from her soft, pink lips.
    “Very much,” he murmured. “Though I am certain you’ll agree that it has not quite the liveliness of Paris. Perhaps you will humour me, Madame, but my aunt has never told me how it was that you met? You certainly seem to have become fast cater cousins!”
    Marie-Josette laughed. “Why, Madame is a friend of Lady Strathavon. We met for the very first time just two days ago, and took a stroll in the Jardin des Tuileries . Madame was so good as not to take offence when one of my spaniels leapt on her yellow muslin.”
    Maggie chuckled at the memory. “Henri is a very dear thing.”
    The countess smiled at her. “Yes, I think so too. You know how I am, my dear Hartley –