imagined. And yet she could not help being curious and fascinated.
What on earth would he do next?
He drew her arm through his and led her toward the house.
I have a ring for you, my love, but I will not give it to you here. That would be playing to the gallery a little too much, I think. Will you dine with me in Paris tonight? I would like to put my diamond on your finger down by the river. Rivers are always so romantic, I think, don’t you? And the Seine especially so.”
“Oh, Raoul, why do you tease like this? It’s ridiculous. When you know that in a few weeks we shall have to tell everybody that our engagement is broken off.”
“Excellent. You pronounced my name well, chérie .”
“I wish you’d answer my question.”
“Certainly. I am not teasing, Adrien. Never in my life did I feel less like teasing.”
Startled, she looked up at him.
“Then I don’t understand your attitude. I realize you must take my arm and bend over me in an—an affectionate way, because people may be watching from windows and we are expected to behave like an engaged couple. And now we have started these things, it is important to go through with them. I know I must go out to dinner with you.”
“Is this such a penance?” he teased.
“Now you are laughing at me. You can’t deny it.”
“A little, perhaps.”
“But I’m serious. I realize, perhaps, I must even wear a ring. But when we are alone together, there is surely no need to keep up the pretense?”
“What pretense, chérie ?”
“The pretense that we—we’re in love.”
“Ah, but there is, mignonne. Surely you see it will be impossible for us to play our little comedy well enough to deceive the sharp eyes of Mrs. Renton, unless we put our hearts and souls into it? Unless, just for a short while, we almost believe in it ourselves.”
“But, Raoul ... ” she protested.
“Tell me, sweetheart—” he stopped on the doorstep, and putting his finger under her chin, raised her face to his—“is it really so difficult for you to pretend for a fortnight—a month, perhaps, that you are in love with me?”
“Dr. Dubois, I—”
“Raoul, please! You really must remember, Adrien.”
“Raoul, then.” She forced her eyes to meet his, bravely. “This is an impossible situation.”
“Quite so. Let us enjoy it, then. Impossible situations are always the most amusing, don’t you think? Trust me, little Adrien. I won’t do anything to hurt you. We won’t discuss things any more now. But tonight we can make plans. I will fetch you here at eight o’clock. D’accord? ”
“Very well. Tonight at eight—darling.”
She forced the last word out, for they had been mounting the stairs, and now they were entering Gillian’s room. Gillian heard it and smiled, but, as she watched them together, her eyes were puzzled.
That night Adrien dressed in the white and silver she had worn for Denise’s party. The party at which Raoul had played the Schubert Serenade, and she had learned his character possessed subtlety. That he had another side to him apart from that of the young, ambitious doctor, compassionate to his patients, ruthless with anyone who got in his way or did not measure up to his standards.
She was afraid the dress might not be suitable. She had no idea, really, what were Raoul’s plans for tonight. But she remembered he had admired her in it, and that gave her confidence. Made her feel beautiful, desirable, competent to deal with a difficult “mock fiancé ,” give as good as she got.
She heard the honk of his car horn, and ran downstairs swiftly, gracefully, her white silk cloak over her arm. Jeanne had admitted him, and he stood in the hall and watched her approaching. Just for a moment it seemed as though little flames, soft as a candle’s glow, gleamed deep in his eyes.
“Adrien my love,” he said, “you are so beautiful.” He took her hand and kissed the palm, as a lover might do.
“Excuse me just a moment, Raoul. I must just
What on earth would he do next?
He drew her arm through his and led her toward the house.
I have a ring for you, my love, but I will not give it to you here. That would be playing to the gallery a little too much, I think. Will you dine with me in Paris tonight? I would like to put my diamond on your finger down by the river. Rivers are always so romantic, I think, don’t you? And the Seine especially so.”
“Oh, Raoul, why do you tease like this? It’s ridiculous. When you know that in a few weeks we shall have to tell everybody that our engagement is broken off.”
“Excellent. You pronounced my name well, chérie .”
“I wish you’d answer my question.”
“Certainly. I am not teasing, Adrien. Never in my life did I feel less like teasing.”
Startled, she looked up at him.
“Then I don’t understand your attitude. I realize you must take my arm and bend over me in an—an affectionate way, because people may be watching from windows and we are expected to behave like an engaged couple. And now we have started these things, it is important to go through with them. I know I must go out to dinner with you.”
“Is this such a penance?” he teased.
“Now you are laughing at me. You can’t deny it.”
“A little, perhaps.”
“But I’m serious. I realize, perhaps, I must even wear a ring. But when we are alone together, there is surely no need to keep up the pretense?”
“What pretense, chérie ?”
“The pretense that we—we’re in love.”
“Ah, but there is, mignonne. Surely you see it will be impossible for us to play our little comedy well enough to deceive the sharp eyes of Mrs. Renton, unless we put our hearts and souls into it? Unless, just for a short while, we almost believe in it ourselves.”
“But, Raoul ... ” she protested.
“Tell me, sweetheart—” he stopped on the doorstep, and putting his finger under her chin, raised her face to his—“is it really so difficult for you to pretend for a fortnight—a month, perhaps, that you are in love with me?”
“Dr. Dubois, I—”
“Raoul, please! You really must remember, Adrien.”
“Raoul, then.” She forced her eyes to meet his, bravely. “This is an impossible situation.”
“Quite so. Let us enjoy it, then. Impossible situations are always the most amusing, don’t you think? Trust me, little Adrien. I won’t do anything to hurt you. We won’t discuss things any more now. But tonight we can make plans. I will fetch you here at eight o’clock. D’accord? ”
“Very well. Tonight at eight—darling.”
She forced the last word out, for they had been mounting the stairs, and now they were entering Gillian’s room. Gillian heard it and smiled, but, as she watched them together, her eyes were puzzled.
That night Adrien dressed in the white and silver she had worn for Denise’s party. The party at which Raoul had played the Schubert Serenade, and she had learned his character possessed subtlety. That he had another side to him apart from that of the young, ambitious doctor, compassionate to his patients, ruthless with anyone who got in his way or did not measure up to his standards.
She was afraid the dress might not be suitable. She had no idea, really, what were Raoul’s plans for tonight. But she remembered he had admired her in it, and that gave her confidence. Made her feel beautiful, desirable, competent to deal with a difficult “mock fiancé ,” give as good as she got.
She heard the honk of his car horn, and ran downstairs swiftly, gracefully, her white silk cloak over her arm. Jeanne had admitted him, and he stood in the hall and watched her approaching. Just for a moment it seemed as though little flames, soft as a candle’s glow, gleamed deep in his eyes.
“Adrien my love,” he said, “you are so beautiful.” He took her hand and kissed the palm, as a lover might do.
“Excuse me just a moment, Raoul. I must just
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