The Daughters of Nightsong. V. J. Banis

      “When do I meet this Monsieur Andrieux?” she asked, turning to Morris.

      “Perhaps dinner together. I could arrange....”

      “No,” Lydia said, cutting him off. “This is a business matter not a social one. And I think the fewer people who see us together, under the circumstances, the better. You’re sure you’ve checked him thoroughly?”

      “Thoroughly,” Morris assured her.

      “Then arrange for him to come to my home late Thursday morning when I know most of the business people on Nob Hill will be in their offices.”

      * * * *

      Raymond Andrieux came as a complete surprise. He was an extremely good-looking man, tall and young and well-built, with deep green eyes, chiseled features of perfect proportions and a wide, agreeable smile. Like so many Frenchmen, Raymond had a thick head of deep black hair that waved down across his forehead. He had a sensual look about him. His masculinity was overpowering, yet it was toned by smooth delicate olive skin and graceful eyebrows as dark as his hair.

      His eyes laughed when he took Lydia’s hand and touched it to his lips. “Enchanté, Madame.”

      He was as charming as he was handsome, Lydia noted after chatting for half an hour. She liked his friendly nature. She admired his self-assurance. She didn’t think him callous or brazen, but she was certain he was the type of man who did whatever he set out to do, regardless of who got hurt in the bargain. She was not sure she liked that, but she respected it.

      “And your obligations to Mr. MacNair?” Lydia asked.

      Raymond shrugged. “But what obligations, Madame Nightsong? There are none. I feel he brought me to America under false pretenses.”

      “False pretenses?”

      “He represented to me that he had a scent that was incapable of diagnosis, a scent he claimed would revolutionize the perfume industry. Unfortunately, he has nothing but ordinary essences that are, forgive my bluntness, commonplace, très de deuxième qualité, very second rate.”

      Lydia hesitated, then got up. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, Monsieur Andrieux, I have something that may interest you.” She started out of the room just as April appeared in the doorway.

      April said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Mother, I didn’t know you had company.”

      “April,” Lydia said, smiling as she turned to Raymond. “My daughter, Monsieur Andrieux.”

      “Mademoiselle,” he said, letting his eyes move slowly over this ravishingly beautiful young woman.

      He looked at her in a way that made April frown. It was as if he were thinking impure thoughts as he undressed her with his eyes. She blushed and managed, “How do you do.” Even the touch of his lips on her hand made her want to pull back.

      Raymond smiled at Lydia. “Very beautiful,” he said. “So like her mother. But I must confess it is difficult to believe that you are mother and daughter.”

      April didn’t care much for the fake smile. And she hardly looked anything like her mother. There was something false about the man, she decided, as she turned to her mother. “I was just going out.”

      “Very well, but try to be home early. I’m not going into the office today. Perhaps you’d like to go to the theatre this evening. Bernhardt is appearing as Camille at the California Theatre.”

      Raymond said, “Magnificent performance. You will not regret seeing it.”

      April said, “We’ll see. I must hurry, Mother. Very nice meeting you, Monsieur.” She let him kiss her hand again but disliked it intensely.

      “Charming girl. Charming.”

      There was something disturbing about the way he hooded his eyes as he looked after April. “Well,” Lydia said when they were alone, “excuse me, please. I’ll only be a moment.”

      She removed the small vial that she’d guarded all these many years, the bottle that contained the essence made especially for the Dowager Empress of China. Lydia uncapped it as seldom as possible for fear its intoxicating aroma would gradually vanish.

      When she handed the vial to Raymond he looked questioningly at the tiny bottle. “Oriental. Chinese to be precise. Sung Dynasty, I would say.” He carefully lifted the stopper and sniffed. His brows knit together as he studied the aroma. He smelled it again and gradually his face began to light up.

      “Magnificent,” he breathed. He smelled it again briefly before he recapped the vial. “But the essence is definitely not Sung Dynasty. Very new. It was concocted no more than ten years ago, perhaps less.”

      “Do you think you could duplicate it?” Lydia asked, trying not to appear too anxious.

      Raymond shrugged. “It is possible. Unfortunately, the oriental blossoms are sometimes difficult to identify. It’s a question of how the essential oils were extracted and distilled. On first guess, I would say that what we call the enfleurage method was employed, but it is merely a guess. I would need a laboratory to find out for certain.”

      Lydia beamed as she took away the vial. “I have whatever you will need, Monsieur Andrieux,” she said. “And, I’m familiar with the Chinese method of enfleurage.”

      He let a sly twinkle spark his eye. “If we are to be working together, perhaps you would honor me by calling me Raymond.” He reached for her hand.

      “Raymond,” she said, feeling a slight tremor run through her as his lips touched her skin. “And you don’t think Mr. MacNair will prove a problem?”

      “As I said, Madame, I am not interested in the MacNair products, while with you I find myself surrounded by magnificent temptations.”

      She was not altogether displeased with his flirtatious manner. It had been a long time since she’d appreciated a man looking at her the way Raymond Andrieux was. “If you don’t have to rush off, perhaps you’d care to stay for lunch, Monsieur....”

      He raised a warning finger.

      “Raymond,” she said with a laugh.

      “I’d be delighted.”

      “I’ll put this away if you’ll excuse me,” she said, clasping the vial.

      She was so elated she scarcely felt the floor under her feet. She was certain he’d be able to duplicate Nightsong and from then on there would be no limit to what she could do.

      As she replaced the vial in the safe she kept telling herself that Raymond had to reproduce the essence...he just had to.

      When she turned to leave the room Raymond Andrieux was standing blocking the doorway.

      “I am sorry,” he said. “I was looking for some place to wash my hands.”

      Lydia felt suddenly nervous, yet she could not deny that a part of her was flattered. “Yes, of course,” she stammered. “It is the second door down that hallway.”

      He didn’t move.

      There was no mistaking the look in his eyes. She’d seen it before in other men’s eyes.

      “We haven’t discussed pay,” Raymond said with an immodest smile.

      “I doubt if that will be a problem. My company turns a very nice profit. I am sure we can agree upon a figure.”

      He eyed her brazenly and she found herself enjoying their little game. Raymond said, “Of course money is of importance but there are other things.”

      He took a step toward her. “I would be very reluctant to even consider analyzing the perfume without some kind of an understanding.” His smile was intoxicating. “I have the exceptional talent of remembering a fragrance once I’ve inhaled it. It sticks inside my head. I have difficulty getting rid of it until I’ve copied it.”

      Lydia