An Innocent In Paris. Barbara Cartland

arrived in the middle of the night. It must have been a dreadful experience not knowing Paris and having to find your way alone. I insisted that we should call and see how you are this morning. But I can see from looking at you that you are none the worse.”

      “I am quite all right now, thank you,” Gardenia pointed out.

      “Jolly good!” Bertram smiled.

      Gardenia realised suddenly that he was still holding her hand and took it hastily away.

      “My cousin and I now wondered if you would like to come and drive with us,” Bertram suggested. “I am just going to take my horses for a turn in the Bois de Boulogne and I feel sure that the air will do you good.”

      Gardenia looked to where in the drive there was a very elegant dog cart in the very latest fashion, painted yellow and black with the tandem of black horses with plaited manes and tails.

      “How lovely!” she exclaimed involuntarily. “How smart they look.”

      “I am indeed very proud of them,” Bertram said. “All the same, if you prefer it, I have a motor car.”

      “I much prefer horses,” Gardenia told him, “but I am afraid I cannot come for a drive today. Aunt Lily has planned to take me – ”

      She was going to say where they were going, but changed her mind. “ – out with her.”

      “You have seen your aunt?” Lord Hartcourt asked her.

      Gardenia felt that again he was querying her reception and, recalling how greatly she had resented his advice the night before, she answered rather stiffly.

      “Of course. I am glad to say Aunt Lily is delighted to see me. I am going to stay here with her.”

      It seemed to her and she did not understand why, that on the last words Lord Hartcourt’s face altered.

      It was almost but, of course, that was absurd, as if there was a look of disappointment in his eyes.

      “How delightful for you,” he replied in a rather bored tone and turning to his cousin said, “Well, Bertie, if Miss Weedon will not come with us, we must be on our way.”

      “Miss Weedon, I shall hope to see you again very shortly,” Bertram said. “As a matter of fact, I believe your aunt has invited me to a party tomorrow night. I promise you, nothing shall keep me away.”

      “I shall be very glad to see you,” Gardenia answered. “Goodbye.”

      Lord Hartcourt said nothing. It seemed to her that there was something almost aggressive in the manner that he clapped his hat on his head, walked resolutely down the steps in front of Bertram and climbed into the dogcart.

      Bertram made to follow him and then turned back.

      “Quite sure that you will not change your mind?” he said in a low voice to Gardenia. “I would like to be one of the first to show you Paris.”

      “No. I cannot come today,” Gardenia replied, “and anyway, I should have to ask Aunt Lily first.”

      “Come tomorrow,” Bertram pleaded. “I am sure that the Duchesse will not mind. I will fetch you about this time. Do you promise?”

      “I cannot promise anything,” Gardenia replied, a little embarrassed by his insistence.

      “But you must try and arrange it.”

      And then, before she could answer, he had run down the steps and was climbing into the dog cart to take the reins in his hands.

      As the tandem drove off, Bertram waved at the turn of the drive, but Lord Hartcourt sat looking straight ahead of him and he did not look back.

      ‘I think he is extremely disagreeable,’ Gardenia said to herself. ‘And I cannot think why but he seems to disapprove of me.’

      As she followed Yvonne upstairs, she thought that she would ask the Duchesse if she could go driving with Mr. Bertram Cunningham the next day. It was not anything she would be allowed to do in England without a chaperone but obviously, as he had invited her, things must be different in Paris.

      She had always heard that there was much more license in the gay City and so after all why should one need a chaperone to go driving in an open dogcart with a man who would be preoccupied with handling a tandem with skill? It might be different if he asked her to go out in his motor car.

      Gardenia remembered that she had heard all sorts of stories about girls who were enticed away on long drives by a man owning a smart motor car and then, after they had refused his advances, had been obliged to walk home.

      She somehow felt that Bertram Cunningham was not that type of man. He looked young and jolly and full of fun and, she thought rather wistfully, that it would be exciting to be with someone of her own age, to laugh and be gay and not have to worry about bills or where the next meal was to come from.

      Yvonne was leading her up the stairs to the second floor. She passed her aunt’s bedroom and went to the end of the passage, where Yvonne opened the door of a room. It was a large room and every wall was fitted with cupboards.

      “This is Her Grace’s wardrobe,” Yvonne pronounced and started to open the doors to reveal more dresses than Gardenia imagined any woman would have in a lifetime let alone have collected all at one time.

      *

      Driving towards the Bois de Boulogne after negotiating the heavy traffic round the Arc de Triomphe, Bertram exclaimed,

      “An attractive little thing indeed and not at all the sort of niece that one would expect the redoubtable Lily to possess.”

      “You yourself told me she came from a decent family,” Lord Hartcourt reminded him.

      “Well, that is what my father used to say,” Bertram replied. “What do you think Lily will do with the girl?”

      “Apparently Miss Weedon has every intention of staying with her aunt. I learnt last night that she was a very determined young woman,” Lord Hartcourt commented drily.

      “Determined?” Bertram exclaimed. “That little English sparrow? Why, she looks as if she has only just fallen out of the nest. I don’t think she is determined about anything. But she would be attractive if she was properly dressed.”

      “I imagine the Duchesse will see to that,” Lord Hartcourt murmured.

      “The whole thing seems a mystery,” Bertram continued. “This girl comes over, she looks innocent, yet Lily accepts her and apparently she is going to be one of the household. I should not be surprised if André is right and the whole thing is a new stunt. It all seems a bit fishy to me.”

      “I expect there is a perfectly good explanation if we but knew it,” Lord Hartcourt said in a bored voice.

      “Damn it all, Vane! You are never excited about anything,” Bertram complained. “It will rather amuse me to show the girl a bit of life in Paris. I am fed up with all the blasé collection at Maxim’s. Do you know, when Henry gave Yvette a good diamond bracelet last week, she handed it back to him and said the stones were not big enough.”

      “Well, Henry can certainly afford big ones.”

      “Yes, but think of the ingratitude of it. None of them are pleased with anything. It is like Marie, whom I took out for a while. She was always complaining, the caviar was not fresh, the champagne was corked, the seat uncomfortable and the orchids I gave her were the wrong colour! I was fed up and dropped her and now poor old Oswald has taken her on. He does not know what he is in for. I don’t mind girls costing money. After all what else is there really to spend it on? But I do expect them to show some sort of appreciation.”

      “Poor Bertie. I cannot believe that all your efforts go unrewarded.”

      “I suppose you will claim I am mean if I say I like value for my expenditure,” Bertram said, turning his head to smile at his cousin. “And I know