From her seat, Charlie could see out the main window to the entrance and wide, curved driveway. Excited guests in couture dresses and tuxedos spilled from town cars, grabbed martinis and flutes of champagne and gasped in delight as they were ushered through the arches into the reception room, where twenty gorgeous women waited in poses that suggested they were being painted: straps fell off shoulders, seams pulled away to hint at a breast, legs were stretched long to poke out under hems. It felt like a scene from one of the many famous oil paintings on the walls, which was exactly Violet’s intention.
As guests started to move around the vast room, the models switched positions and threw alluring looks so people would step closer and admire the cloth and the cut.
Violet drove shy Aleksandr through the crowd, introducing him and encouraging him to talk about how he would create a bespoke dress for each woman. There was no talk of money, just colours that suited, possible pleats and gathers and hemline lengths. Charlie stood and turned, hands on her hips, so a spry middle-aged woman could look at the fall of her dress.
Aleksandr pointed to Charlie’s hip. ‘We can change this so it pulls in on you.’
And the woman replied, ‘What I would give for those round hips. I’ll have whatever she’s got!Salut!’
Aleksandr and the client clinked champagne flutes as Violet looked on, beaming with pride. She kept close to Aleksandr as everyone circled, hem of her long gold dress gathered in one hand and champagne flute tucked into the other.
As Aleksandr pointed to the details of Charlie’s dress and discussed swatches with his prospective client, Charlie looked up to see Detective Allard standing at the entrance arch, watching her. His eyes widened when their gazes met, and he bowed his head in a modest greeting.
Violet turned to see what was happening and tapped Aleksandr on the elbow gently, moving the guest to the next model.
Charlie made her way across the vast room, ignoring the admiring stares of guests, to where Detective Allard stood. She greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks and breathed in his now-familiar scent of sandalwood. He looked dashing in his tuxedo. She smiled warmly as he took in the room, then Charlie in her dress.
‘I’ve been wondering if you’d get here,’ she said as she dropped her hem and smoothed the tasselled peplum over her hips. She felt like a movie star—the diaphanous silk hugged her body in all the right places, spaghetti straps showing off her shoulders and décolletage before the material plunged into a diamond brooch at the bust.
Allard’s eyes glistened with approval. ‘I wasn’t sure I would. These cases …’ He scratched his curls in frustration. He looked so attractive.
Charlie swallowed and silently admonished herself for such inappropriate thoughts. He was a colleague.
She put out her arm and said, ‘Allow me to introduce you to thecrème de la crèmeof Paris society.’
For the next two hours, Charlie and Allard circled among the guests. The women were titillated by the fact Detective Allard was a working police officer and did what they could to pluck imaginary threads off his arm as they cajoled him to spill details of cases he was working on.
‘A detective never reveals his secrets,’ Lady Ashworth said as she rescued him time and time again from curious women desperate for gossip to take back to Paris along with their silk samples.
Eventually, Charlie found herself standing with Allard under an enormous Venetian chandelier.
‘How was your evening? I’m glad I asked you to come with me—you’re quite the talk of the town!’
Allard gave a wry smile. ‘That’s what I was afraid of. Everyone wants to know details of gory murders. If only they knew the paperwork my team have to sort through.’
‘Did you tell them they can read all about it inThe Times?’ She grinned.
‘You are incorrigible, Charlie James.’
‘I am. I’m afraid, however, my one and only time as an haute couture house model has come to a close. I confirm I cannot stand in these heels any longer and my bed beckons.’ She regretted her words as soon as she’d said them.
She shivered as a gust of wind shot in the door and Allard removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders as though he’d done it a million times before.
‘Should I arrange a car to take you to your hotel?’ He coughed and looked at the chandelier, saying as an afterthought, ‘I wonder how many crystals there are?’
‘Not enough for Lady Ashworth. Or Violet, for that matter.’ Charlie looked across to where the women were deep in conversation with Aleksandr and hoped the night had been a success for the trio. Violet turned a fraction and gave an enthusiastic wave goodbye, letting Charlie know it was fine for her to leave. Charlie sighed, then rolled her eyes as Violet tilted her head subtly towards Detective Allard and gave Charlie a sly wink.
Charlie waved and turned towards Allard, hoping he hadn’t seen Violet’s gestures.
‘You go. I’m staying here, across the driveway at the little gatehouse. I’m shattered.’ She led him towards the front door and they made a hasty escape from the chatter and music of the main room. It sounded like the party was gearing up a notch and Violet would be leading the charge. ‘If Violet has her way, she’ll be swinging from that chandelier in an hour.’
‘I believe you. She’s a firecracker.’
‘She is.’ Charlie yawned as they stepped out the front door and onto the gravel driveway.
Allard touched the small of her back. ‘Let me walk you to the gatehouse. My car is parked just outside the gates anyway. I wasn’tsure about the protocol for this evening.’ He smiled. ‘I’m not often invited to parties like this. Are you?’
‘Thanks to my job, and Violet, yes. But only in Paris.’ She held up a finger. ‘I can promise you the parties back home in Sydney are nowhere near as swanky as this.’