Page 32 of All the Gossip from Paris (Royal Fashion #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY

A gentle snow was falling as the Royal sisters and Collins brothers set out for the short walk to the nearby village of Marly-le-Roi later that evening.

She might well be missing the warmth of the Caribbean but there was something magical about being rugged up against the winter chill. Walking arm in arm with Camille through the cobblestone streets of the old town, Sophie barely noticed the cold.

Some of the smaller stores had pretty Christmas decorations in their windows. Sophie made a point of stopping to look in each and every one as they passed by.

She was deliberately taking her time. Allowing the gap between them and the Collins brothers, who were walking ahead, to grow wider.

Soon the men were out of earshot.

“So what’s the deal with you and Liam?” asked Camille.

Of course her sister wanted to know. Especially after catching them in that kiss. Camille would be eager to find out every single detail of what was going on between her twin and her new brother in law.

Sophie had had weeks to come up with a plausible explanation about that night in New York.

But what had started out as a one night mistake had transformed into something else.

She was struggling to put a name to that something else.

The only thing she did know for certain was that lying to Camille was never a good idea. Only the truth would do.

“Liam and I spent the night together in New York.”

Her sister’s grip on her arm tightened, and Camille exclaimed. “What! You sneaky pair. That was months ago. And you’re only telling now?”

“Keep your voice down,” whispered Sophie.

The men were well out of hearing range. She didn’t want them to suddenly realize that fact and come back to where she and Camille now stood.

“It was meant to be a one night stand. But we sort of threw the rulebook away once Mama and Papa left. Liam’s a fabulous guy. Though I doubt he is looking for anything serious in the way of a relationship. His former fiancée burned him pretty badly.”

“Yeah, she did a number on him alright. Then again, you might just be in the right place at the right time. I’m a fairly recent convert to that way of thinking,” replied Camille. She was beaming as she gave her swollen belly a rub.

“I don’t know. Things are complicated. He has his career. I am trying to get somewhere with Papa in the atelier. Not to mention that Patrice is still hanging around.” Sophie let out a sigh. She wasn’t sure what to think about anything at the moment.

“I have no answer when it comes to our father. I just know that if either of us were one of the Royal brothers we would have been given our shot a long time ago. And as for Patrice, how can you even consider him to be in the mix?” said Camille.

Pulling up the sleeve of her coat, Sophie revealed the bracelet Patrice had gifted to her earlier that morning. “He gave me this for Christmas. Along with one of those stupid t-shirts we usually hand out on the island.”

She wasn’t entirely sure why she was still wearing the bracelet—it just seemed disingenuous to receive such an expensive gift and not to wear it at least once.

“So does Liam know this thing between you has a definite end date? I’d hate to see either of you hurt,” replied Camille.

“He will be leaving Paris sometime in January. I think we both know that the clock is ticking.”

The men had reached the front door of the tiny restaurant, and were now waiting for them. Sophie turned to Camille. “Just let Liam and I sort things out between us please. We are adults. We don’t need either you or Ryan to start practicing your parental skills with us.”

Camille nodded. “Ok. But if you want to talk. I’m here.”

“Thanks. Now let’s get inside into the warmth, and stuff ourselves with some fabulous food. But go easy on the dessert. As soon as we get home from midnight mass, I’m going to give everyone a big slice of my B?che de Noel.”

“Sounds perfect.”

* * *

The tiny restaurant housed inside a seventeenth century building served simple but utterly delicious food.

Liam wanted to lick the last of the roasted artichokes and wild garlic cream from his plate.

It had been forever since he’d enjoyed such perfectly prepared vegetables.

He could have sworn the taste buds on his tongue were doing a happy dance in delight.

He silently cursed himself for having spent the past couple of years avoiding good restaurants, and wonderful food. If he was ever going to get back on the culinary horse, he couldn’t think of a better place to do it than here in France. A country where food was taken seriously as an artform.

This afternoon he’d watched with fascination as Sophie had taken what was basically a plain chocolate covered cake and transformed it into something which looked like a log.

She’d skillfully worked with colored ganache frosting to create the decorations.

There were pine fronds, red and white mushrooms, and tiny little red holly berries.

The crowning piece was the icing sugar which she carefully misted over the top of the cake.

It looked like snow had fallen on the log.

Seated next to him on the overstuffed red fabric couch, Sophie cut up a piece of her white asparagus and handed Liam the fork. “This is one of the specialties of the house. You must try it.”

The moment the asparagus touched his tongue, Liam let out a hum of delight. He finished chewing the tasty morsel, and smiled at Sophie. “That was amazing. If I lived at the chateau, I’d dine at this place every night.”

“But then you’d have to deal with our head chef at home. He doesn’t take kindly to us sneaking off and eating in the local village,” remarked Camille.

On the other side of the table his brother and wife were finishing their meals. It hadn’t escaped his notice that they kept exchanging furtive looks. At some point the subject of him and Sophie would be raised—it was unavoidable.

He wasn’t sure what he would say if and when he was asked. The last thing he wanted was to upset Camille in her pregnant condition, or incur the wrath of his brother. Lord knew he’d caused them both enough trouble already.

But this wasn’t just about him. Whether she liked it or not, Sophie had skin in this game.

The server came and began clearing their plates away. Liam took a sip of his wine, all the while doing his best to come up with another topic of conversation—one which would keep people’s minds off the subject of him and Sophie.

“So how long are you two planning on staying in France?” he asked. The parents to be hadn’t shared their plans for where they would be when the baby arrived.

Ryan reached out and took a hold of his wife’s hand. “We’ve been talking about it for the past month or so. Basically ever since we got here. And we think…”

Camille smiled sweetly at her husband. “We think I will have the baby here in Paris. Mama is adamant that her first grandchild should be born in France. And since we will eventually go back to the US to live and raise our family, it makes sense she gets her wish.”

A diplomatic answer to the thorny question of having family on both sides of the North Atlantic.

“Mom and dad will fly over as soon as the baby is born, and come stay here at the chateau,” added Ryan.

“So none of your brothers have children?” asked Liam. Until that moment it hadn’t occurred to him that Camille and Ryan’s child would be the first of the Royal babies.

Sophie snorted. “God no. They are far too busy building careers or chasing the Formula One global circus. None of them seem serious about settling down. I think Mama and Papa secretly had their hopes pinned on me and Patrice being the first to give them grandchildren.”

She set her knife and fork on her plate. “Merci,” she said to the server as he bent and picked it up.

So things between her and her ex had been that serious, had they? Serious enough that Francois and Marina had expected Sophie would be married before Camille. The thought of Sophie marrying that ass Patrice had Liam feeling sick to the stomach.

Little wonder Patrice kept sniffing around Sophie. He’d thought he had secured the golden ticket to join the Royal family. But he’d messed it up. And he was still trying to find a way back.

That diamond bracelet must have cost him a pretty penny.

The waiter returned to their table. “The next course for tonight is the Selle d’agneau r?tie, petits pois et fèves, jus d’agneau infusé à la menthe. I shall go ask the chef to start preparations.”

As soon as he was gone, Sophie leaned over and whispered. “Roast lamb with peas and beans. Served with a mint jus. But of course it sounds so much better in French.”

She was right; it really did. The thought of cooking had Liam wondering if the big box of cookbooks he’d hidden away in the top of his parent’s garage was still there.

I might go check once I get back to the US.

Liam tried to think about food. About the wonderful way the meal had been prepared. But his mind kept coming back to the thought of Sophie and her ex. Of the little moment they’d shared earlier.

Had Patrice decided Liam posed too much of a threat? Did Sophie somehow need reminding as to whom she would eventually end up marrying?

“Hey, let’s take a group pic and we can share it on socials. I know mom and dad would love to see their boys on Christmas Eve,” said Ryan.

It was a little after four o’clock in the afternoon in New Jersey.

Brenda Collins would be coming off her last pre-Christmas shift at the hospital.

As soon as she got home, she’d be busy scrolling through social media.

A photo showing her sons enjoying Christmas Eve dinner and wishing them a happy holidays would be the perfect touch.

Liam grabbed his cell phone out of his coat. “Did we all want to come and sit together? I can take a selfie for us.”

Camille rose from her seat and immediately dropped onto her husband’s lap. Liam moved around to the other side of the table, shuffling onto the couch beside them. He and Sophie exchanged a brief look before she followed suit and came to join the rest of the group.

He would have been more than happy if she’d decided to sit on his lap, but they were in public, and Liam didn’t want to push things.

Seated beside him, Sophie sat forward on the bench seat.

As Liam lifted the phone to take a picture, Sophie counted them down.

“On the count of three. Un. Deux. Trois.”

“Joyeux Noel!” they all cried.

Liam snapped off a few photos. He opened Instagram and made a quick post. It was only as he hit the share button that he caught sight of Sophie’s arm. Of the diamond and silver bracelet which sparkled on her wrist.

She was still wearing the gift from Patrice.

It shouldn’t hurt him as much as it did. He didn’t own Sophie. She wasn’t his girlfriend. They were barely lovers. But it took all his inner strength not to cry out. Not to give voice to what had been slowly building in his heart over the past few days.

I damn well wish she was mine.

* * *

Liam was quiet all through the next course.

Sophie’s initial thoughts were that it was because the roasted saddle of lamb was simply that good.

Even she couldn’t recall the Royal family chef creating such a masterful dish.

But by the time the four of them had finished a shared platter of local cheeses, she was sure something else was seriously amiss.

On the short walk from the restaurant to the local church for the midnight mass, he said but few words to her. While Camille and Ryan went inside, Sophie took hold of the sleeve of Liam’s coat, and drew him aside.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked as they stood to one side of the snow dusted street. “You’ve been silent as the grave since mid-way through dinner. Did I say something to offend you?”

She couldn’t think what it might be, but the minds of men were mysterious things. Women at least tended to share their thoughts. There’d been enough emotionally unavailable men in her life for Sophie to know when something was up.

Liam stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. When he spoke it was to the patch of ice that sat on the path next to Sophie’s boots. He wouldn’t look at her.

“You’re wearing the bracelet he gave you. I know I shouldn’t be jealous of him. But I am.”

She’d sensed his anger earlier in the day when Patrice had given her the expensive gift. Could have sworn she heard Liam’s teeth grinding as he held back his temper. She hadn’t imagined he’d be worried about Patrice, or she would never have worn it out tonight.

I didn’t mean to hurt Liam.

Liam was jealous. If he had the slightest inkling as to how happy that made her feel, he wasn’t showing it. Perhaps he didn’t understand.

Sophie shifted on her feet, and Liam stirred from his study of the cobbled pavement. As their gazes met, she smiled softly at him. “You have nothing to be jealous about. Or insecure. Patrice is the one who is seething every time he sees you.”

“I kinda got that vibe from him.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t challenged you to a duel.”

Liam chuckled. “Is that a thing in the twenty first century? I mean I’ve seen them in movies. People don’t really fight them anymore, do they?”

She’d got him to laugh. It was a start. Maybe this evening could be salvaged.

“Patrice is an Olympic level fencer, but I doubt even he’d go through with actually killing you. He’s much more in favor of a withering look or a cutting remark.”

Knowing Patrice, he would consider it beneath him to kill someone like Liam. She wasn’t going to mention that unpleasant fact.

Liam gave a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I’ve been in a bit of a mood this evening—that’s not fair on you. It’s Christmas Eve. You have every right to wear a gift that someone gave you. Thank you for snapping me out of my funk,” said Liam.

It wasn’t entirely his fault. Liam was a lovely man, and she’d been thoughtless in wearing the gift from her ex.

After slipping the bracelet from her wrist, Sophie put it into her crossbody purse.

She would put it back in its box when she got home.

Tonight would be the first and last time she wore it.

Taking hold of Liam’s hand, she towed him toward the front steps of the church. “Come on, midnight mass is about to begin. Hopefully Cami and Ryan have been able to claim a spot for us next to them in the pew. When the church bells chime midnight, I want you right beside me.”