“But of course. Your figure is made for Chanel. The boyish look. No curves at all. I find it delightfully fresh.” And he looked at me in a way that made me feel quite strange. It was almost as if he were making love to me with his eyes. “When you have decided on the gown, I will take you out to dine and dance in it. It will be a christening ceremony, no?”

“We probably won’t choose a gown for her until we get back to Paris,” Mummy said in a clipped voice. “Chanel does not carry around suitcases of her clothes, you know.”

“She can design a dress for you right here, I am sure, if you ask her nicely,” the marquis said. “I know of a good little seamstress who can run it up for her in an instant. Where is Coco? Ah, over there. I shall go and arrange the whole thing for you.”

And he went. Mummy looked at me half angrily, half admiringly. “I must say, you pulled off that little stunt rather well, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t tell him you were my mother,” I reminded her. “My silence can be bought.”

“You’ve grown up,” she said. “That Darcy O’Mara obviously taught you a thing or two.” Then she laughed. “Still, you are more fun this way. I was worried for a while that you’d turn out to be boring. And I rather believe the gentleman is interested in you.”

“Do you think so?”

“Darling, he was positively undressing you with his eyes. But beware. He’s not an Englishman. He’ll have you into bed before you know what’s happening to you.”

“Is that what you hoped would happen to you?” I asked.

“You are becoming very cheeky,” she said, but she laughed again. Then she sighed. “I must admit that a little fling might add some spice to my dreary little life. I do sometimes long for someone with a little more joie de vivre than Max. He can be so boring out of the bedroom.”

“The fact that you don’t speak German and he doesn’t speak much English hardly makes for witty conversation.”