“Well, he’s a Frenchman, darling, and absolutely gorgeous. And a marquis to boot.” She grabbed my arm. “Ooh, there he is now. Look, over there. Coming toward us. Finally he remembers who I am.”

And there was the Marquis de Ronchard, coming toward us with an expectant smile on his face. Of course, I thought. He’s seen Belinda. And I felt a small stab of disappointment.

“Ah, there you are, you little minx,” he said to me. “I have good news to report. Madame Chanel will be more than delighted to design a gown especially for you. What is more, it will be a present to thank you for participating in her fashion show.” He appeared to notice Belinda for the first time. “And who is your charming friend? Please introduce us.”

“My best friend from school days, Belinda Warburton-Stoke,” I said. “Belinda, may I present the Marquis de Ronchard.”

“Enchanté, mademoiselle,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it. “Any friend of Lady Georgiana’s is a friend of mine.”

I then expected that he would whisk Belinda away to a tête-à-tête. Instead he put his arm around me. “What do you say—shall we go and play the tables now?”

“Oh, someone was actually getting me a drink,” I said. “That young man over there.”

Jean-Paul waved this away. “He can give the drink to your delightful friend instead. I intend to keep you for myself. Come, roulette is calling. I have a feeling that you will bring me good luck tonight.” He bowed to Belinda. “Mademoiselle, I hope you will excuse us, but I have been trying to lure this enchanting young lady away all evening and now I seize my chance. The young man who now approaches will be delighted to keep you entertained, I’m sure.”

And he whisked me away past an astonished Belinda. I tried not to grin like a schoolgirl. For once in my life the attractive man had chosen me over Belinda and over my mother. Maybe it was because of the Chanel outfit. Maybe clothes did make the woman after all!

Jean-Paul de Ronchard steered me through the crowd to a large gaming room. As we progressed he nodded and exchanged greetings with almost everyone we passed. I was still in a state of shock that I had beaten out Belinda and my mother. A small warning voice at the back of my brain whispered that this was a dangerous Frenchman, but at the moment I didn’t care. As we arrived at the roulette table a place was vacated and Jean-Paul steered me toward it. The man who was leaving, with a sizeable stack of chips, turned toward us and I saw it was Darcy.

He recognized me at the same moment and his eyes lit up. “Georgie—well, I’m damned. What are you doing here?”

“Good evening, Mr. O’Mara,” I said, fighting to keep my voice even.