The wheel spun, slowed and landed on twenty-two. This time the amount of chips was impressive. Jean-Paul pushed them over to me.

“What is your system for doing that?” I asked.

He laughed. “Sometimes a little luck doesn’t hurt either. Now I leave it to you.”

I started to play as he had instructed. And kept winning steadily. Not every time, but enough to make that pile of chips grow. Each time I won, I looked up at Jean-Paul and he smiled at me. He really had a wonderful smile. Now I found myself wondering how the evening might end. If Jean-Paul offered to drive me home and took me to his villa instead—well, that could only mean one thing. And was that what I really wanted?

“He has to settle down sometime,” Coco had said. He was rich and attractive and a marquis. What more did I want?

The question was settled for me by the arrival of my mother, followed by Coco and Vera. “There she is.” I heard my mother’s voice behind me. “And look how well she’s been doing too. You must have been coaching her, Jean-Paul.”

“On the contrary, she has a natural feel for the game,” Jean-Paul said. “A very talented young woman. I must thank you ladies for introducing us. Now I think my time in Nice will be most pleasant.”

“Well, we’ve come to take her away from your clutches,” Vera said. “Claire has sent for her car, so it’s time to say adieu.”

Jean-Paul took my hand. “I would be happy to drive her home later.”

“She’s had a very long and tiring day, haven’t you, my sweet?” my mother said, her eyebrows raised in warning.

Much as I was tempted to show my mother that I was no longer a little girl who needed to be protected, I realized this was true. I had had a long and tiring day. I was exhausted. I had once fallen asleep when Darcy tried to make love to me. I rather feared the same thing would happen if Jean-Paul tried to seduce me tonight. Not an auspicious start to a relationship.

I got to my feet. “I really must go home now, Jean-Paul. Thank you for a lovely evening.”

He kissed my hand. “Until we meet again, ma chérie,” he said. “And don’t forget to cash in those chips.”

“Oh, no, it was your money.”

He stacked the chips into a rack. “No, no. They are your winnings. Now, no arguing and off you go.”

As I headed for the cashier’s booth, while the other women went outside to meet the car, I found that I was standing next to Sir Toby Groper. The chips in his pile were of a much higher denomination than mine.

“A good evening, Sir Toby?” the cashier asked.