“I do what I’m best at.” Smiling, she accepted a glass from a passing waiter. Shimmering white left her shoulders bare, then dipped low enough to be tantalizing before it closely followed the subtle, feminine curves. “Your home is everything it’s rumored to be.” She lifted the wine to her lips as her gaze passed over the dozens of antique mirrors that graced the walls. “And how clever of you to choose such a room to entertain a group of narcissistic actors.”

“We have our moments.” He looked beyond her for a moment, but still saw no sign of Hannah. “I saw your last movie. You were extraordinary.”

A woman who was accustomed to absorbing all of a man’s attention knew instinctively when she had only a part of it. Still, Chantel only smiled and speculated. “I’m still waiting for you to come back to Hollywood.”

“You seem to be keeping busy in the meantime.” He reached in his pocket for a box of matches to light her cigarette. “How do you manage to divide your time among tennis stars, oilmen and producers?”

Chantel tilted her head as she blew out a thin stream of smoke. “Oh, much the same way I imagine you divide yours among countesses, marchesas and—was it a barmaid in Chelsea?”

Laughing, Bennett dropped the matches back in his pocket. “Ma chère amie, if either of us enjoyed all the incredible and innumerable affairs the press gifts us with, we’d be hospitalized.”

With the true affection she felt for few men, Chantel touched a hand to his cheek. “To anyone else, I’d say speak for yourself. However, since we’ve never been lovers, regardless of the headlines to the contrary, I’ll ask you how things are for you, romantically speaking.”

“Confusing.” At that moment, in the oval glass over Chantel’s shoulder, he saw Hannah slip into the room. She looked like a dove lost in a group of peacocks. “Very confusing. Excuse me a moment, will you, love?”

“Of course.” She’d seen which direction his attention had taken. “Bonne chance, Bennett.”

A lifetime of experience allowed him to slip through the groups of people, exchanging a quick word, a smile or a murmured excuse without leaving any offense behind. Less than a minute after Hannah had settled into a corner, he was beside her.

“Bonsoir, Lady Hannah.”

“Your Highness.” She used his title and curtsied as protocol demanded. He caught her hands as she straightened, negating the formality.

“It’s usual, when a woman is late, that she makes an entrance rather than slip into a corner.”

Damn him for making her pulse skittish. Even as she tried to calm it again, she noted that more than one head was turned in their direction. So much for going unnoticed. “I prefer watching to being watched, sir.”