The Cinderella Moment Page 14

  It was extraordinary how good a pretty dress could make you feel, Angel thought, as she ran down the stairs. And how much harder it made remembering her resolve of appearing dull and tired and keeping the evening short.

  Nick stood up the moment she entered the drawing room and Angel couldn’t help noticing how good he looked in his dark-blue sports jacket, white linen shirt and trousers that just had to be Armani.

  “You look lovely. Ready to go?” asked Nick, gazing at her. He turned to the Comtesse with a smile. “I see you managed to find Lily something to wear, Godmother.”

  The Comtesse laughed. “Naturellement, what did you expect?”

  “Only the best, as usual, but I think you and Lily have exceeded expectations.”

  Angel felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but it wasn’t Nick’s compliment that made her blush. Lily! She had to remember that he thought she was Lily. She mustn’t allow herself to be beguiled by his compliments, her new dress or a dinner in Paris. And she definitely mustn’t think about how pleased the Comtesse looked at seeing them together.

  The masquerade was a wretched thing. It was bad enough deceiving Nick, but deceiving the Comtesse was worse.

  For a moment she was tempted to confess everything—right there in the middle of the drawing room—and then Nick held out his hand.

  “Shall we go?”

  Angel nodded. There’d be no confession tonight. For better or worse, she was going to dinner with Nick. It wasn’t ideal, but at least she’d see Paris.

  The Comtesse rose. “Bring Lily home by midnight, please Nicky. She has a fitting tomorrow morning and the polo in the afternoon. I think you are playing?”

  “Yes.” Nick grinned at Angel. “You’ll love it, Lily, we’re playing the—”

  “Why don’t you tell her all about it over dinner, Nicky,” said the Comtesse.

  ***

  Outside, Nick helped Angel into his black Mercedes convertible. “Okay with the top down?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  Nick got in and a moment later they were driving through Paris at night.

  “It’s not far,” said Nick.

  “Mmm,” was all Angel could think to say. What could you say when you were out (on a date?) with a guy who thought you were someone else?

  “How did you like dancing class?” asked Nick.

  “More than I thought I would,” replied Angel, grateful that on this subject at least she could be honest. “I was totally nervous, but Señor Martinez makes you feel like you can actually dance.”

  Nick laughed. “That’s Fred—my first class with him, I was two left feet and zero rhythm.”

  “Really?” Angel was surprised. That hadn’t been her impression while dancing with Nick. Quite the opposite. She thought of being in his arms and feeling the firmness of his chest as she’d followed his lead. How he’d held her hand in his, tenderly yet firmly, his other hand on her waist, pushing her away, pulling her close, moving as one. It had seemed pretty near perfect.

  What was she doing? Don’t think about him, she told herself. Just talk!

  “Have you had many lessons with Fred?”

  “Every summer season for the past three years. I should’ve learned at school, but I was so clumsy I always found a way to avoid that particular class.”

  “I can’t imagine you being clumsy.”

  “Couldn’t take two steps without falling over my own feet,” said Nick laughing. “I was sure you’d remember that—you used to tease me about it enough.”

  “I’m sorry, that wasn’t kind of me,” whispered Angel.

  “No, but I never minded because you were always nice to me afterwards.”

  “I was?”

  “Sure, in fact I think I used to fall over a lot more when you were around just so you’d be extra nice to me later.”

  “I sound awful,” said Angel, pulling a face.

  “No, you were fun.”

  She was surprised and Nick, seeing the look on her face, laughed and nodded. “You were, you know. You were the one bright spot in that awful summer. I remember it vividly because my parents had brought me to Paris to tell me they were getting a divorce and when summer was over I’d be going to boarding school.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Yes. I spent plenty of time at the Comtesse’s, while she was trying to get them to reconcile. You and I were together a lot.” He smiled. “You were so bright and funny, you made me feel better.”

  A wave of guilt washed over Angel. These memories weren’t meant for her. She had no idea what to say. She only knew that she couldn’t pretend to remember that summer when Lily and Nick had played together and she’d helped him forget his troubles for a while.

  She leaned her head back against the soft leather seat, let the night air flow across her face and tried to think of a safe topic. She found herself musing about Roman Holiday—her favorite movie in which Audrey Hepburn pretends to be an ordinary girl instead of a princess and has one marvellous day in Rome with Gregory Peck.

  I’m pretending, too, thought Angel. Except that it’s the other way round—I’m an ordinary girl pretending to be a princess, I’m lying to Nick Halliday instead of Gregory Peck and I’m in Paris not Rome.

  Angel sat up and looked around. She was definitely in Paris—right in the center of it! Nick had driven into the Étoile—the giant roundabout where twelve roads meet—and right in front of them was a huge marble archway with an enormous French flag waving gently from its centerpoint.

  “The Arc de Triomphe,” said Nick.

  Angel gazed at it in awe.

  “There’s a great view of Paris from the top. We could go up this weekend, if you’d like.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” replied Angel. She’d love to see Paris—although it was probably better not to see it with Nick.

  “Afterwards we could walk down the Champs Elysées to the Louvre.” Nick glanced at her. “If you wanted.”

  “I’ve always wanted to visit the Louvre,” said Angel, wishing she could think of a nice way to turn him down.

  “Great,” replied Nick, pleased. “There’s a painting I’d love you to see.”

  “La Joconde?” Angel asked. “I’ve always wanted to see that.”

  “Everyone wants to see the Mona Lisa,” replied Nick. “But da Vinci did another painting I like even better.”

  “He did?” asked Angel.

  “It’s probably my favorite painting in the whole museum. I’ll show you, rather than explain it.”

  With the Étoile now behind them, Nick turned into a maze of narrow side streets. Angel was wondering when they’d reach the restaurant when he pulled into the curb and switched off the engine.

  Swivelling in his seat, he faced her. “If you’re willing to battle the tourist hordes I’ll take you to see the Mona Lisa, too.”

  “That’s okay,” said Angel, wishing he wouldn’t look at her quite so intensely. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

  “I thought we decided it was a criminal offense to see Paris alone,” said Nick, reaching out and brushing an errant strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers were cool against her skin and Angel felt suddenly warm—warmer than the night air.

  “Shouldn’t we be going? We don’t want to be late.” She knew it was abrupt and awkward, but she couldn’t sit there a moment longer. Nick was too … too … She didn’t know exactly, only that she shouldn’t be alone with him.

  Nick jumped from the car. “You needn’t be afraid of me, you know,” he said as he helped her out.

  “I’m not,” she shot back. “It’s just that I—I don’t like being late. It’s—it’s one of my quirks,” she ended lamely.

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to mess with a quirk,” said Nick, grinning. “So let’s go.”

  They walked quickly down the street. As they turned the corner, Angel stopped. In front of her flowed the River Seine and, a few hundred yards away on the far bank, stood the Eiffel Tower. It was a stunning sight: the tall iron col
umn reaching upwards against the evening sky, its graceful curves and soaring arches illuminated by a million fairy lights.

  “Nice, isn’t it?” said Nick.

  “Nice? Oh no, it’s much, much better than nice.”

  “You’re right, it’s spectacular.” Taking her hand, Nick led her across the bridge.

  Angel looked around. She could see no sign of a restaurant, only a mass of people walking along the bank enjoying the warm evening.

  “Looks like it might rain,” said Nick, leading her through the crowd. “Lucky we can dance inside.”

  “Were we going to dance outside?” asked Angel, surprised.

  “There’s room on the foredeck.” He saw her puzzled look. “It’s dinner and dancing on a bateau-mouche.”

  It took Angel a second to remember that a bateau-mouche was a riverboat; they were having dinner on one of the famous Parisian pleasure-boats that took sightseers up and down the Seine.

  And there it was below them: an elegant white craft, with a wide wooden deck at the front and enormous glass windows that met overhead to form a transparent ceiling. Through the windows Angel could see candlelit tables laid out around a dance floor with a mirror ball above it and a DJ putting a record on a turntable.

  It looked wonderful.

  She and Nick hurried along the dock to join the crowd waiting beside the boat. As they drew near, Angel realized that they wouldn’t be dining alone.

  Kitty and the rest of the summer season gang were all waiting to board.

  Again, Angel felt that strange mixture of disappointment and relief as she realized that “dinner” with Nick was just another event in the summer season calendar.

  And, if the steady beat of the music pulsing out across the water was any indication, she was in little danger of intimate conversation. As they reached the others, the gangplank came down and the steward waved them aboard.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Angel had never been to a party like it. As the boat cruised slowly down the river she and the other guests danced, ate and danced some more. For the first time in her life Angel had no lack of partners. She danced with Nick several times, but also with Rémy, Sebastian and Giles and then with a string of boys whose names she didn’t even try to remember.

  It was a heady experience. Unlike the boys back home, the summer season boys were charming. They chatted with her, admired her dress and pointed out the different sights along the riverbanks. Between dances she’d run over to the window to watch another beautiful Parisian landmark glide by.

  She was looking out at Notre Dame when she felt someone beside her.

  Nick gestured towards the floodlit cathedral. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Magical.”

  As the boat drifted slowly past Notre Dame’s great rose window, Nick took her hand. Angel’s heart skipped a beat. The cathedral slid away behind them and she suddenly thought, I should tell him now.

  But Nick spoke first. “Lily, I wanted to ask you something.”

  He had a look on his face that filled Angel with panic. She couldn't let him say anything heartfelt—not when she was lying to him. She felt him pull her towards him and tried desperately to think of something to say.

  Just then the music changed and a familiar beat filled the room.

  ‘“Be My Lover!’” cried Angel.

  She heard Nick’s sharp intake of breath and saw his eyes widen before she realized what she’d said. Her cheeks burned.

  “The song!” she gasped. ‘“Be My Lover’ by La Bouche. It’s … it’s great for dancing!” And before Nick could speak, she plunged into the crowd on the dance floor.

  It felt like forever before she could look in Nick’s direction. When she did, she was relieved to see he’d stayed put. She needed time to recover from that moment of total humiliation. How could she have blurted out the song title like that? Angel cringed just thinking about it.

  The truth was she was out of her depth. She had no idea what he'd been about to say to her, she only knew she was in danger of falling into his arms if she stayed near him.

  It was torture dancing, but she forced herself to stay on the floor until the song finished.

  At last the DJ changed the music, but Angel’s heart sank as the first notes of “La Vie en Rose” filled the room and she saw Nick coming towards her. Not a slow dance. She couldn’t. Not with Nick.

  All around her couples were forming as he made his way through the crowd. He’d almost reached her when the redheaded girl stepped in front of him. Angel saw her hands run up his chest and rest on his shoulders. She suppressed a sudden spark of jealousy as Nick leaned in close to hear what the girl was saying.

  So the redhead liked Nick, did she? Good. Why should Angel care, anyway? This was what she’d wanted after all. With any luck he’d dance with her instead.

  She watched as Nick took the redhead's hands in his and began moving to the music.

  Angel had got her wish.

  Jealousy flared within her and she turned away. It was good that Nick liked the redhead but that didn't mean Angel had to stay and watch them together.

  She grabbed her handbag and headed outside.

  The night air felt cool after the closed atmosphere of the cabin. To her relief there was no one on the foredeck. Angel leaned on the railing and watched the water foam past. When she looked up, the great glass dome of the Grand Palais was almost opposite and above it she could make out a handful of stars shining faintly in the night sky.

  Her mind was in turmoil. What was she meant to do with these unwanted feelings? Nick's appearance in her life was so unexpected and the emotions he was arousing in her were so intense she wasn't sure how to handle them.

  She thought of the emotions she'd felt when Papa died—they'd been super intense and hard to bear. But this wasn't like that. This was something entirely new.

  ***

  The slow dance ended and Angel heard a chorus of cheers greet the opening bars of “Gangnam Style.” She sighed. It would’ve been fun to join in that silly dance. She imagined Nick and the redhead dancing it together—

  Someone touched her shoulder and she jumped.

  “It’s only me,” said Nick. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Lily.”

  “It’s okay, I just didn’t hear you coming,” said Angel, trying to calm her thumping heart.

  “I was going to call out, but you looked so peaceful,” replied Nick. “Not surprising in the face of all this loveliness.” He gestured towards the view, but his eyes were on Angel’s face.

  “Let’s go inside,” she said desperately. “I’d love another dance.” She moved towards the cabin only to find herself being gently pulled into Nick’s embrace.

  “We can dance out here.”

  “But it’s 'Gangnam Style.’”

  “It won’t last long,” said Nick and, as if by magic, the music changed and the first lilting, evocative notes of “La Mer” filled the night air.

  It was impossible not to succumb to the music and Angel found herself melting into Nick’s arms. Neither of them spoke as they waltzed around the deck and as the last notes faded they stopped dancing and simply stood in each other’s arms watching the Paris skyline.

  “You know, I never expected this,” said Nick softly.

  Angel looked up at him. “What?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  Nick smiled. “I mean, I expected you—Godmother told me you were coming to Paris—I just didn’t expect to feel like this about you.” He coiled a strand of her hair around his finger. “You were a cute kid, Lily, but I never imagined I’d ever want to be more than friends with you.” Angel caught her breath as his arms tightened around her. “I guess I was wrong,” he whispered and bent his head towards her.

  Angel lifted her face.

  Nick was going to kiss her and she was going to let him.

  They were an inch apart when a raucous ringtone shattered the silence. In an instant the spell was broken. Angel pulled free
of Nick’s embrace, wrenched open her bag and grabbed her phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Angel!” exclaimed Lily urgently. “Where have you been? Are you okay? I’ve been ringing for hours. Please, don’t tell me you’ve been found out, because I can’t possibly leave London. I got the part of Emily in Our Town!”

  Angel had forgotten all about her desperate messages to Lily asking her what to do about Nick. And she couldn’t ask for her advice now. Not with Nick standing right there with a look in his eyes that made Angel long to throw her phone into the Seine.

  “Angel? Are you there? Have they found out you’re not me?”

  “No, it’s okay. Everything’s fine. That's great news about Emily.” Angel smiled apologetically at Nick and tried to focus.

  “Thank goodness,” said Lily. “I was worried. Your messages were so garbled—something about dancing lessons and Nick.”

  “Yes, but it’s okay now.”

  “Are you sure?” demanded Lily. “You sound funny.”

  “Honestly, Li—inda, I’m fine.”

  “Linda? Oh, is someone with you?”

  “Uh-huh, and I have to go,” said Angel, trying to sound casual.

  But Lily’s uncanny sixth sense for trouble must’ve alerted her because she said instantly, “Is it Nick? Is he there with you? He is, isn’t he?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Angel! I thought you’d agreed to avoid him? Do you want him to find out you’re not me?”

  “No.”

  “Then you need to stay cool. Keep him at arm’s length and don’t give in to temptation!”

  The words burned into Angel’s brain like a brand, but Lily hadn’t finished.

  “Remember, you’re in Paris to stop Clarissa cheating.”

  “You’re right,” whispered Angel.

  “And nothing must get in your way.”

  “No.”

  “You have to stay focused. Ring me later, okay?”

  “Okay. Bye Linda.” She closed her phone, turned to Nick and was startled to see people emerging onto the deck.