“Most women want to rush up and down the boulevards buying jewels and hats,” Cameron said now. “You head straight for the boulangerie.”

Ainsley matched his careless tone. “Perhaps that is because we were allowed only very stingy slices of cake at Miss Pringle’s Academy. I learned that if I wanted cake, I had to steal it.”

“So that is the explanation for your life of crime.”

“The cake was worth stealing, you can be certain. The cook was French, and she knew how to make tortes with the layers and layers of caramel and cream between them. I realize now that she only gave us the barest taste of the joys of France.”

“I’ll take you all over the country so you can try the cake of every region,” Cameron said.

“Truly? That would indeed be splendid—”

Ainsley’s words cut off in a surprised squeak as a woman sat down in the chair next to her and helped herself to Ainsley’s champagne.

“Lady Cameron Mackenzie, I do believe,” Phyllida Chase said, and laughed. “Really, darling, it’s too bad of you.”

Chapter 20

“Oh, don’t look so alarmed.” Phyllida set down the glass, then took an oyster from Cameron’s plate and tipped it down her throat. “I think it wonderful that you’ve gone and eloped with the elusive Lord Cameron. I’m happy for you, even if he did throw me over for a younger woman.”

Her eyes glittered in mirth, the brittleness gone from her laughter. Phyllida Chase’s ice had melted.

“Would you like to join us, Phyllida?” Ainsley asked her coolly. “They’ll bring you your own plate and glass if you ask them.”

Phyllida sent her a sunny smile. “That would be lovely.” She turned and waved through the crowd. “Giorgio, I’m here. I’ve found friends.”

A broad-shouldered, dark-haired man moved past the tables toward them, and Cameron rose to meet him.

Phyllida caught the man’s hand when he reached them. “Look, darling, it’s Lord Cameron and his new wife. Ainsley, this is Giorgio Prario, the famous tenor. Giorgio, love, they’ve invited us to dine with them.”

The Italian man was alarmingly tall, and he stood toe-to- toe with Cameron. But Signor Prario held out his hand in a friendly manner and took Cameron’s in a firm grip. “Yes, the Scottish lord who provided us with the means to remove to a happier place. I thank you.” He bowed to Ainsley. “My lady. I also thank you.”

Ainsley blinked. “Cameron provided you the means?”

The two men sat down and the ready waiters appeared with extra plates and cutlery, glasses and napkins. More champagne was poured, and the maître d’hôtel personally offered them the best from the kitchen. Cameron was a very rich man, and every restaurateur in Paris knew it.

“Money for the letters, darling,” Phyllida said when the waiters finally departed. “You didn’t think I truly cared for what the queen gets up to with her horseman, did you? I only cared that she’d pay dearly to save herself embarrassment.” She beamed at Cameron. “Cam’s generosity gave me the last bit I needed so that Giorgio and I could set up a house here. My husband is busily divorcing me in London, and when that’s all done, Giorgio and I will be married.”

Phyllida radiated happiness. Her smile was wide, her eyes soft, and she looked far younger than the cold, remorseless woman Ainsley had faced in the gardens at Kilmorgan.

“Giorgio is now the most sought-after tenor on the Continent,” Phyllida went on, voice filled with pride. “The crowned heads are all demanding him. He’s giving a concert tomorrow night at the opera house. Darlings, you must come. You’ll understand my infatuation with him when you hear him sing.”

“But, Phyllida,” Ainsley burst out as soon as Phyllida paused for breath. “Why all the scheming with the letters? Why not just tell me what you wanted the money for? I might have been a bit more sympathetic, or even tried to help you get it.”

Phyllida’s eyes widened. “Confess to the prim-and-proper confidante of the queen that I wanted to run away from my lawfully wedded husband? You, who were so famously devoted to an elderly man who bored you senseless?” Phyllida lifted her glass of champagne. “I am delighted to see you’ve let Cameron corrupt you.”

Giorgio had turned to Cameron to ask him a question about horses, and the two men were already deep in conversation about that. Ainsley watched Cameron become interested in their discussion about differences in various race courses.

I was already corrupted, dear Phyllida. Cameron simply made me acknowledge it.

“Surely you could have raised the money without resorting to blackmail,” Ainsley said.

“Not at all. My so-called friends were as upright and closed-minded as you. They’d rather obey the rules and live in misery than boldly snatch a few moments of happiness. Besides, I wanted to punish Her Little Majesty for forcing me into marriage with an ice-cold man. To Mr. Chase, a wife is little more than an automaton to stand beside him and say the right things at the right time—to benefit him. I’m surprised he didn’t store me in a closet every night and wind me up again every morning.”

“Was Signor Prario the happiness the queen had taken from you?” Ainsley asked, remembering their conversation in the garden. “The reason she made you marry Mr. Chase?”

“No, no, I didn’t meet Giorgio until about a year ago. But it was a similar thing—ten years ago, the most delightful man in the world asked me to marry him, but the queen refused to let me. He wasn’t rich enough or well-born enough to be able to override the queen’s objections, and she persuaded my family to her side. I was too young and too afraid to simply run away with him. He’s long gone, in America, probably married to someone else by now. Mr. Chase was looking for a society wife about the same time, and the queen influenced my family to marry me off to him instead. Our Victoria buried me in misery for ten long years. I decided that she needed to suffer a little for it, though she’ll never quite understand what she did to me.”