“We must not speak of war; the ladies will disavow us.” The baron turned to Hattie yet again with a polite smile. “Mademoiselle, could I interest you in a tour of the Tuileries tomorrow, if the weather holds?”
Before Hattie could scramble for an excuse, Robbie interjected, “I must claim priority, Monsieur le Baron; allow me to catch up with my old neighbor while I give her a tour of the British embassy.”
Perversely, Hattie found she was inclined to cut the ground from under Robbie’s feet as a turnabout, and turned to Bing. “Have we any plans tomorrow, Miss Bing?”
Without hesitation, Bing prevaricated, “We do have several cards of invitation—”
But Madame Auguste interrupted to tug playfully on Robbie’s arm in mock chagrin. “Mon cher, tomorrow we must meet with the curé about the wedding—have you forgotten?”
“After we meet with him, then,” he reassured her with a smile, fondly placing his hand over hers.
This seemed rather ominous to Hattie, who felt compelled to ask despite her better judgment, “The wedding is imminent?”
“Friday,” replied the woman, who then added graciously, “You must come—please.”
“I would be delighted,” said Hattie, and then bestowed a dimpled smile on the group. “If you will excuse me for a moment?”
After taking her leave, Hattie retreated to the ladies’ retiring room, only barely resisting an impulse to stalk because she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that there was more than one pair of eyes watching her. “Well, Bing; that did not go at all as expected.”
Bing offered ready sympathy, bending her taller head down to Hattie’s. “I am terribly sorry, Hathor, and I can easily see why you were misled; he certainly doesn’t seem a jilt.”
But Hattie was compelled to come to Robbie’s defense, and so confessed, “It is not as bad as it appears, Bing; we were never engaged—I said it only so you would make no protest about the trip.”
“Ah,” said Bing without real surprise. “You cannot be blamed, but I confess that I have always wanted to travel, and any excuse would have done.”
Despite everything, Hattie had to smile at her companion’s unflappable mien. “I will keep that to mind, then.” As soon as they passed into the privacy of the retiring room, Hattie paused and let out a long breath. “There is something very odd going on, did you see?”
“I did,” Bing agreed.
“And Robbie—” Hattie frowned, and shook her head. “I can’t imagine what he is thinking—it is very unlike him; he is not one to fall head over heels.”
“Sometimes—sometimes young men fall prey to older, more experienced women.” Bing said it delicately, so as not to make an innuendo that might shock her charge, but Hattie disagreed, and shook her head. “Not Robbie, Bing; he is not one to be enthralled in such a way. Something strange is afoot—did you see how they were all barely civil?”
“The French and the English are rivals in Egypt,” Bing suggested. “Perhaps a quarrel erupted over there that has carried over here.”
But Hattie was not willing to speculate, and instead decided to take action. “I’ll not endure another minute, so I am going out the window, Bing. Pray exit discreetly and meet me around the back.”
Bing considered this for a moment, her arms crossed across her bony chest. “We are on the second floor, I believe.”
Hattie strode over to lift the casement with a jerk and peered outside, the cool evening air like a balm on her overheated face. “There is a wisteria vine—I will contrive.”
Bing stepped to the window after Hattie, slinging her reticule over a shoulder. “I shall follow, then.”
Hattie paused, one slippered foot over the sill. “There is no need, Bing—only come around and meet me below.”
“I will come—I climbed many a vine with my dear brother.”
Smiling at the reference, Hattie relented. “All right—in honor of Edward, then.”
“Somewhere, he is very pleased.” With an efficient movement, Bing hoisted up her black skirts, exposing practical white-thread stockings. “Perhaps I should go first in the event I am needed to catch you.”
Much on her mettle, Hattie assured her she would not fall and within a few moments was clambering down the vine, skillfully testing the branches as she went. She was a first-rate climber stretching back many years and indeed, some of her best climbing adventures had been performed at the side of the newly affianced. The fact that she wore a full plethora of petticoats scarcely slowed her, and in a matter of minutes her uncertain mood was much improved—there was nothing like making a daring escape to lift one’s spirits.