Forbidden by Susan Johnson (good books to read for teens .TXT) 📕

particular sequence of our methodology… well—" he smiled, "a little more sensitive. But you needn't feel presumptuous. You're very welcome to participate. We can use your expertise."

Daisy smiled. "In the state of Montana where I live, the territorial government enacted divorce laws the first week of the territorial legislative session. With so few women in the territory, the men's motives were purely selfish. Our divorce laws are individualized by state. My expertise, I'm afraid, is relatively useless here. But thank you."

"Are we finished quibbling over the details?" the Duc interposed. He'd patiently listened, indifferent to the particulars, the fine points. He had confidence in Bourges. He had more confidence in his own ability to defeat Isabelle's resistance—one way or another. He was realistic however about the length of time required. Bourges was right—the settlement could take some time to negotiate.

"Have we been quibbling?" Daisy asked, her smile pleasant.

"Very definitely." A thousand years of authority was incorporated in the de Vec drawl.

"He doesn't work for a living," Daisy said, having been the rare recipient of the Duc's full attention the past many days. She was unaware of his myriad business commitments. "He only plays polo." Her tone was tolerant, amused. "Have we bored you with all the legal drudgery?"

Bourges looked to the Duc for his reaction. The lady from America was not patronizing the Duc's heritage and power.

"When I'm on horseback for hours, you call it play; when your father and brothers are on horseback for hours training their young stock, it's work." Etienne's green eyes were sportive. "I fail to see the distinction."

"They raise horses for a living."

"Along with their gold, copper, and sapphire mines."

That explained Mademoiselle's Worth gown and pigeon-egg sapphires, Felicien decided. He had thought them a gift from the Duc.

"Thank you for your time, Bourges." The Duc rose from his chair.

"His polo ponies are waiting," Daisy explained with a grin. "And they are sacrosanct."

It was midway through the polo season, running from April 15 through July 13, and Etienne played each afternoon with Valentin and his friends, a practice of long standing. "Nothing is sacrosanct in my life, darling, save you. Would you like my company this afternoon?"

"And watch you check your timepiece a dozen times, thank you, no." Daisy's smile was indulgent. She had experienced the Duc's company as escort one afternoon shopping; although polite, he'd been distinctly restless. And with good reason; his team had lost that day without him.

The Duc was standing over her, his hand out to help her from her chair, his eyes bright with laughter. "I'm taking you to Aïda tonight and I deplore Verdi. You owe me my afternoon's play."

Placing her hand in his, Daisy rose, linked her arm with a cozy familiarity in the Duc's, and, turning to Felicien, said, "Would you care to join us tonight? Contrary to what Etienne says, Verdi is quite spectacular."

Etienne was clearly surprised. Despite the Duc's more liberal stance in relation to many in the aristocracy, his circle of friends was small and exclusive. America's more fluid society based on parvenu wealth of varying degrees had not infiltrated the arrondissements of old money in Paris. But he rose to the occasion. "It would be our pleasure," he said to the man he'd retained as counsel.

"Thank you, but I've other plans," Bourges replied, in agreement with the Duc's opinion of Verdi, not inclined to be genuinely comfortable at the opera. He preferred the Comédie Française or the more tantalizing plays at the Theatre des Capucines.

Miss Black was most unusual, he thought, after the door had closed behind them. One rarely met a woman of her beauty and accomplishments. He could see why the Duc was attracted.

His chin resting on his steepled fingers, he contemplated the view out his window, sorting and re-sorting his ideés fixes apropos men like the Duc and his very public relationship with Miss Black. If Aïda had interested him more, he would have accepted the invitation to the Opéra. He would have enjoyed watching the reaction of the opera fans. Wasn't the Duchesse de Vec one of the Opéra's, major patrons?

An electrifying silence greeted the entrance of the Duc de Vec and Miss Daisy Black into the de Chantel box. With news of de Vec's divorce petition yesterday having spread like wildfire, everyone was fascinated to see the reason for his action. They were a spectacular couple: he in full evening rig, she in magnificent china silk scarlet as a blood ruby. Both were tall, dark, elegant, and seemingly unaware of the attention they were drawing. Had his wife noticed too? Every head swiveled directly across the large gilded hall to gauge the reaction of the Duchesse occupying her usual position in the de Vec loge.

The Duchesse appeared cool as ever, supported by her cousin the Archbishop, by her brother the Minister of Justice, and his wife. She was wearing white tonight as she was in the habit of doing, white tulle, tinseled and berib-boned. With the de Vec diamonds sparkling on her ears and décolletage.

Immediately a buzz of excited, calculating comment rose. . Would she get to keep, the diamonds in the divorce set-dement? Would he win his divorce at all? Gossip already had it de Vec had exited de Goux's chambers in a rage. He wasn't the sort of man who took kindly to admonishing lectures.

The Duc appeared as calm as his wife—they had at least a certain self-possession in common… notwithstanding lectures from magistrates concerning the sanctity of family. And when the Duc turned to address a smiling comment to his darkly beautiful companion, then proceeded to brush a fallen tendril of her black hair from the nakedness of her shoulder, the entire audience sucked in a breathless titillated pant. For a man of his composure, the gesture had been tantamount to a public unveiling.

American women of course were recognized for their frank independence. On which point the fascinated viewers weren't disappointed. De Vec's lover touched his mouth with her fingertip and laughed