Love and Splendor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 5 (9 page)

Dani sighed, slightly perturbed. “It is not for sale.”

Cyril had to have the painting. He was one of only a few people who knew the secret, and he wasn’t even supposed to know,
would not know,
were it not for eavesdropping on a conversation between the famed Russian goldsmith Peter Carl Fabergé, and one of his sons at the opening of their Odessa store one year before.

He had wandered away from the mingling, ogling crowds, as was his custom, and boldly gone beyond the gold velvet drapes separating the store proper from the workrooms. He wanted to see not what was offered to the general public but the creations that would be presented for private sale, to royalty.

He had found a tiny room where he marveled over a Chinese marriage cup, carved in mutton-fat jade and mounted in oxidized silver by Fabergé. The rim was engraved with a pattern of lines and dots, and the two handles were stylized jaguar heads, each revealing cabochon amethysts within open jaws formed of leaf motifs.

It was beautiful, and there was a countess in Lyon who would pay a fortune for it, he knew.

He was about to boldly seek out Carl Fabergé and make an offer for the piece. Then he heard voices, stood back to listen…and heard the conversation that revealed to him the secret of Alexandrovsky Palace and the painting he now held in his trembling hands!

Dani was losing her patience. The man was behaving strangely. “If you will give me the painting, I will put it away and have refreshments served,” she stated evenly, almost coldly.

Cyril hated to hand it over to her but knew he had no choice. For the moment, her mind was set against selling it, and to continue to attempt to persuade her to change her mind would only risk arousing her suspicion as to why he wanted possession of it so badly.

Breathing in deeply, with nostrils flaring, he silently vowed that he would eventually have it…would stop at nothing to get it!

He forced a smile to dry, nervous lips. “Well, if you change your mind, please let me be the first to make an offer. Memories, you know,” he added with a flippant shrug.

When they were back in the parlor once more, enjoying glasses of champagne, Cyril turned his attention to another matter—his infatuation with this stunningly beautiful creature. “Your stepmother tells me there is to be a grand social to celebrate the opening of your gallery and shop. I would be honored if you would allow me to escort you.”

Dani groaned inwardly at the thought of the planned event. Oh, what a heated discussion that had been with her father and Kitty when they approached her with the idea. Yes, she could see having a simple reception, but a ball? With an orchestra and all the trimmings? She had accused them both of wanting to put her on display, like a
debutante,
for God’s sake. “Stop trying to plan my life for me,” she had angrily protested. “Stop trying to find a husband for me! I don’t want a husband! I don’t want marriage. I don’t want a debut into society. All I want is to be left alone to make my own decisions!”

It had not been a pleasant scene. Travis had become angry. Kitty seemed hurt. Dani had not apologized for her outburst, feeling she had a right to state her feelings. She had eventually given in to the idea of the ball, albeit reluctantly, but had no intention of being escorted, no intention of doing anything except play the role of new gallery owner, new shop owner.

Better a dilettante than a debutante, she had declared to herself.

Politely, she declined Cyril’s offer. “That’s very kind of you, but I will be so busy I would not be much company for you.”

Reluctantly, he rose. “I thank you for your hospitality, for granting me a private showing, and should you change your mind about allowing me to be your escort, please let me know.”

She walked with him to the door. He clasped her hand, raised it to his lips. “You are beautiful,” he told her reverently. “I issue fair warning to all your other suitors that I intend to compete for your company.”

Dani laughed with pleasure. “I should be honored,
monsieur
.” She gave a small curtsy, said she would look forward to seeing him at the ball, then said goodbye.

Cyril took his hat from the butler, then made his way out and down the steps.

At the wrought-iron gate, he paused to gaze back at the mansion. Two treasures lay within—Dani Coltrane and the painting of the Alexandrovsky Palace.

He intended to possess both.

Chapter Eight

No expense had been too large, no detail too small in planning for the spectacular celebration of the grand opening of the antique and art gallery of
Mademoiselle
Dani Coltrane.

Due to her father’s political and social position, there was no problem in gaining permission to host the festivities in the famed Tuileries Gardens.

The gardens held a special place in Dani’s heart, for she loved their symmetrical formality yet found them anything but severe. Their openness and spacious views offered lightness, charm.

She did not, however, like to think of some of the grim history surrounding them. The dreaded guillotine had been erected near the gates in 1793, and records stated that for the next three years 1,343 people had been decapitated.

Dani liked to think that the flowers of the gardens bloomed especially for the memories of those poor dead souls. Marigolds lined the path to where the guillotine had stood, with chives in bloom forming pink bouquets. Baltic ivy draped a huge sundial, and, in a lively contrast of form and color, yarrow flaunted yellow blossoms above purple hibiscus and orange tiger lilies.

Little had been changed since André Le Nôtre laid out the gardens two hundred years before, in 1664. He had been born right in the garden, in the gardener’s cottage, and had also died there.

Carrying out the line of his central
allée
beyond and out into the country, a path traced straight along the wooded hill to the west of the palace. It was on this hilltop, one hundred and seventy years later, in 1834, that the Arc de Triomphe was erected, in celebration of Napoleon’s victorious campaigns of 1805.

At the eastern edge of the garden, Napoleon III had erected a hothouse, which was called the Orangerie, and a court for tennis—the Jeu de Paume.

The formal exit gate was flanked by two winged horses, dating back to the seventeenth century, and gave a splendid view of the Place de la Concorde, the moat-skirted octagon designed by Jacques Ange Gabriel in 1753.

Had inclement weather prevailed, the festivities could have been moved on short notice into the palace. However, on the day of the event, conditions of nature could not have been better. Though the air was cool with the promise of fall, skies were clear and void of clouds. By midafternoon, a brightly smiling sun had bestowed warmth upon Paris…and the gardens.

Canopies of silk, in every color of the rainbow, and mounted upon shining brass spears, dotted the lush, green landscape. Each color designated a different fare, set out upon tables covered in the finest lace over satin sheeting the same shade of the canopy above.

A green canopy was the invitation for fruits—assorted melon balls marinated in grape liqueur; succulent bananas dipped in sugar, then fried and coated in coconut; apples stewed thick and rich in a peppermint syrup; grapes dusted in the most delicate powdered sugar; plump figs soaked in honey; cherries and pineapple laced with brandy.

Yellow silk displayed an array of egg and cheese dishes. There were pots of simmering fondue for every taste bud, with chunks of bread waiting to be dipped into luscious cheese, egg, mushroom, or snail cream sauces. For the sweet tooth, there were tiny squares of cake for dipping into thick, rich chocolate.

After the
apéritif
tents, blue canopies offered first courses:
Bisque d’Ecrevisses
—crayfish bisque;
Jambon Persillé de Bourgogne
—parsleyed ham in aspic;
Fricassee de Petits-gris aux Croutons
—fricassee of snails; and
Oeufs en Meurette
—baked eggs with bacon and croutons.

Bright red canopies heralded the delicious menu for second courses:
Gougeonnettes de Filets de Sole
—fried sole fingers;
Steak Bourguignon a Ia Moelle
—steak with beef marrow;
Bouribout aux Raisins
—ragout of duck and grapes;
Estouffade de Boeuf au Pommard aux Pates Fraiches
—beef stewed in red wine with fresh noodles; and
Cuisses de Grenouilles a Ia Comtoise
—frogs’ legs in cream sauce.

As an added treat, it had been Dani’s idea to invite chefs from a number of the culinary regions of France to present their regional specialties. From the Ile-de-France, the region surrounding Paris, there was the steak filet known as chateaubriand. Salmon was presented by the Loire Valley, as well as their famed meatballs made from pork and goose meat. Brittany heralded its specialties of lobster and fish, and the pancakes called
crêpes bretonnes.

From Normandy, there were omelets, excellent cheeses, and Rouen duck. The region of Champagne was celebrated for its trout stews, kidneys fried in champagne, and braised pike.

The Germanic influence was evident in the dishes prepared by the regional chefs of Alsace-Lorraine, such as
choucroute garnie
—sauerkraut garnished with ham, pork, sausages, and assorted vegetables.

The chef from the Burgundy region used its renowned wines to cook fish balls, and Lyon featured sausages and foie gras
.

Southeast of Cognac lay the region of Périgord, famed for its truffles, a subterranean fungus rooted from the ground by specially trained pigs and dogs. This delicacy, treasured by gourmets, was offered in abundance, for demand would be immense.

There was also a special canopy which provided only cheese, with breads and crackers for accompaniment. Tasty varieties such as Roquefort, Camembert; Brie, and Gruyère were laid out.

What was no doubt the favorite tented restaurant of all was the pink silk-roofed buffet of desserts:
Marquise au Chocolat a la Fine Champagne
—chocolate cake with Cognac;
Tarte Tatin a la Crème Chantilly
—apple tart with whipped cream;
Gâteau de Riz Crème Anglaise
—rice pudding with custard sauce; and
Crème Renversée Caramélisée
—caramelized cream custard.

The vineyards and wineries of the various regions were represented heartily—Cognac, Bordeaux, Burgundy, Rhine, Moselle. In addition, there was
génépi des Alpes
—alpine liqueur;
marc de
Savoie—grape brandy; and
mirabelle
—white plum brandy. Sparkling mineral water was provided as well.

Although Dani was still somewhat piqued by the thought of her father and stepmother using the ball as her social debut, she had found herself enthusiastically caught up in the excitement. Handwritten invitations in gold ink on blue parchment had gone out to over fifteen hundred people. Each and every recipient had accepted. It was, by public and private declaration, a gala not to be missed.

Dani rose early the morning of the festivities, declining breakfast and opting for only tea due to the excited churning within her. It was, she knew, going to be an event she would always remember. To her family, it might seem she was merely on display as a most eligible and rich young debutante, but she knew better. Opening the shop meant a firm statement of her own independence. The events surrounding it, no matter how lush and expensive, were merely of a business nature as far as she was concerned.

The most renowned
coiffeur
in Paris, Mimi Letrouse, arrived at the Coltrane mansion promptly at nine that morning to do first Kitty’s hair, then Dani’s.

Dani sat impatiently while Mimi painstakingly curled each tress of her autumn-gold hair with a heated iron. Then, each was twisted and pulled high up on her head, in layer after layer, every ringlet fastened with a specially designed heart-shaped clip of gold, set with tiny emeralds and edged in diamond chips. These had been a gift from her father from a trip to South Africa, and he’d had them especially made for her to wear on a very special occasion.

That occasion, Dani knew, was most definitely now.

When his wife made her way down the grand staircase, Travis Coltrane felt his heart quicken at the dazzling sight. She was still the most beautiful and exciting woman he had ever known. Dressed in a gown of purple satin, her lavender eyes glowed as though electrified beneath long, dusty lashes. Lush, firm breasts strained against the thickly beaded bodice. Ribbons of green satin umbrellaed down the skirt and were dotted with gleaming white pearls set in rosettes of lavender lace. At her slender throat were the elegant emeralds he had given her so long ago, set in gold filigree and interspersed with delicate rubies and tiny diamonds.

She reached the marbled foyer, and he gently brushed his lips to her forehead and murmured huskily, “You are lovely, and you drive me crazy…”

Kitty laughed, wickedly glancing at his white silk trousers and noting the slight bulge. “Travis, you always were insatiable.”

Then, on silent cue, they stopped their whispered bantering to turn almost reverently to the stairs once more. Dani stood at the top, awesomely beautiful in her simplicity. Her gown was of gold lamé. Strapless, unadorned, it hugged every line of her body as it cascaded smoothly, like liquid fire, to the floor. With her cinnamon tresses afire with emeralds and diamonds, she wore no other jewelry. White gloves reached to her elbows. Her shoes were also gold.