Chapter Ten
I was sitting in the Abbot’s garden reading a delicious little novel about an English girl’s understated affair with a saucy Grecian man, when I heard footsteps behind me.
“Isabella, there’s a man to see you,” Melanie’s said. “Monsieur Gordot.”
“Phillipe? Why on earth...” I looked at her astounded.
She shrugged, a slightly puzzled grin on her face. “He is a charmer, you’d better watch yourself,” she warned.
“And you’d better watch yourself,” I warned her in return, recalling the things that Phillipe had said of my hostess at the party days before.
I opened the double doors to the parlor to see Phillipe standing by the window looking out on the street. He didn’t turn when I entered, though he certainly knew I was there.
“I don’t even need to gaze on you, Isabella, to enjo
