I'd had worse Christmases, and I'd had better.

It wasn't so much the place, but the company was stifling. William was quiet, which was strange for him, and Cosette was impossible to talk to. I meant that both because I didn't know any French at all and because we had nothing in common. Either she couldn't speak English, or she wasn't inclined to communicate with me to shut me out. Honestly, after she gave me a tour of the house and showed me her very ornate and decorative bedroom, I was in silent agreement that we'd have little to discuss in any language and was content to remain a stranger to her.

Strange kid.

William didn't seem to have much interest in her either. This was a source of some amusement for Freddie and me because we could see just how hard Madame Courtenay was trying to push him into her daughter's company. Gideon had said that she was interested in finding a girl she approved of for him, and I saw that the only one she deemed suitable was Cosette. Everyone joked that nobles and royals were inbred, and there was the proof of it. True, they were second-cousins, but that gene pool would only get shallower if they got married. Besides, I couldn't even tell if Cosette liked him. She was so – I don't know – doll like, that even emotions didn't play on her face. I was tempted to knock her flat onto her back to see if her eyes would close like those creepy baby dolls that people bought in stores.

Georgia was frequently captured by Wyatt. He kept gushing about how lucky we were to be there, and how happy he was to have his girlfriend with him. She didn't look so inclined to agree and had crawled into my bed most nights for comfort and peace. Poor Georgia. I wasn't going to say I told you so, no matter how much I wanted to.

But I had told her so.

Wyatt just wasn't any good for her.

Or anyone, for that matter.

My only other escape from the nonsense of the house was Freddie.

'Now that is a nice car,' I said as I walked down the stone steps at the grand entrance to the building.

Freddie beamed at me, leaning against the vehicle with his arms folded across his chest like he'd just stepped out of a dreamy romance movie. His auburn hair was swept back, the collar of his white shirt open, the tails tucked loosely into his black pressed trousers. He patted the door affectionately. 'She's a nineteen-'

'Nineteen-sixty-six Alfa Romeo Spider Duetto, I know.'

'How do you –'

'My Dad likes cars,' I explained. 'Can I drive?'

'Do you have a license?'

'No.'

'Then, non.' Freddie opened the passenger door for me. 'Allons, before someone tries to stop us escaping.'

That someone would probably be my mother. She was still determined that I was going to spend time with her and her new husband, as if we could be a family. I didn't think that was going to happen. I appreciated that she was happy and everything, but I couldn't help wondering how long it would be until her latest marriage fell apart. It was her life so she could do what she wanted. I just didn't want her to drag me into it.

'So, what are we doing today?' I asked as we took off at high speed, leaving the ugly old house and its occupants far behind us.

'Museums?'

'Boring.'

'Really? Have you ever been to le Louvre?'

'No.'

'Then you don't know it's boring, do you? Indulge me with some culture, and then we'll go shopping.'

'Because that's all girls like to do, right?'

'Most, oui. What else did you have in mind?'

I shrugged. 'Walking, I suppose? Are there many street performers in Paris?'

'Oui. There are many. Mostly for the tourists.'

'I want to see them.'

Freddie laughed. It was a warm, smooth noise that warmed my cheeks. 'You're a weird girl. Tres unique.'

'Why?'

'A bel homme picks you up in a nice car. You could do anything you want. Money is... pas de problème, and you want to see mimes and musicians.'

'Did you just refer to yourself as a beautiful guy?' I asked.

'Oui,' he admitted unabashedly. 'There is no need to hide the truth. I am bel, am I not?'

I kept it together until Freddie waggled his eyebrows, and then there was no holding back the hysterical laughter. Madame Courtenay had done me a favour by foisting me off on William's cousin. The trip was starting to feel survivable and my regret at boarding the plane had diminished somewhat. It couldn't be said that Freddie was my soulmate or true love. I'd known him for a couple of days, and I wasn't about to make any rash decisions about boyfriends, especially not when it was unlikely that I'd ever see him again once I left the country. Still, it was nice to have a new friend, and if we had a short-lived fling, then I wasn't going to object to that. I was only human, after all. And he was, as he said, bel.

'You know,' he reached over to tug lightly on the collar of my hooded jacket, 'you can't walk around Paris dressed like a boy.'

'What's wrong with it?'

'Nothing if you are at home,' he said. 'But if you want a Parisian experience, you should look like a belle femme.'

I groaned. 'I hate wearing heels.'

'I will buy you some flats.'

'Freddie, really?' I asked, exasperated. 'I don't want to. I hate shopping.'

'One store. Maybe two. It'll be quick and painless, je promets. And then we will do whatever you want. I will be your loyal slave. Deal?'

'Fine,' I huffed.

Given it was winter, I wasn't keen on wearing a dress. But, as I was frequently reminded, jeans weren't often seen on a Lady who was receiving the hospitality of Madame Courtenay. I glared at the back of Freddie's head while he talked in rapid French to the saleswoman in the boutique we went to. He wasn't shy about holding her hands in his, caressing them with his thumbs, and eyeing her in a flirtatious way. Although I was sat right there, she wasn't at all put off. When he was done convincing her to help, she hurried off to get a selection of outfits.

'Let me guess,' I said. 'She's your sister?'

'Funny,' he dropped into the seat beside mine. 'Are you jealous?'

'Not even slightly.'

'I can't help it if a belle femme responds to my requests better if I... deliver them in a more enticing package.'

'The less said about your enticing package, the better,' I muttered.