“You must let me show you my orchids,” he said, moving forward, “and you shall choose one that will not only please you, but perhaps be a little like you.”
There was just a faint note of sarcasm in Carlos’s voice, but Hermione did not notice it.
“You are so kind,” she said softly, “and I would love to have one of your orchids, but you must choose it for me. It is your choice, not mine that matters.”
Again, the Marquis thought that she might be speaking the lines written by a playwright, which had been rehearsed until she was word-perfect.
He was well aware when a little while later they left El Cuarto des Flores that Hermione was disappointed, though she concealed it cleverly.
El Cuarto des Flores*
It was after luncheon, at which a large number of the Marquis’s family were present, a
