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turned into a narrow street where stately brownstone mansions nestled behind grilled-iron doorways. Midway along the thoroughfare, the carriage stopped. Bidding the cabriolet driver to wait, Sophy hurried up the semicircular shallow marble steps, peered at the nameplate and rang the doorbell.
    A servant opened the door, took her card and disappeared.
    She took a deep, spine-stiffening breath as the door opened again and the servant gestured to Sophy to enter. Though the house was strangely silent, Sophy thought she heard the muffled tones of voices raised, and even the peculiar sound of suppressed laughter.
    Entering the drawing room, Sophy stared in awe at the brightly patterned pink wallpaper, the large diamond-paned windows, the lavish mahogany paneling glowing with a rich luster. An exquisite rose-and-gray Aubusson carpet covered the floor, while against one wall a small iron stove glowed, exuding warmth. Hanging over all in the center of the ceiling was a tremendous crystal chandelier.
    Sitting among a plethora of pink velvet cushions was a golden-haired woman. Voluptuous. Elegant. Dressed in a low-cut gown of watered silk, a ruffled shawl of bobbin lace over her shoulders. Her legs were covered with a gray woolen rug patterned with pink hearts. She looked up as the door opened, making no attempt to rise.
    “What can I do for you, Mrs. Weston?” Her voice like warm black velvet, thick with a French accent.
    Sophy put down her muff. “I am looking for Madame Bertine. I wish to speak with her privately.”
    The woman inclined her perfectly shaped head. “Speak, ma fille. ”
    Sophy stared directly into a pair of intense dark eyes. She took a deep breath. “I have come, Madame, because I have discovered my late father bought a certain piece of real estate.” She pulled the ribbon-bound deeds from her reticule. “He then gifted a certain Marie-Simone Bertine a life-interest lease on the property. I want to know why.”
    There was a long pause. A half smile glimmered at the corner of the woman’s lips. Perfect lips, sculpted in ruby, curved round flawless ivory teeth.
    Finally, she spoke. “It would seem Nicholas van ‘Outen was a trifle old-fashioned. ’E kept some secrets from ’is daughter.”
    Sophy could hear the amusement in the woman’s voice. She felt her mouth open, then shut with a snap. “That is preposterous nonsense. I handled all my father’s business affairs. He kept no secrets!”
    “Mais non. You knew nothing of this arrangement.” Madame Bertine shrugged off Sophy’s vehemence dismissively, then changed the subject altogether. “You should wear red, ma chérie. It would suit you. You have such lovely skin.”
    Sophy glanced at the woman suspiciously for any signs of mockery. Seeing none, she sighed. “I am in mourning, Madame Bertine.” She touched her black silk gown lightly. “Black is a cold, dignified color. One to gain respect in a man, not love. It’s not a color to entice or excite.”
    “What an extraordinary girl you are. With your dramatic coloring, and dressed accordingly, you could entice les hommes like bees to a flower.”
    Sophy fought the urge to throw back her head and laugh hysterically at this absurd conversation. “I already have a husband.”
    A husband whose heart belonged to his business. If only...
    Madame Bertine nodded slowly, as if her thoughts were not really on Sophy’s reply. She was silent for a long while. “Red is a very bold color. It stands for something. It makes a statement.” She lost the thoughtful look. “I associate it with the strong emotions, passion, anger, desire, l’amour. ”
    Sophy felt a lump form at the back of her throat. She swallowed. Fixed her eyes on her wedding ring as a focus.
    “I do not know that a marriage of convenience, a business arrangement, requires strong emotions. Though I do like heads to turn when I enter a room.”
    No, only one. Seth’s head. If I were in a daring low-cut red satin dress, then he might take