Pride After Her Fall

‘Mais non. You stopped.’ She pushed back a rogue curl dangling over the left side of her face. ‘It’s more than most people would have done. Merci beaucoup.’

Nash hesitated. He hadn’t seen her like this before—calm, almost subdued—and it suited her. She wasn’t quite as young as he’d first assumed—maybe thirty—and there was a maturity about her that he’d missed in all the glamour-girl theatrics.

‘Right. Take care of her. She’s a beauty.’

He ran his hand lightly over the paintwork and for the life of him couldn’t work out why getting back into his car was so hard. Except she was just standing there, looking a little uncertain.

He sat in the Veyron, waiting, watching as she climbed into the sapphire-blue roadster, waiting for her to start the engine, waiting for her to pull out, all the while waiting to feel relief that she was off his hands. She gave him a simple wave and drove slowly back down the road.

Telling himself he was satisfied, he pulled out and took off.

Lorelei watched until she couldn’t see him any more in her mirror, then ignored the pinch in her chest because she wasn’t going to see him again, before turning the big car around and heading back the way he was going. Into town.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘LORELEI, good morning.’ The girl behind the desk beamed. ‘You’re early!’

‘No, I have a client at midday, so I’m running late, ch?re. Can you be an angel and put a call through to the arena to let them know I’m on my way?’

As she reached her locker Lorelei finished keying her successful morning’s tally into her cell: Smashed up a Bugatti. Met a man. Then she hesitated, because ‘met a man’ implied she would be meeting him again. Monaco was a postage stamp of geography, but person per square foot it was the most densely populated postage stamp in the world, making it highly unlikely …

She sighed, pressed Send to her best friend’s number and dropped the cell into her bag, placing that in her locker. Her love life was fairly, well, non-existent these days. Getting close to a man in her current situation just meant another person to hide things from.

She stripped, pulled on jodhpurs and a white shirt, and crouched down to yank on her riding boots. It was only when she stood up to don the regulation jacket and caught sight of her reflection that she paused to enjoy the little moment when she stepped into this world.

It was almost a moment of relief. She understood this world. There were rules and regulations and they were satisfying. It was what she had always loved about dressage and showjumping. She had had so little structure growing up, and the sport had provided for the lack. Ironically it was fulfilling the same function now.

She smiled wanly as she buttoned herself up. The jacket hung a little on her, but so did everything. She’d lost weight during her father’s trial and somehow never regained it.

Gathering up her clipboard, Lorelei made her way out into the stands to wait for her student.

Once this had been her dream, until a bad fall had put paid to her ambitions. Nowadays she trained up-and-coming equestrians on a freelance basis. It didn’t pay spectacularly well, but it was work for her soul. After the accident she hadn’t thought she would ever saddle up again. Two years of rehabilitation had taught her both patience and determination, and she brought them to her work. It made her a good trainer.

In a couple of years, when she was financially back on her feet again, she hoped to set up her own stables on a property she had her eye on outside Nice. For now, she trained and kept two horses at the nearby Allard Stables, where she also volunteered.

She brought her focus to bear as a glorious bay gelding entered the arena, carrying a long-legged teenager. Lorelei had been working with her for a month. She watched as horse and rider trotted round the perimeter and then came out of the circle, performing a shoulder-in. Her practised gaze narrowed. The rider was using the inside rein to create the bend, rather than her leg, and was pulling the horse off-track.

Too much neck-bend, no angle, she noted on the clipboard propped up on one knee.

Some of the best equine flesh in the world was on view here most days, ridden by the best of the best, but on Fridays the arena belonged to students such as young Gina, who was making a hash of the most fundamental lesson in advanced dressage. She would improve—Lorelei was confident on her behalf. These were skills that could be learnt. The rest was about your relationship with the horse, and Gina was a natural.

For the next half hour she took notes, then joined Gina and the bay gelding’s regular handler in the arena. She was working with Gina on top of her usual student load as a favour to another trainer, but she didn’t mind taking on the extra work. It was good to take her head out of her financial troubles and focus on something she could control, and fulfilling to see the progress Gina had made in little over a month.

She worked with both girl and horse for the rest of their session, then joined Gina and her mother to talk about her progress. It was important, so although she was running late for her appointment at the Hotel de Paris she made the time. It was on half one when she leapt into the Sunbeam, starting her engine as she checked her cell.

It was never a pleasant experience. So many messages—so few people she actually wanted to talk to. There were several from her solicitor, a raft from legal firms she’d never heard of and one from the agent through whom she was leasing the villa out to strangers. She had a vague hope that the income could be channelled back into the upkeep of the house and grounds. But she wouldn’t think about that right now. She wasn’t ready.

Maybe tomorrow.

Unexpectedly the stranger’s comment that she expected the world to run on her timetable flashed to mind. But before she had time to dwell unhappily on the truth of that, and aware that her damn hands were shaking again, she keyed in her best friend Simone’s number and attached ear buds to enable her to drive and talk.

‘You had a car accident? Mon Dieu, Lorelei, are you all right?’

‘No, not an accident.’ She hesitated, knowing how lame it was going to sound. ‘I borrowed it for a theme party and parked it and left the handbrake off.’

There was a pause before Simone said with a suspicion of laughter in her voice, ‘You know I love you, Lorelei, but I would never let you drive my car.’

‘Then perhaps you should talk to the guy I dealt with—this big Australian. He seemed to think I was a disaster waiting to happen.’

‘Poor bеbе. I’m sure you charmed him in the end.’

‘He was a little steamed about the car.’

‘I bet.’

‘I don’t think he liked me very much.’

Simone snorted. ‘Men always like you, Lorelei. You wouldn’t be so good at milking them of euros for that charity of yours if they didn’t.’

Lorelei acknowledged the truth of this with a little shrug. ‘I guess this one was the exception. He was different—I don’t know … capable. Manly. He looked over my car.’

‘And—?’

‘I think I liked him.’

Simone was silent. Testimony to the state of Lorelei’s romantic life.

‘I know. I must be crazy, right?’

‘Is he employed?’

‘Oh, honestly.’

‘The last one I heard about didn’t have a sou to his name.’

‘Rupert was an installation artist.’

‘Is that what he called it? I know you’re touchy about this, but for the life of me I can’t work out why you don’t date those guys you schmooze for your grandmother’s charity.’

Lorelei’s heart sank a little. The nature of her charity work meant she was often seen in social situations with powerful men, but she never dated them. Being the daughter of one of the most infamous gigolos on the Riviera had left her wary of men who could pay her bills. She gravitated towards a type: struggling artist—whether it be painter or musician or poet—often in need of propping up, usually with her money. And that was where everything came unstuck.

Well, she didn’t have that problem any more …

‘So no name, no number—?’

‘No hope,’ finished Lorelei, and their laughter mingled over the old joke. ‘I’m on my way as we speak to the Hotel de Paris.’

‘Ooh, la la, tell me you’re going to use their wonderful spa!’