“Not especially,” she said, thinking back to Rose’s uninspiring nuptials. “Perhaps we could have something quiet, here in New York, and then have a party in Paris with all our friends?”
He answered her with a kiss. It began as a delicate and respectful gesture, one that was perfectly suited to the emotion and solemnity of the moment, but Helena was done with chaste and tender kisses from the man she loved. She contrived to open her mouth a fraction, just enough that she might touch her tongue to his lips, and that was enough to push him over the edge. An instant later he was sitting on the sofa, she was astride his lap, and he was kissing her so passionately that she thought she might actually swoon, although she hadn’t worn a corset in years and had always been a levelheaded sort of person.
Sam pulled away first, gasping for breath as he set his chin on top of her head and pulled her tight against his chest. “God, Ellie. You’re going to kill me. Let’s see about getting a marriage license first.”
“Slave to convention. That’s what you are.”
“I’m afraid of your aunt Agnes, that’s what I am.”
“She lived in sin with Dimitri for years, so I doubt—”
“Don’t tempt me. That reminds me. We need to visit my parents, or my mother will have my head.”
“Will they be upset with me? For taking you away from Howard Steel, and back to Europe?”
“No. They know it was my decision alone. Besides, there’s no reason they can’t travel now that my father is retiring. Mother’s always wanted to do the Grand Tour.”
It occurred to her that, with the Howard millions dispersed, Sam would need to work for a living. “Do you think the Tribune will give you your old job back?”
“I don’t need it. I’ve had an offer from John Ellis, the editor of the Liverpool Herald. He’s asked me to be the paper’s European correspondent. The pay is better than at the Tribune, and we can live in Paris or London—whichever you prefer.”
“Definitely Paris.”
“I’ll have to travel a lot, but I thought you could come with me, at least some of the time.”
“That ties in perfectly with my new profession.”
“Your new . . . ?” he asked, mystified.
“Not entirely new. I spoke with Ma?tre Czerny the day after the vernissage—no, don’t make that face. étienne and Mathilde and I smuggled in my other painting—Le train bleu, the one I’d been nervous about—and he saw it, and liked it. He told me I should consider becoming a commercial artist, designing travel posters or book jackets or things like that.”
She wriggled off his lap and reached for her bag, which she’d left propped on the floor at the end of the sofa. In it was the portfolio of drawings she’d created on the voyage to America. He leafed through them slowly, his face a picture of delight and admiration.
“These are wonderful—although, to be honest, I love all your work.”
“Thank you. I’m still . . . I mean, I lost my nerve, and I haven’t quite got it back yet. But I’ve got to try, no matter what.”
“That’s the spirit. I wouldn’t have been offered the job at the Herald if it weren’t for you. You were the one who encouraged me to focus on my writing, and it was the series I wrote on the Anglo-French accord—remember how long I worked on those articles?—that got me the job. I sent them to Mr. Ellis, just to show him the sort of work I was doing, and he liked them so much he offered me a job with his paper.”
“Have I said before that I am terribly proud of you?”
“Not in so many words, but I’m glad to hear it. Now, are we ready to go? Do you have everything you need?”
“I think so—oh, no! I forgot about Daisy!”
“Why don’t we join her downstairs?” he asked. “They can’t serve us champagne, but we could have some tea.”
“And toast the end of my year in Paris?”
“That, and the beginning of many more.”
Epilogue
October, 1925
Paris, France
It was the night of étienne’s vernissage at the Galérie Bellamy, and if Sam didn’t return home very soon they would be late. He’d been out all afternoon, busy with various errands, and Helena was beginning to worry that he’d lost track of time.
They had been married in America at the beginning of June, in the drawing room of his parents’ cottage in Connecticut, though she still found it odd to call a house with forty rooms a cottage. Daisy had been her maid of honor, while Sam had asked his father to be his witness. They’d returned to Europe via London, where they’d celebrated quietly with her parents and sisters, and had been settled in Paris by the middle of July.