The Art of Seduction (15 page)

T
he incident with Orlaf took some of the edge off Mason's fear of Richard Garrett. She had no doubt that he was a detective on her trail in the process of patiently unmasking her. And given his idealistic love of art, it wasn't surprising that he would loathe a man like the count. But in such an eruption of raw emotion, in the midst of a scene he couldn't know was coming, could he have had the presence of mind to fake the protective passion he'd shown for her paintings? She felt confused and torn. She couldn't help thinking there was more to the enigma of Richard Garrett than she'd figured out thus far.

In the meantime, his romantic pursuit of her continued unabated. He was in no way pushy or insistent, but his campaign of seduction proceeded with charm, confidence, and good-natured persistence. Despite her guard, she felt herself weakening to him. The way he touched her at odd moments, running his finger along her palm until she felt weak with desire. The way he kissed her good night, holding her, stroking her so skillfully that it was all she could do to get away from him and lock the door behind her. Subtly, without hurrying, he was stoking the fires of her treacherous longing for him so that she paced her floor long into the night, going again and again to her window, looking out over his hotel, feeling him there, wanting the succor of his touch to ease the fever in her soul. She hated herself for wanting him, for loving him despite everything she knew about him. Each moment in his company was agony, but being without him was worse.

On May 6th, the Universal Exposition opened its gates. Along with the rest of Paris, Mason and Lisette descended upon the fairgrounds and spent the day wandering through the staggering displays of the latest advances in science and industry. Over the next three days, they ate baklava at the Greek pavilion, explored the Tonkin village, watched the Central African dancers, marveled at the Persian antiquities, browsed through displays of crystal and jewelry and photography, rode the miniature train through the grounds, and of course, took in the exhibits of art and sculpture at the Palace of Fine Arts. There was so much to see, and Mason was enjoying the respite from her ordeal.

But the air of excitement that opening week extended far beyond the Champ de Mars and seemed to transform the entire city into one mammoth celebration. One could walk from block to block for miles and never be out of earshot of people singing or bands playing or raucous toasts being offered to the glory of France. The spell even finally captured Garrett, who'd previously shown little interest in the festivities except as they related to the Caldwell Pavilion. On the third night of that golden week, he appeared at Mason's door dressed in evening attire and announced, “I'm taking you out on the town.”

Mason tried to beg off. “Richard, thank you, but I'm exhausted. Lisette and I have worn our shoes out over the past few days. I don't think I have an ounce of energy left.”

“Nonsense,” he replied. “The world is celebrating and I feel like celebrating with it. I shall wait right here while you dress.”

“I really couldn't,” she protested.

He smiled at her persuasively. “Come now, of all the merriments going on in the city, there must be one you're aching to do.”

“Well…” She reconsidered. “There
is
actually one thing I've been wanting to do, but I've tried to get tickets and it's impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible. Especially in Paris. Especially not tonight.” He came closer and put his hands on her shoulders. “Tell me, what is it you're dying to do?”

She moved away. The strength of his hands on her felt too welcome. “Lisette is debuting her new tightrope act all this week at the Folies-Bergères. I'd love to see it, but even she couldn't get me in. It's booked solid with a waiting list.”

He gave her a cocky grin. “The Folies-Bergères it will be. You get dressed. I shall return for you in an hour.”

 

Later that evening, the maître d' of the Folies-Bergères escorted them through the waiting crowd, across the vast floor to a ringside table. When they'd been seated, Mason said to Richard, “These are the best seats in the house. I don't suppose it would do any good to ask how you came about them?”

He shrugged. “You just have to know the right people to ask.”

As he ordered a bottle of champagne, Mason penned a quick note to Lisette. Folding it and giving it to the waiter to deliver, she told Richard, “I want to let Lisette know we're here. She won't believe it.”

As they sipped their champagne, the lights dimmed and the master of ceremonies stepped into the spotlight. “Ladies and gentlemen, the management of the Folies-Bergères is proud to present to you tonight the Princess of the Highwire, the tantalizing Toreadoress of the Tightrope, the Lady Godiva of the Air, the one and only Lisette Ladoux.”

Dressed in a flesh-colored sequined costume that bared her legs and left little to the imagination, her blond hair flowing like sunshine, Lisette bounded onstage, then gave a curtsey to the audience and a wink to Mason. Then, with the litheness of a pixie, she mounted a white trampoline in the center of the stage, leapt up and down several times to gain height, then did a dazzling backflip onto a tightrope suspended high above.

For the next twenty minutes, she dazzled the crowd with her acrobatic feats and playful personality, purposely coming close to falling several times, eliciting gasps of apprehension from the crowd, followed by relieved laughter when they realized it was a gag. She charmed them, thrilled them, frightened them as the lights gave her costume the illusion that she was naked all the while.

When it was over, even Richard rose to his feet and applauded enthusiastically. “I had no idea she was so talented,” he conceded to Mason. As they sat back down, he leaned close, and added, “Shall we go?”

“Oh, no. There's more to come.”

The master of ceremonies returned to the stage, extolling Lisette's praises. Then he announced the next act. “All the way from Bucharest, Romania, the greatest mesmerist the world has ever known, Valentin the Magnificent.”

Richard groaned. “Not a bloody hypnotist.”

“No, no, we have to stay. Lisette says he's really amazing.”

“A load of rubbish, hypnotism.”

“Now, Richard, don't be a spoilsport. You wanted me to have a good time, didn't you?”

The Romanian took the stage, intrigued the audience with a few introductory remarks, then asked for volunteers. None were forthcoming. “I can see that you fear I will put you under and expose your hidden self to the world. Most wise of you. So allow me to ask this: Who among you here is the greatest doubter of my art? The one who has just said to his mate, ‘The man's a fraud'?”

Mason laughed, grabbed Richard's hand, and thrust it high. He raised a brow but didn't object.

“Ah, here's a candidate. And of course, it's a man. The doubters are always men. Come on up, good sir. May we have a seat for the gentleman?”

Lisette, still in her provocative costume, came out with a chair and received another rousing round of applause. A man in back called, “Mesmerize Lisette and have her take off her clothes!”

Valentin wagged his finger. “You would like that, would you not, my naughty friend? Alas, wouldn't we all?”

Lisette blew the man a kiss as the crowd laughed.

In the meantime, Richard had taken his seat. “Good luck, old man,” he said to the hypnotist. “You'll need it.”

Valentin placed a hand on Richard's pulse, asked him to look deeply into his eyes, and told him to count slowly backward from fifty.

Unable to suppress a contemptuous grin, Richard began, “Fifty…forty-nine…forty-eight…”

As Richard counted, the mesmerist continued to hold his gaze and murmured too softly for the audience to hear, “Relax…relax…relax…”

When he was finished counting, Richard asked, cheekily, “Now what?”

“Now nothing. You're in a trance.”

“Am I? You could have fooled me.”

The audience laughed.

“When I clap my hands, you will wake up from this state and remember absolutely nothing that has happened from the time you sat down in this chair. But for the rest of the evening, when you hear the words
World's Fair,
you will scratch your head and say, ‘
Viva la France
.'”

“I hardly think so.”

Again, there was laughter.

Valentin nodded to Lisette and said to the audience, “I am going to have this gentleman go backstage and have a little rest. In the meantime, I'd like two more volunteers. You can see how ineffective I've been with this gentleman. Perhaps that will give you courage.”

As Lisette helped Richard to his feet and led him to the wings, Mason rose and went to join them. Behind the curtain another chair had been set up. Valentin rushed back to them and said hurriedly, “Be quick about this. It makes me appear a fool.” Then to Richard, he asked, “How do you feel, young man?”

“Completely in control of my senses, thanks,” Richard assured him.

“He doesn't look any different,” Mason said.

“Let's test it. Have you been enjoying the World's Fair?”

Instantly, Richard scratched his head and said,
“Viva la France.”

“Excellent. Now I want you to close your eyes.”

He did.

The hypnotist instructed, “I want you to answer every question these women put to you with complete honesty. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

Valentin nodded to them, and said, “Go ahead.”

“Are you sure?” Mason asked.

“Of course I'm sure.”

He went back onstage to his two new volunteers. As his voice droned on, Mason and Lisette crouched down in front of Richard's chair.

Mason asked, “What is your occupation?”

“Lover of art,” he replied.

“No. What is your employment? Your profession?”

“I work for the Pinkerton Detective Agency, Chicago, Illinois.”

Mason's heart stilled. Was it possible this was going to work, after all?

“You have a tintype of a pretty dark woman that you value greatly. Who is that woman?”

A brief hesitation. Then, “My sister…Molly.”

Mason grew excited now. This
was
going to work. It was going to give her a privileged portal to the man's soul.

Lisette asked, “How did you really like my act tonight?”

“I thought you wore a tad too much makeup.”

“Stop it,” Mason hissed. “Don't waste this on foolish questions.”

“I could see,” he added, “how someone of your aerial skills could be valuable in my profession.”

“Me?” Lisette asked.

“Never mind that,” Mason said. “Tell us how you really feel about the paintings of Mason Caldwell?”

“No other works of art have ever moved me so deeply. I can think of no greater privilege than to serve them and make them known to the world.”

His reply warmed her, but there were tougher questions yet to come. “Have you ever suspected that Mason might not really be dead?” It frightened her just to say it out loud.

“Yes, I have suspected that.”

She exchanged a glance with Lisette, who asked, “And do you still?”

“No, I gave up that notion.”

“Why?”

“There's no evidence.”

“None?” Mason asked.

“Nothing substantial. I realized I was only being overly suspicious. In my profession, I've learned if I can't support a thesis with concrete evidence I have to give it up.”

Mason took a breath. “What are your feelings for Mason's sister Amy?”

“I've fallen in love with her. I love her sister's paintings, but I love Amy as a woman. I've never felt this way before. There's nothing I should like more than to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to hold her, protect her, cherish her until the day I die.”

The words were so unmistakably from the bottom of his heart that even Lisette couldn't help but tear up. “Ooh-lala,” she sniffed.

Mason sat back on her heels. On the one hand, she was ashamed of herself for violating his privacy this way. But to hear such words coming from such a guarded man…She'd never loved him more.

She wanted to ask why he'd never told her, but at that moment, Valentin returned. “Your time's up,” he announced. Then he grabbed Richard by the arm and took him back to the stage, where the two later volunteers were executing a humiliating duckwalk. He sat Richard back down in the chair while Mason returned to her table. Then he clapped his hands.

Momentarily, Richard asked, “Well? When do we begin?”

There was some faint snickering in the audience.

“Before we do, let me ask you a question. Have you been enjoying the World's Fair?”