Forbidden by Susan Johnson (best feel good books txt) 📗

rearing discounted the relevancy of nobility, but de Vecs had been a power in France too long, his family descended from the early kings, his family's courage and honor sustenance to France in its battles for supremacy and empire, their bloodlines represented in all the princely families of the Almanach de Gotha. He wished that heritage passed on to his children.

He'd give Bourges two more weeks, he decided, in the hope some progress could be made in the divorce process; he'd delay his return to Daisy for that further period. His railroads were preserved, his income secure; only the divorce eluded him.

That evening, after days of coaxing from Valentin, the Duc decided to accompany him and Adelaide to a showing of prints and paintings by a young artist who'd become a celebrity since his brilliant poster for France-Champagne had appeared on the streets of Paris in March. An exhibition of Pierre Bonnard's posters, music illustrations, and color lithographs were being shown at the gallery Le Bare de Boutteville. The critic Felix Fen-eon in the avant garde magazine Le Chat Noir had been quick to recognize the sensual edge implicit in the France-Champagne poster and welcomed the appearance of Bonnard's "serpentine and cruel eroticism" on the streets of Paris, voicing in symbolist terms what was perhaps the vast appeal of the poster to the lay public.

"You can buy yourself some of Bonnard's sweet and demonically exuberant nudes," Valentin had said with a smile. "He's done some lithographs, I'm told, of women bathing."

"Would Daisy like them, do you think?" Etienne asked, with a faint smile, "because I'm so reformed from my past I'm no longer inclined to buy for my pleasure alone."

"The critical press has been arguing about Bonnard's increasing fascination with the 'woman question,' so even an independent female like Daisy might agree with his portrayals. And Senator Berger may appear in his guise as head of the morality police. He's been demonstrating against the exhibit in the Senate. Such a spectacle could be entertaining."

"Rene's fervor against the feminist press and displays of sexuality is always amusing."

"You'll come then."

"I'll buy a print for Daisy."

Senator Berger was indeed there in full flower as the upholder of the moral order of the Republic and the Duc was amused. He watched from a location near the doors, so he was close enough to distinguish the beads of sweat breaking out on Rene's forehead as the pompous guardian of France's morality denounced the relaxing of the censorship laws—cause for these displays of eroticism and sexuality. The "animal" in woman was considered just as dangerous to the established order as the anarchist and foreigner, in the Senator's mind, a theory Etienne found difficult to support. Personally, he'd always preferred a woman of nerves and caprices to sweet perfection.

Like Daisy, he thought. A woman who not only inspired but aspired to dominate; a woman who invited one to participate in her sensual splendor. A woman who didn't see sexual identity as an issue—only women's status. He grinned, listening to Rene ex-postulate on the increasing difficulty in distinguishing good women from bad, how displays of provocative sexuality like Bonnard's posited a serious disruption to the social order, how these black-stockinged women contributed to the moral decay of French society. Daisy would have been livid; the Duc thought.

His smile was erased from his face a moment later, however, as he caught sight of Isabelle, half concealed behind a large woman in fuchsia silk. He recognized the de Vec emerald beneath her egret headdress first, and when the woman in fuchsia leaned to one side to speak to a companion, Isabelle's face became visible.

They hadn't spoken directly since her visit to his apartment, all the recent machinations over the railroad stocks done through intermediaries. And while she'd lost that particular fight, he'd come away with the feeling she hadn't seriously cared; she'd been willing to help his partners only because of the possibility they might succeed. With no crucial need for money, victory wasn't essential. Isabelle's adamance on the divorce was unchanged however; on that her stand was clear.

A moment later, as the crowd began to disperse at the conclusion of the Senator's harangue, Isabelle's companion became visible too. A young seminary student stood at her side, his plain cassock obviously tailored by Kriegck. The Duc recognized Paris's premier tailor's characteristic shoulder seam. A wealthy young novitiate, Etienne mused, knowing the prices charged at the exclusive tailor's.

Hadn't the young man been at the house on occasion? His face looked vaguely familiar. Maybe it was his pale blond hair, more distinctive as a characteristic than his youthful good looks.

Strange. He'd never paid attention to the priests constantly in attendance on Isabelle. As if the prejudice in his dislike for his cousin-in-law the Archbishop, and the dogmatism in church doctrine, had obliterated the individuality from all the black-frocked guests of his wife.

As he watched them from his sheltered position near the bunting-draped entrance hall, he observed an astonishing display. Isabelle slid her hand down the young priest's back to a point distinctly south of his waist. Her movement masqueraded in a step she took to better view a print, was gracefully discreet, but staggering to behold. Especially to the man who'd been the recipient of her disdain for his own sexuality.

He must have been mistaken, he decided a moment later, too many years of conditioning causing him to doubt his eyes. And though he kept Isabelle in sight amidst the crush of viewers for sometime more, no further lapse in her conduct occurred.

But back at his apartment later, in his nightly letter to Daisy, the Duc remarked on the transient glimpse.

I stood gape-mouthed for a moment, he wrote Daisy, at the incredulous possibility. Also, he continued, writing in a swift easy rhythm, alluding to another less fantastic facet of sexuality, I bought you some prints of females bathing that are engaging assimilations of the Japanese style. They're of new and contemporary females, I'm sure you'll find to your taste… socially ambiguous