Rhoda ignored the silence that fell at her entrance into the dining room of the Excelsior Hotel on Justin's arm, her pale grey eyes searching the tables until they fell on the playboy Anton Deveroux, distinguished son of the French hotelier, Lord Anton Deveroux Senior, owner of the Excelsior and many others as luxurious around Paris. Leaving Justin to deal with the Maitre d' who came to greet them.
"Table Six!" Justin's voice broke the silence and his imperious tone dared the maitre d' to protest the tables vacancy.
"Please, Monsieur! We want no trouble. There has been some mistake...the booking...!" Jean-Paul replied vexed, recognising as did most of the diners, the famous model and her escort, noted for their penchant for trouble in many restaurants the world over.
"Table six!" Justin repeated coldly, his eyes implacably stern. "You received my reservation booking for Madam Roche?" He added, realising the maitre d' was trying to steer them away from it.
"But the...!" He saw Justin's look and halted his protest. "This way, Monsieur et Mademoiselle Keats." There was no further protest made and Jean-Paul led them to table six, where he made the formal overtures of his position, helping Rhoda into her chair and summoning the wait staff to take their orders, Rhoda's reaction to the name he used, putting a glint of steel behind her smile.
Justin sat down opposite her, their glances clashing at the resumption of the noise around them, a sense of relief releasing silent tongues. "It seems everyone knows why you are here." He gave Rhoda a slight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "More than I do." He muttered to himself. He knew only too well the result of the maitre d's reminder of her former existence as Rhoda Keats; cook's assistant on a Middle Eastern camel train which travelled the Silk Road, it's boss having sold her at the age of nine, and the cook, to become servants to the Harem of Sheikh Ben Ali of Alif, in the hot desert near the Persian Gulf; where her reputation for trouble had begun as a child. He could see her eyes glazing over as her memories bombarded her mind; of the attacker who had put her in hospital at four years old, of the death of her mother when she was nine, the reason the caravan boss sold her and the cook; of the torment caused by a neighbouring prince who had constantly harassed her whenever they met.
Rhoda's actual memories were fearful and of constant rape, of being handcuffed to a bed in a prison cage in the dungeon's of her father-in-law. The memories were painful and shaming, his son's intention to get something from her, which she didn't have to give, so the torture had continued. She shuddered and forced the memories away, Justin's presence keeping her from screaming.
"They think they do." She replied, before conferring with him over their menus, letting him pass their orders to the waiter and taking the opportunity to look around the elegant dining room; at the elite diners in their jewels and designer gowns, not one bought off the rack. She recognised almost everyone, through her work in Paris and often mixing with the elite set, her fashion house the draw to these money'd people, some of the women here tonight, wearing her exclusive House de la Roche designs.
"Why are we here?" Justin asked once they were alone, their meals ordered.
"I didn't have time to explain." Rhoda settled her gown of vermilion silk around her feet, a matching pashminer falling freely from her bare shoulders, her lips forming a pout of impatience. The previous week, Justin had been in London England leaving Rhoda in Paris where she had suffered a migraine attack; which always caused her to be unfit for work; mostly spent sleeping in a dark room to aid her recovery; her menstrual cycle's effect on her each month.
"When you boarded the plane for your week in England, I was approached by a woman in the airport cafe, who asked me to make enquiries for her into the association of her husband and his secretary. She said she was the wife of Lord Anton Deveroux, formerly Lady Jane Hillingdon-Smythe. She asked me to be here tonight. The fact that I am who I am, is supposed to put him on guard that his wife knows of his affair and there-after will give up his mistress." Rhoda sighed, stemming Justin's intended protest, knowing what he was going to say.
