Heaven Scent (11 page)

Seraphina drew a bottle out of the bag. ‘Our great-grandfather was the first official “nose” in the family. My twin brother is named after him but, sadly, he’s missed out on the talent. That all went to Xavier.’

Cat turned the bottle over in her hands, realising she remembered it from her mother’s dressing table. It was a slightly old-fashioned bottle with a large stopper and swirly writing but it had a sophisticated air about it. She lifted the stopper and sniffed; the fragrance was familiar – sweet, floral and enduring.

‘And Xavier and your mother created L’Air Sensuel together,’ she said, referring to the brochure again.

Seraphina produced the relevant bottle from her bag with a flourish.

‘ “A rich, sweet fragrance featuring green fig with honey notes,” ’Cat read aloud. She took the bottle and sniffed. The perfume had become a celebrity favourite; it had been followed by a lighter, summer version, as well as a moodier alternative with a musky base note. Xavier, clearly the most innovative of the family, had also, according to the brochure, developed a series of seasonal eau-de-toilettes that hit the top ten lists every summer and every Christmas because of their universal appeal and youthful accents.

‘I’ve worn these,’ Cat realised, recognising the packaging. ‘I bought them in duty free. They’re gorgeous.’

‘They’re sold as a pack of three,’ Seraphina said, handing them over. ‘The first is sharp and zesty, the second a romantic, floral concoction, and the final one is a rich “gourmand”. See, I know my perfumes – well, the family ones, anyway. Especially these ones. They’re Xavier’s best creations, I think.’

Cat wasn’t entirely sure what a ‘gourmand’ was but she knew she liked it; that particular fragrance had been one of her favourites. She felt her keen advertising mind spark up with interest as she skim-read the rest of the brochure. Elizabeth had obviously married into the family rather than being an original Ducasse, so her talent for perfume blending had been purely coincidental. But it had been much needed.

‘Here comes Max,’ Seraphina commented, spotting her twin’s dark head in the distance. ‘I’m surprised he’s managed to prise himself out of Vero’s clutches. Vero’s this nasty girl Max has been hanging out with, you see. She goes to our college but she’s older than us and she’s bad news.’ Seraphina fiddled with her ponytail. ‘Max is . . . he’s a bit mixed up at the moment. Problems with our father but he never talks about it. I don’t even know if Max himself knows why he’s so angry, to be honest.’

Cat raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She wasn’t about to update Seraphina on Max’s smoking but she hoped his drug habit didn’t spiral out of control. Glancing at him, she noticed that his longish dark hair flopped over his face, obscuring his eyes, but his cheekbones were to die for. Now they were together, Cat could see the resemblance between Max and Seraphina, even though she was as fair as he was dark.

‘I thought you might be out with Vero,’ Seraphina said slyly.

Max scowled. ‘We’re not joined at the hip, you know.’

Cat squinted up at him. ‘I’m Cat. I’m not sure we’ve been properly introduced.’

Max shook her hand politely, his ever-present scowl lessening slightly. ‘I saw you at the party,’ he said, his liquid brown eyes meeting hers as if he was daring her to say she’d seen him doing drugs.

Seraphina frowned. Max hadn’t mentioned seeing Cat at the party.

‘Did you?’ Cat shrugged and met Max’s gaze. ‘I can’t say I remember. It’s nice to meet you finally, anyhow.’

Relieved, he squatted down next to them. ‘You actually look as though you’re reading that,’ he said, swatting the brochure.

Cat closed it. ‘Seraphina made me, but to be honest, it’s fascinating. I had no idea the process of scent creation was so personal. I love it that the idea behind L’Air Sensuel was “sticky, hot Provençal summers, fig and honey compote and romance”. Your mother sounds so creative.’ She glanced sideways at them. ‘Sorry, does it upset you if I talk about her?’

They both shook their heads. ‘Not at all,’ Max mumbled, looking emotional. ‘It’s just . . . no one talks about her around here.’

‘Really? How strange.’ Cat wondered why that was. ‘All right, so I’m attending this family meeting but I don’t have a clue who does what.’

Max sat up. ‘Well, we’re just shareholders so no one lets us make any decisions yet. Our father is managing director of the whole company and Leoni is creative director. She also looks after the team of staff who package up all the perfumes for us.’

‘Grandmother looks after press and advertising,’ chimed in Seraphina, ‘which she usually does from her office in Toulouse. She’s only here now because . . .’ She stopped, looking embarrassed.

‘She wants to make sure I’m dealt with,’ Cat finished for her sourly. ‘It’s fine; I know the score now. And what about Olivier, what did he do?’

Max grinned. ‘Well, loosely speaking, Olivier was in charge of sales but he didn’t do much selling. He was really just Leoni’s sidekick when it came to supporting her in meetings. She comes up with all these outlandish ideas and everyone thinks she’s nuts but Olivier always used to stick up for her.’

‘Leoni’s really sweet when you get to know her,’ Seraphina offered earnestly. ‘I know she seems really aloof and scary but that’s only because no one takes her seriously in the business.’

Having only seen Leoni venting her spleen like a fishwife, Cat remained unconvinced. ‘What about your father?’

Max’s expression became bitter. ‘Oh, he’s like Leoni, he’s all about the business.’

Seraphina nodded sadly. ‘It’s true. It’s pretty much all he cares about.’

Cat watched them, wondering why they seemed so hurt. Guy, despite the way he had deceived her, seemed like a genuinely caring man so what was stopping him from connecting with his children?

‘And Xavier?’ Cat glanced at the glamorous photo on the back of the brochure, wishing her only other view of Xavier hadn’t been him skinny-dipping in the family pool.

‘He’s like Olivier,’ Max said with a laugh. ‘He loves women, has several on the go at the same time. Lucky bastard,’ he added enviously.

Seraphina shot him a glance. Xavier was nothing like Olivier! Trust Max to say something immature like that.

Cat didn’t really like hearing about Olivier and all his women but he had told her he’d been a bit of a playboy in his time. As for Xavier, sleeping around was just the sort of shallow behaviour she’d expect from him. From what she’d seen, anyway. ‘I meant, what’s Xavier like when it comes to the perfume business?’

Seraphina looked glum. ‘He’s not involved any more. He used to be the family nose, he’s so talented and intelligent but he’s just not interested, not at the moment, anyway. He stepped out around two years ago.’

When Elizabeth died, Cat realised. ‘Your mother’s death has affected you all greatly,’ she commented gently.

Max looked away. ‘The riding accident . . . it was devastating for all of us.’

Cat frowned. A riding accident? That was the reason Olivier had given for his own parents’ deaths. Did they all go around falling to their death from horses? It was unlikely but Cat couldn’t bring herself to question it, not right now.

‘But it wasn’t just our mother’s death that made Xavier step out of the business,’ Seraphina commented. ‘There was also this woman—
ow!’ Jumping, she glared at Max who had just elbowed her, hard.

‘Shut up!’ he hissed. ‘You know Xavier hates being talked about.’ He spoke rapidly in French. ‘He’d go mad if he knew you were saying things about him . . . he thinks she’s insane, remember?’

They didn’t realise how good her French was; Cat understood every word. She smarted, wondering why Xavier had been bad-mouthing her.

‘That’s so rude! He doesn’t even know her,’ Seraphina defended Cat hotly.

Max stood up. ‘He said she must be mad to have got married so quickly, that only crazy people do things like that.’ He rolled his shoulders. ‘I reckon he’s got a point.’

Cat went scarlet. She hadn’t even spoken to Xavier! Yet apparently he had formed a very clear opinion of her.

‘I think she’s been very unlucky,’ Seraphina hurled back. ‘All those women Olivier was stringing along just before he went to St Tropez . . .’ Suddenly noticing Cat’s expression, Seraphina clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘You understand what we’re saying,’ she gasped, mortified.

Cat just nodded.

Max shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Seraphina. ‘Please don’t start thinking badly of Olivier.’

‘Really?’ Cat met her eyes. ‘I think we both know I probably should.’

Seraphina got to her feet. ‘I’m really sorry.’ Slowly, she walked away, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.

Left alone, Cat felt angry tears pricking her eyelids again. She gritted her teeth and pushed them back. Who were you, Olivier? She asked silently. Why did you marry me if you had a stable of other women? And why didn’t you tell me about Ducasse-Fleurie?

If Olivier really hadn’t been the genuine, loyal man she thought she’d married, Cat thought, feeling her heart constrict painfully, that turned everything upside down.

 

Xavier glanced upwards to search for the next handhold. He was halfway up Ceuse, the northernmost cliff in the Alps, which some said was the best and most beautiful cliff in the world. Certainly the orange and blue-streaked crest of limestone perched at the top of the Ceuse massif was exceptional.

Tethered to the cliff face by cables from the heavy-duty belt around his waist, he was totally focused on pulling on those handholds and balancing on footholds. He found climbing Ceuse hard, it pushed his body to the limits, but that was why he enjoyed it so much. It released his mind and enabled him to think clearly.

Xavier paused to take in the breathtaking view, dazzled by the blue and gold streaked limestone. His mind drifting, he wondered what had happened at the meeting with Cat Hayes. He couldn’t imagine it being much fun and he wouldn’t be surprised if she had gone by the time he got back if his grandmother had anything to do with it. He would find his grandmother simply terrifying if he didn’t know her; as it was, he found her austere and frosty – and he was allegedly her favourite.

Xavier slotted the toe of his boot into a small pocket, wondering how the hell he was going to secure his next draw. He wished Therese hadn’t come with him, even if she was sat in the car. She always found his rock-climbing tedious, yet she insisted on accompanying him all over Provence. Sometimes he just needed a break from her.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Matthieu. Matthieu was a friend of Olivier’s whom Xavier occasionally went climbing with. ‘Are you contemplating the view, Ducasse? Come on, I bet I can beat you to the top.’

Xavier never could resist a dare. Shrugging off his thoughts about Therese and Cat Hayes, he matched his friend’s handholds and bounces with increasing vigour. This was what it was all about! Xavier reached the top seconds before Matthieu and as soon as he’d unclipped himself, he rolled over and stared up at the sky.

‘Can’t believe you managed to beat me,’ Matthieu moaned, lying down next to him, exhausted. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything; I should have just charged past you.’ He glanced at Xavier. ‘What were you so lost in thought about, anyway? That red-headed girlfriend of yours?’

‘Therese?’ Xavier shook his head. ‘Not really. She’s pretty but she’s not the most intelligent person I’ve ever met.’

Matthieu shrugged. ‘Does she need to be brainy? With tits like that, I could forgive her lack of intellect. Hey, shame about Olivier.’ He took a swig of water and offered the bottle to Xavier. ‘I read in the paper about his widow turning up. Was that the one he used to take to Morocco all the time?’

Xavier shook his head and frowned. ‘Morocco? No, he met her in St Tropez, of all places.’

‘Really?’ Matthieu looked puzzled. ‘Olivier always said he hated St Tropez. Still, he went wherever there were girls so he wasn’t exactly choosy.’ He paused and sat up. ‘I could have sworn the girl he was nuts about a while ago used to meet him in Morocco a lot.’ He took back his water bottle and shrugged.

Xavier thought Matthieu must be mistaken – but then Olivier had no doubt enjoyed liaisons with girls all over the place.

Sometime later, Xavier joined Therese in the car. She was slumped over her book in the front seat, clearly bored senseless.

‘You took your time,’ she grumbled. ‘I’ve practically read this entire novel.’

Xavier doubted it. He doubted Therese had finished a novel in her life, not even one by Jackie Collins. ‘You could always join me next time,’ he suggested mildly, wondering what on earth they actually had in common.

Therese shuddered. ‘What, crawl all over a massive mountain with just a rope and a bit of metal holding me up? No thank you.’ She looked affronted. ‘Why do you like doing such dangerous things, anyway? You’ve got all the money in the world, can’t you just play polo or relax on a speedboat like ordinary rich people do?’