The French Aristocrat's Baby Read Online Free

all knew each other, and word travelled around their clique at the speed of light. The rich stuck together in their own little world. People like her were expected to fetch and carry, and take all the flak. It was so unfair.
    It was a relief for Gwen to retreat from the social whirl into the organised chaos backstage. This was the world she knew, and a place where she was in total control. Outside in the restaurant she was expected to be constantly charming and beautiful—something ornamental rather than useful. Here in the noise and movement of the kitchens, she could be herself. She could concentrate on producing the best and most beautiful meals her customers would ever experience. Until that evening, the satisfaction of a job well done had been enough for her. But now something threatened to come between Gwen and her work.
    She had been introduced to something—or rather, someone —far more potent. Etienne Moreau was already affecting her behaviour. As she’d confronted that drunk she had known the handsome count was watching her. A situation that made her feel like running for the hills had had to be faced in a way she knew would impress him. She needed him to see her in action as the perfect hostess, and totally in control.
    Because whenever she glanced in his direction, control was the last thing on her mind.
    Etienne saw Gwen’s confrontation with her guests, and how she handled it. It was quite obvious Le Rossignol’s chef-patron was a woman who knew her own mind. He admired the cool way she managed to defuse the situation herself. Defuse but not disarm , he thought, making a mental note to mention the bad behaviour he had seen to some of his more influential friends. He recognised the villains, and they would find themselves excluded fromsociety’s more discerning events from here on in. Not that it’s any of my business , he warned himself, annoyed that the little drama should have unsettled him so much.
    For once, when his stepmother begged to parade him in front of a few more of her friends, he was glad of the distraction. While she was busy showing him off, she couldn’t return to her favourite subject of what a superb wife and countess her niece would make. That alone would have been a good enough reason to submit to a tour of the gathering, but Etienne had a darker motive. He wanted to keep an eye on the lovely Gwyneth Williams. A natural at moving through polite society, Etienne could appear perfectly charming while his mind was occupied with something else. Tonight, there was only one thing concerning him. Covertly, he watched Gwen as she went about her work. When the rowdy group of men summoned her again he stiffened, noticing a subtle change in her attitude. Her beautiful, heart-shaped face was a carefully managed mask of indifference, but tension was obvious in her rigid bearing and hesitant footsteps. The second she got close enough, one of the group reached out as though ready to paw the smooth curve of her rump. Gwen leapt away with a cry but before she could say anything more Etienne was there, confronting her attacker.
    ‘Leave her alone,’ he commanded.
    ‘Says who?’ The young man lumbered to his feet. It was obvious he had been drinking before he arrived at the restaurant, and was now well beyond the stage of either good manners or good sense.
    ‘I do.’ Etienne’s voice was as cold as a blade, and he felt no need to identify himself by the age-old title ofCount of Malotte. Tonight, everyone who was anyone knew who he was.
    ‘Like I care about that!’ The drunk swayed, then without warning took a swing at Etienne. Gwen shouted a warning, desperate to save the handsome stranger who had stepped in on her behalf. It was the worst thing she could have done. Distracted by her cry, Etienne was a split second too slow to avoid catching a glancing blow to the side of his jaw.
    The party erupted in a flurry. In one smooth movement Etienne seized the drunk and pinioned his arms behind his