"Let's see what's in the next room," Laila suggested brightly when Florian had been staring at the painting for several minutes. The blond had been his usual self earlier in the day but had grown more tense as the day progressed. He'd barely been able to keep up his end of the conversation at lunch in a street cafe and he'd grown almost eerily quiet since they'd arrived at the museum.
When her suggestion went unanswered, Laila took a quick glance around and, seeing that they were alone, pinched Florian's hand.
"What was that for?" he demanded, rubbing the injured area. He'd kept his voice low, mindful of where they were but even now, he barely glanced away from the painting.
"I want to see something else," Laila insisted, linking her arm in his and tugging him towards the door. She towed him into the next room and stopped in front of a large, cheerfully bright painting of flowers. "This is better." She pretended to be interested in a detail of the painting leaning a bit to the side and using the movement to cover her glance at Florian's face. The blond wore his familiar pleasant expression but his eyes betrayed his turmoil - he looked positively haunted.
Making a decision, she grabbed his arm again and rose up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. To the few other patrons in the room it might look like lovers sharing a secret, but the reality was much less romantic; Laila was telling him her feet hurt. It might not have been the truth exactly - her shoes were a little uncomfortable - but it had the desired effect of getting Florian out of the museum.
They settled on a little bench in the museum gardens with Florian fussing a bit before she convinced him she only needed a few minutes of rest.
"I shouldn't have worn new shoes for a day of walking," she told him. "We'll just sit for a few minutes and then we can walk back to the hotel."
Normally Florian would insist on taking a carriage, but he simply accepted her decision and turned his head to look up at the sky. It was a lovely day, the sky a brilliant azure with a few fluffy white clouds.
"I could listen." Laila was looking at Florian but she turned away quickly when he looked at her. "I'm a good listener." Florian smiled politely and was about to decline her offer when she gripped his hand and leaned closer, almost urgently. "I know we don't always... agree, but it's not that I dislike you. It's just... I don't understand about Ray. But I don't have to. I can still try to help, because... there's something wrong and maybe..." She averted her eyes, letting go of Florian's hand. "Maybe I could help."
It was the closest Laila had ever come to offering her friendship and Florian accepted it gratefully. He loved Ray, but there were times he wondered if that was enough. Sometimes it was lonely in that house where Florian was neither servant nor master.
"Thank you, Laila. I'm just a bit distracted today. I... had a dream last night. About... Morocco... and all day I've felt as though something was wrong. I know it's foolish to worry but..."
"Come on, then." Laila hopped up and grabbed Florian's hand to pull him to his feet. "You'll feel better once we get to the hotel and see Ray and maybe we'll convince him to have an early dinner." That earned her a genuine smile and a laugh - Laila's appetite was nearly legendary.
The walk back was uneventful until they were crossing the park near the hotel. Without warning, a young man in nondescript dark clothing raced up behind the pair and shoved his way between them. Laila was able to catch her balance by grabbing a bench, but Florian landed on his hands and knees on the gravel path.
Laila shouted after the man while Florian climbed to his feet. He looked down at his trousers ruefully, wondering how he might mend the jagged tear caused by the gravel.
"Are you alright, young man?" A pair of women who'd been strolling through the park had seen the incident and came over to fuss over the striking blond. They were soon joined by a woman with a baby carriage and a middle-aged man who'd been cutting through the park on his way to a meeting. Florian blushed and thanked them all for their concern but he reassured them he was unharmed. It might have been successful if he hadn't brushed his hand against his face to push away a stray hair and left a streak of blood behind.
The ladies took charge after that, sending the others on with thanks and insisting on accompanying Florian and Laila back to their hotel, using the time to tell them about the many lovely places in the city that they simply must visit. When they arrived in the lobby of the hotel, the more forceful of the two ladies went to explain matters to the concierge while Laila and the other lady settled Florian in a chair in the lobby. Florian tried his best to convince the lady that he was fine but she refused to leave, settling into an armchair beside him and trying to convince him to contact the police.
"Excuse me, sir." The hotel manager arrived along with the other of his rescuers, the lady who had gone to speak to the concierge. She'd introduced herself but, in the confusion, Florian hadn't caught her name and he was too embarrassed to ask. Florian started to rise but the manager motioned for him to remain seated. "Please accept my apologies, sir. That something like this should happen in broad daylight. You will permit me to have your trousers mended, if you please. And I insist that you and your companions have some complimentary refreshments. Unfortunately your Count Courland is out or I would ask him as well." He turned and motioned to a young woman who'd been hovering in the background. "Escort these ladies to the sun room if you would." He turned back to Florian. "If you'd allow me the liberty of serving them while you freshen up?"
"It's not necessary, sir. This was certainly not your fault. It was just an accident."
"Be that as it may, I would not want it to color your opinion of our magnificent city. Please, accept this small gesture on behalf of the good citizens here." The manager was laying it on thick, but he'd already had an encounter with the temperamental Count Courland and he didn't want the man to return to find his... secretary... in such a condition.
"It would be my pleasure, sir." Florian rose and bowed to the ladies before returning to his suite. He washed and changed as quickly as he could, wincing at the bits of gravel that had dug into his hand. He'd have to ask Laila for some salve later. The knee would need looking after as well, it felt as if there were bits of gravel still stuck there. Giving the suitcoat a quick scan, he decided it was undamaged and simply left it on the chair to be brushed and tended later. Washed and dressed, he picked up the torn trousers and hurried back downstairs to find the manager.
He joined the ladies with a nod of greeting, gratefully accepting the cup of tea that one of them poured for him. They seemed to be in the middle of a rather complicated story so he took a sip of tea and settled back to listen, glad that he was able to pick up their first names at least.
The woman in dark blue, who seemed to be the spokesman of the pair was named Matilde and she was doing most of the talking, about parties she'd attended in Brussels and who she'd met. Occasionally Cora, the smaller lady would interject but mostly she just sipped her tea and looked around, as if taking note of everything in her sight.
They lingered for quite a while and Florian was beginning to feel rather warm and uncomfortable in the glass room. He shifted in his seat and wished he could take off his coat, but he was afraid it would only encourage the ladies to stay longer.
He took another sip of tea and caught Laila watching him with concern. He gave her a smile and returned his attention to Matilde.
At last the tea and cakes were gone and the ladies seemed to be out of stories. Florian thanked them again and rose to escort them out to the lobby. He felt a bit lightheaded as he stood, and had to clutch at the table for a moment, but he brushed off their concern lightly and offered them both his brightest smile. In the lobby, he offered his hand to Cora and she admitted that she'd been hoping to meet his Count.
"Do you know Count Courland, Madame?"
"Only casually, my dear. We've seen him, and you of course, although I'd quite forgotten until just now while we were talking, at the Countess Kourey's gala. We never miss it."
"Indeed not, Cora. Well, except for that time I was in America. It was quite a disappointment."
Florian had no idea which had disappointed her - missing the party or America. He'd never been to America but it was so large and exotic sounding that he couldn't imagine it being a disappointment. Pulling his thoughts back to the present, he realized that his vision was blurring at the edges and blinked rapidly to clear it. He could feel sweat dripping down his back and desperately wanted to get upstairs and lie down. If only the ladies would leave.
"Forgive me, ladies. We've taken far too much of your time." He leaned forward to give them a half-bow when he heard Laila call him sharply. He turned his head to look at her just as a wave of blackness swept in from the edges of his vision and he pitched forward right into Matilde's arms.
::end chapter 6::