Elise’s amusement vanished. “My father?” she asked, stunned.
Francesca nodded. “Yes. Louis Martin.”
Elise just stared, her mind racing. Lucien had specifically told her he didn’t want anyone here in Chicago to know of their former connection. She’d made a point of not talking about her family or her past because she didn’t want people to start to see the possible previous connections between Lucien and her. Lucien’s desire for anonymity coincided with her own desire to start a new life.
How was she supposed to respond to Francesca?
“Your father is Louis Martin, right? The famous fashion designer?” Francesca prompted.
“I . . . he . . . How did you know that?” Elise sputtered.
Francesca’s expression fell. “I’m sorry. Did you not want people to know?”
I don’t know what I want, Elise thought anxiously. She wasn’t sure what secrets Lucien wanted her to keep and what he didn’t. Why was he always so infuriatingly vague about all that?
“It’s just that I hadn’t told anyone here. I’m trying to start out fresh in a new place.”
Regret went through her when she saw Francesca’s crestfallen expression. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up—”
“It’s okay, really,” Elise assured. “I just don’t understand how you knew Louis Martin was my father.”
“Ian told me,” Francesca admitted. “He knew that I was obsessing about the perfect dress for a beach wedding—casual but elegant, simple but classic—all the characteristics your father is known for. Ian suggested I speak to you about the possibility of contracting your father for a design.”
“He did?” Elise asked numbly. Lucien was not going to like this. Plus, knowing Lucien, he’d think it was somehow her fault that Ian and Francesca knew about her family.
“How could Ian have possibly known I was Louis Martin’s daughter? Is he that involved in French fashion?”
Francesca studied her face anxiously. “Not specifically, but Ian is very aware of the goings-on in the European business community. He spends a lot of his time in Europe. And Ian just has a way of . . .” She blushed. “Finding out things about people,” she finished, an apology in her eyes.
Of course. For a business mogul like Ian Noble, knowledge was power. She’d been admitted into the realms of his private penthouse. If he was smart—and Ian was reputedly brilliant—he wouldn’t have done that without having at least a minimal check done on her background to assure she wasn’t a thief or spy.
She was processing all this when Francesca spoke again. “Again, I’m sorry, Elise. I didn’t realize you were trying to keep your background secret. I knew you didn’t offer a lot of information, but I just thought it was modesty on your part. Even at the engagement party, I heard Ian ask Lucien if you were Louis Martin’s daughter, and Lucien confirmed that you were.”
Elise blinked, shocked anew. Lucien hadn’t made a secret of her past to Ian? She was bewildered. Precisely what was it he had been warning her to be circumspect about all this time? She thought he didn’t want her bringing up things that would create any suspicion on Ian’s part, but he clearly didn’t think her background or family or status qualified. Irritation flickered through her at his refusal to open up in regard to this Ian Noble business. If Elise did screw up, it was no one’s fault but Lucien’s for not being more specific about what he wanted kept secret. He was leaving her to walk around blindly in a landmine.
She shrugged and smiled at Francesca, determined to do her part to keep the waters smooth for her and Lucien.
“It’s not a big deal. I’d be happy to talk to my father about it. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to design something for a friend of mine. When he sees you, he’ll be inspired.”
Francesca’s dark eyes went wide. “That’s so sweet of you,” she said quietly. “Are you sure, Elise? I really didn’t mean to be so tactless about a . . . a sensitive issue. I should have realized you want to be recognized on your own merits, that you’re trying to make a life for yourself outside of the shadow of your family. I’m forever sticking my foot in my mouth,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elise said, stepping forward and touching Francesca’s elbow in reassurance. “I was just surprised you knew I was Louis Martin’s daughter, that’s all.”
“I’ll explain to Ian how you feel about a fresh start, and we’ll be sure not to mention your family to anyone. He’ll understand,” Francesca assured. “But that’s not all—I also wanted to ask if you and Lucien would come over to Ian’s penthouse Monday night for dinner.”
“That would be lovely, but I owe you an invitation first. You asked us last, for the engagement party. I’m sorry I haven’t reciprocated. Things have been so busy with work.”
“Nonsense,” Francesca said, waving her hand. “There’s no reason to be so formal about a casual dinner, is there?”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Elise said hesitantly.
“Of course I’m sure. Please say you’ll come. Ian has been under a lot of stress lately. To be honest,” Francesca added quietly, “I’m concerned about him. He works so hard, and it’s been necessary for him to spend a lot of time away from home recently. It would do him good, to relax with friends, and Lucien always seems to have such a good effect on him.”