Hidden Huntress
Page 102
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She snorted softly. “Don’t patronize me. You could have that for the price of a ticket.”
“Her company, then.”
“You’re in the practice of paying for your… company? Or is Cécile to be first in a line of many?”
“No,” I said, my voice chilly. I did not like this woman. The expression in her eyes was flat and calculating. None of her questions were driven by a desire to protect Cécile, but rather to determine whether the longevity of my interest was worth the investment. “But I am in the practice of using what means are at my disposal to make those I care for happy.”
“I see.”
Nothing would be gained from prolonging this conversation. I needed to leave, but any excuse would look like an attempt to flee her scrutiny.
I was rescued by an approaching servant, his face dismayed.
Coming close to my arm, he said, “Monsieur, I’m afraid there has been an incident.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Of what sort?”
He grimaced. “I’m afraid your manservant has overindulged and passed out in the middle of the kitchen floor. What would you have us do with him?”
I closed my eyes, my expression pained. “How terribly embarrassing.” To Genevieve, I said, “I hope your injury does not trouble you long, Madame. Perhaps we will cross paths again soon.” I hesitated before adding, “My proposal would benefit you as well. Please think on it.”
I followed the servant into the kitchen, where Chris was indeed lying snoring, in the middle of the floor. “Don’t know what got into him. He was fine, then all of sudden he set to drinking as though this hour might be his last.”
I scowled and nudged Chris with my foot, but he would not rouse. “Two of you get him up.”
They took him round the back while I retrieved my hat and cloak, then the four of us went out to where a cab waited, the tired-looking horse standing patiently in the snow.
“Put him in the back.”
“It’s extra if he vomits,” the driver declared.
“The Hôtel de Crillon,” I said, not bothering to grace the comment with an answer. I sat silently on the thinly padded bench until we were on our way, and then I said, “That was clever thinking.”
Chris sat up, if somewhat unsteadily. “Heard Genevieve had arrived, and it was clear enough that you needed a way to escape.” He hiccupped.
“Well, it worked. Did you learn anything of interest tonight?”
“Might be I did.” Another hiccup.
“Well?”
“They were gossiping about you and Cécile. Apparently half the reason you’re in Trianon is to rekindle your love affair.”
“And the other half?”
“To take over the Isle with your frivolous spending of your father’s hard-earned gold.”
I smiled. “Anything else?”
“I…” Another hiccup, and his face went pale.
“Don’t you…”
He summarily threw the liquid contents of his stomach up all over the floor.
“Dare,” I finished with a sigh, then dug an extra few coins out of my pocket.
Forty-One
Cécile
I was stirring my breakfast around my plate when a knock sounded at the door. Dropping my fork with a clatter that made my mother start, I bolted to the door before the maid would have a chance to answer it.
“A delivery for Mademoiselle de Troyes,” the boy on the stoop said, holding out a box embossed with the name of a popular and very expensive confectioner, along with a card.
“Thank you,” I said, the smile on my face threatening to crack my cheeks. “If you could wait a moment, I’ll have you deliver a card for me.”
Extracting a truffle from the box and popping it into my mouth, I flipped open the card and read.
Dearest Cécile,
I hope this note finds you well and in possession of as demanding a sweet tooth as I remember. I have recently arrived in Trianon, but I find myself unable to enjoy the pleasures of this city for want of your delightful company. I’ve been invited to this evening’s performance of the ballet, but feel I must decline if I cannot attend with you on my arm, for to be in the theatre that is your domain without you would render the experience lackluster. Please say you will find space in your calendar so that I might retrieve you from your mother’s residence at 6pm.
Yours,
TdM
My skin flushed hot with pleasure and excitement – a welcome change from the frustration that had been eating away at me more and more each day. I knew what we were undertaking was serious – that we were deliberately attempting to incite a five hundred year-old witch into attacking Tristan, and in doing so, revealing herself. But it had been five days since I had seen him; I could not help the thrill of anticipation I felt.
I’d never been courted. All the boys in the Hollow had known I was leaving and hadn’t bothered, and for obvious reasons Tristan had been unable to do so in Trollus. In my more indulgent moments, I’d felt a bit robbed, and that made me want to enjoy this moment, despite the underlying motivations.
Eating another truffle, I went to the desk and extracted a card.
Monsieur de Montigny,
Your taste in sweets is, as always, divine. It would be my pleasure to attend the ballet with you this evening. I shall see you at 6.
Cécile
I gave it to the delivery boy with a coin and instructions on where to bring it. Shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it and closed my eyes, licking the traces of sugar from my lips.
“Her company, then.”
“You’re in the practice of paying for your… company? Or is Cécile to be first in a line of many?”
“No,” I said, my voice chilly. I did not like this woman. The expression in her eyes was flat and calculating. None of her questions were driven by a desire to protect Cécile, but rather to determine whether the longevity of my interest was worth the investment. “But I am in the practice of using what means are at my disposal to make those I care for happy.”
“I see.”
Nothing would be gained from prolonging this conversation. I needed to leave, but any excuse would look like an attempt to flee her scrutiny.
I was rescued by an approaching servant, his face dismayed.
Coming close to my arm, he said, “Monsieur, I’m afraid there has been an incident.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Of what sort?”
He grimaced. “I’m afraid your manservant has overindulged and passed out in the middle of the kitchen floor. What would you have us do with him?”
I closed my eyes, my expression pained. “How terribly embarrassing.” To Genevieve, I said, “I hope your injury does not trouble you long, Madame. Perhaps we will cross paths again soon.” I hesitated before adding, “My proposal would benefit you as well. Please think on it.”
I followed the servant into the kitchen, where Chris was indeed lying snoring, in the middle of the floor. “Don’t know what got into him. He was fine, then all of sudden he set to drinking as though this hour might be his last.”
I scowled and nudged Chris with my foot, but he would not rouse. “Two of you get him up.”
They took him round the back while I retrieved my hat and cloak, then the four of us went out to where a cab waited, the tired-looking horse standing patiently in the snow.
“Put him in the back.”
“It’s extra if he vomits,” the driver declared.
“The Hôtel de Crillon,” I said, not bothering to grace the comment with an answer. I sat silently on the thinly padded bench until we were on our way, and then I said, “That was clever thinking.”
Chris sat up, if somewhat unsteadily. “Heard Genevieve had arrived, and it was clear enough that you needed a way to escape.” He hiccupped.
“Well, it worked. Did you learn anything of interest tonight?”
“Might be I did.” Another hiccup.
“Well?”
“They were gossiping about you and Cécile. Apparently half the reason you’re in Trianon is to rekindle your love affair.”
“And the other half?”
“To take over the Isle with your frivolous spending of your father’s hard-earned gold.”
I smiled. “Anything else?”
“I…” Another hiccup, and his face went pale.
“Don’t you…”
He summarily threw the liquid contents of his stomach up all over the floor.
“Dare,” I finished with a sigh, then dug an extra few coins out of my pocket.
Forty-One
Cécile
I was stirring my breakfast around my plate when a knock sounded at the door. Dropping my fork with a clatter that made my mother start, I bolted to the door before the maid would have a chance to answer it.
“A delivery for Mademoiselle de Troyes,” the boy on the stoop said, holding out a box embossed with the name of a popular and very expensive confectioner, along with a card.
“Thank you,” I said, the smile on my face threatening to crack my cheeks. “If you could wait a moment, I’ll have you deliver a card for me.”
Extracting a truffle from the box and popping it into my mouth, I flipped open the card and read.
Dearest Cécile,
I hope this note finds you well and in possession of as demanding a sweet tooth as I remember. I have recently arrived in Trianon, but I find myself unable to enjoy the pleasures of this city for want of your delightful company. I’ve been invited to this evening’s performance of the ballet, but feel I must decline if I cannot attend with you on my arm, for to be in the theatre that is your domain without you would render the experience lackluster. Please say you will find space in your calendar so that I might retrieve you from your mother’s residence at 6pm.
Yours,
TdM
My skin flushed hot with pleasure and excitement – a welcome change from the frustration that had been eating away at me more and more each day. I knew what we were undertaking was serious – that we were deliberately attempting to incite a five hundred year-old witch into attacking Tristan, and in doing so, revealing herself. But it had been five days since I had seen him; I could not help the thrill of anticipation I felt.
I’d never been courted. All the boys in the Hollow had known I was leaving and hadn’t bothered, and for obvious reasons Tristan had been unable to do so in Trollus. In my more indulgent moments, I’d felt a bit robbed, and that made me want to enjoy this moment, despite the underlying motivations.
Eating another truffle, I went to the desk and extracted a card.
Monsieur de Montigny,
Your taste in sweets is, as always, divine. It would be my pleasure to attend the ballet with you this evening. I shall see you at 6.
Cécile
I gave it to the delivery boy with a coin and instructions on where to bring it. Shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it and closed my eyes, licking the traces of sugar from my lips.
