She raised a single eyebrow. “If I were a gentleman, I would call you out for that.”
Aldric laughed quietly. “Not that brother.”
“Ah.” She didn’t keep her amusement as fully tucked away as he did. “In my defense, knowing full well how remarkable Henri is, I did not for a moment assume I reminded you of him.”
“We all feel that way about our Archbishop.” Henri had been given that sobriquet very quickly after joining their brotherhood. “Only Stanley was as altruistic as Henri.”
“But I have never heard Stanley described as having been ‘saintly,’” Céleste said.
Aldric grinned. “Certainly not.”
They passed under a marbled arch and into the Colonnade, a perfectly circular courtyard nearly two hundred feet across, encircled by a marble wall made of thirty-two identical, connected columned arches. Four of the arches were the entrances to a courtyard. Centered beneath all the others were matching fountains; a single spray of water sprang upward from every one of them. At the center of the circle was yet another exquisitely carved statue, this one a depiction of the abduction of Persephone from Greek myth. There was not a single inch of Versailles that was not elegant and majestic.
“I had forgotten how lovely the Colonnade is.” Céleste looked around with obvious pleasure as they slowly made their circuit of the courtyard.
“And I had forgotten that, beautiful as this spot is, there are no benches for sitting on.” He was not proving a very reliable strategist just then. “We can find another place to stop, though that would mean walking farther.”
“I don’t want to leave so beautiful a spot yet.”
He didn’t know if she was attempting to spare his pride at having made her walk to a place where she could not actually rest or if she truly felt equal to continuing to be on her feet. Either way, he found himself reluctant to argue with her.
And in that exact moment, a man, dressed in workman’s clothes, slipped inside the Colonnade. He carried pruning shears in one hand and a wooden bucket in the other. Shears. A gardener, then.
“Pardon me a moment,” Aldric said to Céleste and crossed toward the serendipitous arrival.
The gardener dipped his head in acknowledgment when Aldric neared him.
“Would your family name happen to be Chauvin?”
The man shook his head. “But there’s quite a few working here from that family.”
“I need to speak with a member of that family who would have been employed here at least fifteen years ago.”
“Marcel Chauvin’s been here thirty years at least,” the man said. “Are you needing to see him urgently?”
“Yes, actually.”
“I’ll find him and bring him back here.”
Céleste wasn’t so far from them that he could be certain she hadn’t heard the exchange. She likely thought him odd to be searching out a gardener. But she’d chosen earlier not to pry and, he hoped, would continue to do so.
She shifted her gaze from the carved depictions of various Roman emperors above the columns to the statue at the center of the Colonnade. She didn’t quite hide her yawn. He really ought to have taken them to a place with benches.
“Let’s find somewhere for you to sit,” he said, crossing to her once more.
She shook her head. “You need to be here when the gardener returns with Marcel Chauvin.”
She had overheard.
“I have no desire to see you laid low by unnecessary exertion,” he said.
Céleste offered him a soft smile, and his misbehaving heart fluttered again. “You are taking great pains to ensure my well-being.”
“If you collapse in exhaustion,” he said, “Henri will never forgive me.”
Her expression froze a little. “Henri.” A tight smile pulled momentarily at her features. “Of course.” She took a quick breath. “I truly am not on the verge of fainting. Even if I were, Henri is, as we pointed out, something of a saint. He would forgive you.”
She resumed her walk, her gaze on the carvings once more. But her posture was not as relaxed; her air was not as peaceful. Was she upset with him? Why? He’d thought they’d passed an enjoyable afternoon.
