This seemed to intrigue him.
“And what would that be?” Bastien asked, leaning cheekily on the sewing machine until he was a hairbreadths away from her face.
Celine took off her glasses and peered up at him. “Try as you might, you won’t ruin my relationship with Jacques.”
A slow grin pulled at his lips, making her skin prickle with anxiety. “Maybe if you were really in love with him I would have a harder time. As it happens, you’re making things quite easy, Celine.”
“Iamin love with him,” she protested. Immediately, her fingers came up to her wrist with the urge to scratch it. “And I’ve already told him about the contest.” Another lie. Her nails dug in. “And you.” And another. “And he is fine with it.”
She stopped herself before she could scratch her skin raw.
“Is he now?”
“Yes.”
Bastien studied her face for a long second. Then glanced at her wrist. “You are such a beautiful liar, Celine LeBeau.”
Celine failed to look casual as she strained to hide the marks. “Why do you care?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your issue is with Jacques,” she pressed. “Why do you care whether I love him or not?”
Bastien withdrew his hand and rolled his shoulders back as if to remove a kink. “I don’t,” he said, a little too defensively.
“Very convincing.”
“I donot.”
“Then stop asking me about it, if you want us to be friends.”
Miffed, he moved away from her work table and settled on the divan, stretching his long legs over the arm rest. “Looks like we’ll be here a while.” He picked a book from the stack on the floor and opened it with flourish. It was from his own collection (Bastien had claimed her grandmother’s attic library was severely lacking in scandalous affairs). “Should I read to you?”
Celine was used to his mercurial moods by now. One moment flirting, the next second serious, and the next apathetic. So she waved for him to proceed. As long as she got a few hours of peace to finish the gown before having to return home, she would welcome and weather any capricious tidal wave coming from Bastien. He managed to make it through one chapter fromThe Age of Innocence—adding in the occasional innuendo he assumed the dialogue needed—before the book slipped from his sleepy fingers and even breathing replaced his voice.
Chapter 15
Disownment and Roses
Bastien drove up to the Ménard mansion after Celine woke him up with a pillow and made him try on the gown five times to check for errors. He had decided then that she was a raving perfectionist.
As he parked his car, he could see the main gate standing wide open and letting out a string of clamour caused by whatever was going on inside. An uproar of feather-dusters dancing on every surface, caterers moving carts of food into the foyer, and maids bringing crates of wine and champagne from the cellar reached him. A butler was up on a ladder, meticulously rubbing down the crystals on the chandelier. Another one was balancing cocktail glasses on top of each other to form a precarious pyramid for the champagne fountain.
Right, Bastien recalled. The soirée was tonight. His grandfather was famous for the annual masquerades he hosted to make sure his guests contributed to whatever philanthropic cause he was vouching for that year. The members of high society loved to think of themselves as charitable, however, they wouldn’t bother donating to anything if there wasn’t something in it for them. Entertainment was expected—opportunities where magnates could strike deals and brag about their latest acquisitions, be that in business or a second wife. And where better for them to mingle than at a party.
The second Bastien entered the house, he heard the patter of paws skidding on the polished floor, nearly knocking into the crystal pyramid. Jekyll and Hyde leaped onto him a moment later, smearing their mud-covered paws all over his jacket.
“Hey, hey, down,” Bastien warned. But no matter how much he tried to jostle his head back, the Dalmatians kept licking his face obstinately. “Down! I know you’ve missed me, but Juliana’s apartment can barely fit us two. You know I can’t take you with me.”
Jekyll and Hyde finally stepped back, though not without putting on an act. Whining, they flattened their ears and lowered their heads just as Anaïs had taught them to do whenever they pleaded for more snacks. And right now, they were definitely pretending. Bastien knew his sister had been spoiling them to no end since he’d left the mansion.
“Okay, okay,” he gave in. “I promise I will take you two for a walk once my period of exile is over.”
Their act cracked, and the dogs started wagging their tails about, ready to launch themselves at him again, when a pair of annoying footsteps approached.
“Ah, look!” Jacques chimed from the foyer. “It’s Mary Magdalene.”
The Dalmatians turned around apathetically. They had grown too used to Jacques to fully launch upon him or growl at the intervention.
