That didn’t answer her question. But considering what was said earlier, it wasn’t hard to guess. And it must have happened before he had switched her costume.
Celine just couldn’t understand the logic behind it. For somebody who had made a big deal about wanting to be friends, Bastien sure changed his mind quickly. It only rekindled her desire for reprisal.
“The night doesn’t have to be ruined entirely.” She flashed Jacques a sweet smile and downed the second flute. “Anaïs is mysize, right? Perhaps I can borrow one of her dresses. I will come and find you before dinner, okay?”
Jacques cupped her cheek, locking their gazes for one serene second. The guests and the music faded away and Celine considered staying. Why follow after Bastien, when nothing was out of place with Jacques? When everything was alright, despite the mix up, and they could easily avoid more drama now that Bastien had found entertainment elsewhere?
But Jacques broke their peace with a soft kiss on her cheek. “Don’t be too long, hmm?” Then strode away, leaving her to the brewing storm of her thoughts.
• • •
Celine stepped out into the pavilion, tracing a procession of fireflies with her eyes as they decorated the darkened sky in an excess of stars. Having checked almost all of the upper floors of the mansion, save for Monsieur Ménard’s office, and having found not even a piece of lint belonging to Bastien, she had decided to pursue the gardens, where the scent of oranges tickled her skin, clinging to her like a perfumed mist. Music boomed from inside the house and gravel crunched underneath car tires as a few late-comers entered through the gates. But the pavilion remained quiet. Empty.
Save for Jekyll and Hyde, Bastien’s Dalmatians, who were tied to their shared kennel. They whimpered excitedly when they heard Celine approach.
“Poor babies,” she pouted, scratching behind their ears. “Have they tied you out here because of the party?”
Hyde nudged her palm with his nose in affirmation. She gave him a quick kiss on the heart-shaped spot on top of his head.
“You two haven’t seen that insufferable owner of yours, have you?”
She expected them to growl at the epithet—Milady would have certainly hissed—but they simply turned their heads towards the balconies in unison. Celine frowned.
“You two are undoubtedly Bastien’s creatures. I didn’t mean Jacques.”
Hearing the name, Jekyll lowered his head, ignoring her. Hyde followed suit.
“Petulant babies,” Celine muttered, rising to her feet once again. She took a deep breath of the night air, held it for several seconds, released it, and sat on one of the pavilion benches. It did nothing to soothe her irritation. Her left hand fell to her wrist, fidgeting with the silver bangles stacked on her arm, until she pushed them up and mindlessly started scratching the soft skin there.
Truth be told, she wasn’t sure what had driven her to be headstrong about this. She could easily brush it off, chuck it up to a bad night, and pretend it had never happened. She could blame it on the champagne Bastien had drank, or whatever else had possessed him to send her the Cleopatra costume.
Bastien was simply…being Bastien. But a prickling sensation kept roaming beneath her skin, separating it from the muscle in the most unbearable way, and it wasn’t dissipating no matter what Celine tried.
If anything, it intensified the longer she tarried by the pavilion.
Bastien had probably left the party entirely with Jeanne. Celine would only be wasting time if she kept looking for him. Time she should be spending with Jacques.
Deciding to return inside, she let the silver bangles slide down on her wrist again when she heard a rustle of skirts behindher. Celine stopped. She listened harder for the sound to repeat itself. When it did, it was followed by a soft sigh.
“Someone will see…” It was a female voice, trailing off into the night.
“Let them,” came the reply. “It will only make their dinner more interesting.”
Celine stiffened.Thatone was Bastien’s.
Craning her neck, she peered behind one of the pavilion’s white pillars. The faint colour of blue skirts swished in the breeze.
No. It wasn’t the breeze that was moving them.
Bastien’s hands were buried deep into the folds of Jeanne’s dress, peeling the layers away one by one.
Celine quickly looked away, pulse ratcheting. She couldn’t make up her mind if she wanted the earth to split open and swallow her whole, or some other natural disaster to strike and whisk her away from there. To her dismay, her throat involuntarily produced a gasp that ricocheted through the pavilion.
“Did you hear that?” Jeanne asked, pushing Bastien away for a moment.
Celine froze.
“It was probably just a vermin,” Bastien replied. “Now focus,chérie.”
