Bastien let out a chuckle. “Of all the people who have asked me that before, I never thought you would make it on the list, Celine darling.”
“BASTIEN!”
“Alright, alright. Just hold your breath so I don’t pinch you.”
Celine did as she was told. The stitches she had made were provisional, only one thin thread looping in and out to attach the pieces together. It merely took one swift movement for Bastien to bunch up the fabric and rip the bodice in half. Star-shaped buttons flew everywhere, filling up the attic and each visible crack in the floorboards. The rest of the gown rippled at her feet.
Celine clutched her arms around herself, trying her best to preserve whatever bit of modesty she could. But to her utter disbelief, Bastien had turned around, letting his gaze wander aimlessly about the room.
“Leave them to me,” he said, waving a hand at the buttons. “I’ll stay here and sew them on. You go put on another dress and meet Jacques.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Now, unless you want him to find you standing half naked in front of me…”
“Merci,” Celine uttered quickly. She gathered the dress she had on earlier and scurried behind the folding screen. Through its flimsy blinds she could see Bastien drape the tattered gown over the mannequin again, pinning it in place with needles.
Was he really going to sew the buttons on one by one?
She didn’t have time to overthink it, for the bell rang again, sounding, if possible, even more annoyed. Grateful for the lack of buttons on her other dress, she smoothed out the short sleeves, threw a pink sash across her shoulders, letting it flow behind her.
“I’ll take my leave now,” Celine said, combing her fingers through her hair, straightening the mess Bastien had made of the strands. “If you actually stay, feed Milady a treat once in a while. She gets grouchy otherwise. And take her home for me. Francine always answers the door, so you shouldn’t worry about running into my mother,” she instructed, ready to leave, when Bastien called her back.
He had been oddly quiet since the dress had come off.
“Your lipstick...” he broke off. Tentatively, he crossed over to her, and licked the edge of his thumb, using it to wipe away a smear of pink from the corner of her mouth. “We don’t want Jacques finding out, right?”
Celine stood unmoving for several, panicked heartbeats.
“Stop worrying that pretty forehead. I offered to teach you a few things and that’s it. I won’t tell,” Bastien promised. “I’m rather fond of my face, especially my nose, and I have a feeling that’s what Jacques will aim for if this little tidbit gets out.”
Forcing herself to believe him, Celine nodded. “We will talk tomorrow. Don’t be late. Or suffering from a hangover.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
• • •
Bastien stepped away from the window after watching Celine get into the car and drive off with Jacques. The hairpin he had found at the steps of Maison Baudelaire was still in his pocket. He had come to bring it to her, to use it as an excuse for showing up after days of silence. And then he planned to apologise.
He had done none of that.
Bastien brought a cold hand to his lips to erase the searing sensation that lingered on them. “Why did you have to ask for a kiss, Celine LeBeau?”
The only answer he got was a melodic meow from Milady.
He should be thrilled. There was nothing better than a kiss he could use against Jacques. Instead Bastien only felt guilt. Guilt that he had almost gotten her kicked out of the competition and guilt that he had treated her poorly at the soirée.
Maybe he just needed to set things right. Surely, there had to be something Celine would want from him, other than getting back at him for the masque.
Bastien dragged his eyes along the floor where several more star-shaped buttons lay scattered—he had a dress to fix first. “Come on, Milady. We’ve got work to do.”
“Meow!” The cat stretched, jumping from the seat by the window, and curled herself around his ankles.
“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, petting the soft space between her ears. “Treats first, I know.”
Chapter 20
That Annoying Thing Called Conscience
