As soon as his brother was at a prudent distance, Étienne spoke, his voice low. “You should not consider it. Not even for a moment.”
“Consider what?” Hector asked. Antonina Beaulieu hovered not too far from them, milling about a small circle of people. He wondered if Gaetan resembled her. He’d not seen a picture of the man. Did he sport that dark hair and the long fingers that might have belonged to a pianist? Beaulieu! A thrice-damned Beaulieu.
“Don’t act the fool. Valérie Beaulieu. You lost your head for her,” Étienne said.
“Ten years ago,” Hector said coolly, attempting to conceal any emotion in his voice.
“Ten, but I still recognize that look,” Étienne assured him.
Hector did not reply, his eyes following the movements of Miss Antonina Beaulieu across the room. He made up both an excuse and his exit after that.
Chapter 2
NINA COULD NOT SAY THATshe was truly taken with Loisail. The possibilities the city offered were exciting and it was a lively place, but there were many rules she did not understand, many people whose names she could not remember, all the protocols and details only the seasoned resident could grasp. Furthermore, she missed her mother and her sister. She missed her home, which was not as elegant as her cousin’s but which struck her as more inviting. She missed her beetles and her butterflies and was horrified when she considered all the species she would not be able to collect that spring.
But despite her homesickness, Nina understood that this was a great opportunity. The time spent in Loisail would allow her to refine her ways—there was no place as sophisticated and modern as Loisail, they said in books and newspapers—and it would permit her to make valuable connections. Most of all, the city might yield a suitable husband.
She knew well the kind of man her mother expected her to marry. A fellow from a decent family, with an excellent reputation and a generous amount of money at his disposal. It was all good and proper to marry a viscount, but when he came with a withered estate in dire need of repair, the coat of arms lost its luster. Nina’s sister, Madelena, had wed a respectable physician and a member of the neighboring Évariste family.It had pleased their mother, but Nina thought their tale lacked romance. Madelena and her husband had played together since they were children. Everyone assumed they would wed. Madelena’s husband hardly even really courted her, knowing the answer even before he asked.
Nina dreamed a different outcome. The romantic novels she had read imprinted on her the notion of a dashing suitor. She’d read of men who inspired women to blush prettily, who made their hearts hammer in their chests, who could cause a girl to swoon. She’d read, yes, but never experienced it. Montipouret offered her only the well-intentioned neighboring boys from the Évariste estate and the serious, subdued Delafois. Boys who neither caught her attention nor were keen to court her. The city, though. The city could yield the chance of romance. While her mother was expecting only a suitable match, Nina was hoping for the romance of a lifetime followed by the grandest wedding imaginable.
She’d had no luck. Young, cosseted, she wished for someone dapper, like the men in her books. Didier Dompierre was the only boy who had made any serious attempt to pursue her, and Nina could not possibly picture him in a romantic light.
But that morning, as Nina dressed with the assistance of Lisette, the lady’s maid Valérie had assigned her, she thought maybe her luck had changed: she could not get Hector Auvray out of her head.
He’d danced three dances with her. Three! Surely that meant something. She might have asked Lisette for reassurance on this matter, but the maid was prickly and resented being pressed into service of the youngest Beaulieu on account of Nina’s restlessness, which often manifested with the levitation of objects across a room. In particular, Nina misplaced shoes. A single shoe would wind up on a side table, the mantelpiece, or some other place. Nina didn’t intend to do any of this, it was a tic, but that did not mean Valérie screamed any less at Lisette, taking it out on the poor maid.
Lisette adjusted the collar of Nina’s dress and made sure her hair was impeccable—Cousin Valérie was particular about her hair. Nina was running late, what with her daydreaming, and the maid huffed. Valérie was also keen on punctuality. Nina quickly made her way to Valérie’s room, knocking twice.
“Come in,” Valérie said. She was still in bed, her hair undone, and in a robe, but she looked practically perfect, as was always the case. Herroom, too, was all for show, resembling the displays at the department stores downtown.
“Good morning,” Nina said. “Lisette said you’re not feeling well.”
“It’s another one of those dreadful migraines.”
Valérie had just had a migraine the week before, the night before the De Villiers’ ball. Secretly Nina had been pleased that Valérie decided to stay home. Valérie’s attention to detail, her rules and demands, was stifling. When they went out in public, Valérie expected the world of Nina.
“Should I head to the park on my own, then?”
This was one of those city customs that Nina did not understand even though Valérie had explained it to her. It was of the utmost importance that twice a week between the hours of nine and ten they walk or ride around the nearby White Park, which was one of the largest parks in the city. The point, Valérie said, was to be seen. All the notable women in the city would—at least once a week—take a leisurely excursion through one of the popular green areas. Valérie scheduled her visits with rigor and chose the mornings because to stroll in a park in the evening, she confided, would be invariably crude. In the evenings a lady should be attending a party or a dinner, heading to the theater or the opera, not walking around in the semidarkness. Nina, who caught fireflies in the twilight hours during the summer, could only nod.
“I think you should be able to manage without me,” Valérie said.
“Are you certain? I could stay and read to you.”
Valérie pressed a slender, graceful hand against her forehead. “It would do no good. Go on and be sure to return by noon.”
“I will.”
Nina kissed Valérie on the cheek to mark her departure, a gesture the older woman did not seem to enjoy. Five minutes later she arrived at White Park, Lisette in tow. Nina might have walked it but took the carriage, as Valérie would have. It was fine to walk in the park, but a lady should reach it by carriage. It struck Nina as a bit ridiculous. She had walked to visit the estates of the Évaristes and the Delafois a number of times, and even walked into the village. Why, it practically took longer to get into the carriage and out of it than to reach the park by foot. But once again, Valérie had laid down the rules for her.
By carriage it was, then. Rather than walking the perimeter of thepark, which was what Valérie did in an effort to be seen, Nina decided to rebel in the absence of the older woman. In the center of White Park, there was a pond. One could rent a wooden boat and row from one side of the pond to the other, or else sit on a bench. That was where Nina went, circling the pond and tossing crumbs to the ducks, sometimes without even touching them. When she ran out of them, she asked Lisette to purchase another bag of crumbs from the boys who sold them around the park.
The maid rolled her eyes at Nina. “That is for the country folk visiting Loisail for the first time,” Lisette said. She had been born and raised in the city, and now reminded the young girl of this with her huffy tone.
“I don’t care who does what and who doesn’t. Fetch me a bag of crumbs,” Nina said, trying to imitate Valérie’s imperious voice. She did not succeed. Instead, Lisette took off murmuring under her breath.
Valérie paid careful attention to the people around her, but Nina would often grow distracted. It was no surprise that, alone and without her maid to swat her arm, she did not see Hector Auvray until he was but a couple of paces from her. She had been occupied following a duck and raised her head too late.
