Page 79 of Our Strange Duet

“Mother is so excited to meet you,” he said, wholly oblivious. “Come, come!”

Raoul helped me from the carriage and led me up the steps. The château was even more impressive as we stood before it, and it took everything in my power to not tilt my head up, looking like the slack-jawed simpleton I knew Raoul’s mother must believe me to be.

“Vicomtesse,” I said in greeting, and fell into my best and deepest curtsy.

“Dowager Vicomtesse,” she corrected, and the edge in her voice was as sharp as her angled eyebrows.

“Of course,” I said, falling into a second curtsy. I dipped my head low, praying she’d not noticed the flush of red staining my cheeks. “It’s an honor to meet you. Raoul has…” I paused, suddenly unsure if I should have referred to him so informally. “He’s told me so many wonderful things about you.”

When I dared to glance up, I found her expression wholly unreadable. “I’m so glad one of us has been well informed.”

“Oh, come now, Mother,” Raoul said, offering his elbow to speed us inside. “I wrote ages ago saying we were coming.”

“You,” she corrected. “You said you were coming.” She threw a glance over her shoulder to me. “Forgive my surprise, child. I’ll have the staff make up a room for you once we’re all settled.”

I nodded, daring to believe I’d misunderstood the situation. She didn’t dislike me; she disliked surprises. Now that she knew I’d be here for the visit and everything was settled, all would be well.

She frowned once more. “Close the door behind you. You’re letting in all the cold air.”

I hurried after them, hopes plummeting.

Chapter 26

“Did you like your squab, Miss Daaé?” Madame de Chagny asked once we’d finished our evening meal.

We were in the formal dining room, surrounded by marble columns intersected with soaring painted murals of oversized florals in shades of blue. Tall candelabras dotted the long table, and all of the serving ware—the plates, goblets, and every piece of cutlery, down to the last demitasse spoon—was engraved with the de Chagny coat of arms.

“Yes, madame. I’ve never…I’ve never had its equal.”

In truth, the small bird had been dry and gamey.

The corners of her lips rose, but I wouldn’t exactly say she smiled. “It’s always been Raoul’s most favorite meal.”

We’d been together in Deauville for three months, and I’d never seen him so much as consider squab on a menu, but that was hardly a thing I’d voluntarily tell her.

I wondered then, had my own parents still been alive, what it would have been like to have a meal with them. Would Father have laid a heavy-handed claim over me, emphasizing all the ways in which he knew me better than Raoul did? Would Mother have studied him with cool, narrowed eyes, tabulating each and every one of his perceived shortcomings? I’d obviously never know for certain, but I hoped not.

I thought Raoul and I a perfect pairing. Our temperaments were well matched, and I felt we brought out the best in one another. It hurt that Madame de Chagny, apparently, disagreed.

I could feel her frequent glances at my ring. Her eyes zipped from it to Raoul and back again, like a nervous hummingbird.

Raoul had spent the dinner asking about the estate, musing over needed repairs and future improvements he planned to begin.

“We’ll certainly need to freshen up the music room for Christine,” he said, chattering away with a blithe disregard for the building tension.

Madame de Chagny’s eyes darted from the ring up to my face. It was the first time our gazes had met all evening. “Oh! Do you play many instruments, Miss Daaé?”

“Christine is a most talented singer. One of the Opéra Populaire’s finest,” Raoul said, answering for me.

A brief flash of alarm flickered across his mother’s countenance, and I noted the way her nostrils flared. “You’re the singer?”

I didn’t know what to do but nod.

Rather than respond, she motioned for the butler to begin clearing away the plates.

“Well,” she said, once the servants had come and gone. “We all must get a good night’s rest. There is much to do tomorrow.”

Raoul had told me that every year, in the week after the vineyard’s harvest, his mother threw an elaborate fête to celebrate. Dozens of families were invited to a banquet dinner and a night of dancing.