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She’ll be livid when she hears about my marriage.
The worst part is that I’m not allowed to tell her it isn’t real, that it’s just to satisfy Grandpa’s whim and avoid being disinherited. For an entire year—twelve endless months—I’ll have to act like Camille is my wife. That won’t sit well with Magdalena. She’ll likely decline Royal Riviera’s offer, even if her agent recommends she accept. And I won’t blame her. She and I had a tacit understanding that a relationship between us was part of the deal.
Will Celeste or Jonas be able to persuade another A-lister? What will happen to the movie if they fail? What will happen to our production company? To the studio?
Part of the reason I agreed to this charade was to save the studio. It hadn’t occurred to me that my marriage to Camille may seal its fate. My cousins won’t understand why I would humiliate Magdalena like that. They’ll resent me for the fiasco and rightfully so. I won’t be surprised if they turn their backs on me.
Who and what will I be left with then? What will make me tick? Will the diplomatic service be enough? Or will the void in my soul turn me into my debauched father?
The thought fills me with dread.
CHAPTER8
CAMILLE
“Are you comfortable, Mademoiselle Mussey?” Jacques, the butler, catches up with me just as I’m about to enter my room.
His insistence on calling me “mademoiselle” when the rest of the staff, including his wife, address me as “madame” is telling. I think he’s still clinging to the hope that the marriage will fall through.
“I am, thank you,” I say.
He gives me a long, hard look. “Is there anything you require?”
“Nothing, thank you.” I meet his gaze, refusing to be intimidated.
“Any special arrangements you’d like to be made? Any favorite products or foodstuffs you’d like us to order?”
“No, I’m good.”
“What is your favorite mineral water?”
“I drink tap water.”
All but rolling his eyes at my plebeian ways, he shifts from one foot to the other as if he’s deciding whether to say something more.
I wait.
“Mademoiselle Mussey,” he finally says. “You spent most of yesterday and today in the servants’ quarters.”
“Is that a problem?”
He attempts to smile. “I’m aware and sympathetic that you may feel closer to the staff socially than to the masters of this castle.”
You, sympathetic?Very funny.
His expression hardens. “But you can’t come in and upset the way of things here. Too much familiarity between the masters and the help is fraught with nothing but trouble.”
“For the masters?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.
He shakes his head. “For the servants. The chambermaid you befriended may lose her job.”
What? No!“Please don’t fire Marianne!” I plead. “She’s done nothing wrong. It was me asking her to show me around. It was me insisting on seeing her room, the servants’ quarters, the kitchens, and the pantry… She was just being helpful.”
“I shall relay to the housekeeper that you wish to be shown around sooner than she’d planned.”
“Please promise me you won’t fire Marianne! She needs this job.”
Jacques nods, his expression softening a notch. “In a few days, when you become our duchess, you will have a lady’s maid. It will be proper for you to rely on her for any kind of assistance and information. Without fraternizing, of course.”
