The Oyster

Act I - The Wager of Marriage

Prologue

Sometime around 1770s.

La Cour estate, near Fontainebleau.

Henriette Louise Garnier de La Cour was twelve years old when she first decided Alexandre de Vauclair was the finest man in France.

The conclusion had been reached after considerable study.

He rode beautifully. He treated servants just as he would the noblemen. He knew when adults were being ridiculous but possessed the extraordinary discipline not to tell them. He had once brought Madame de La Cour a book from Paris simply because she had mentioned wanting it six months earlier.

Most importantly, he spoke to Henriette as though she were a person. This distinguished him from nearly every adult she knew.

The Vauclairs had come to dine with the La Cours that evening. Henriette had been ordered upstairs after dessert, an injustice she accepted with such theatrical suffering that her mother threatened to send her up before dessert as well.

She lasted perhaps twenty minutes until she crept downstairs.

Voices drifted from the drawing room. Her father was speaking unusually quietly with Monsieur de Vauclair.

"... until the harvest."

"And the note?"

"Another extension."

Henriette slowed.

She did not understand what note required extending, but she had lately discovered that many things in the house required waiting.

A new winter dress. Repairs to the west roof. Two footmen who had departed in spring and somehow never been replaced.

Her mother's Chinoiserie blue porcelain vase, however, required nothing. It stood magnificently upon a little table in the corridor, intricately painted with a blue dragon coiling around and had survived Henriette's entire childhood despite her repeated conviction that the table was badly positioned.

Henriette backed into it. There was a small scrape. A wobble. Then catastrophe. The vase struck the floor.

Henriette stared at the pieces. She cursed, a little too loudly.

Footsteps sounded from the drawing room. She fled to an alcove behind the long curtains beside the library door. Henriette slipped behind them and held her breath.

Someone entered the corridor.

Silence. Until-

"Henriette."

Her eyes closed. Of course it would be him. She peered through the curtain.

Alexandre stood before her, a slightly crooked smile on his face.

"How did you know?"

"The curtain has slippers."

Henriette looked down. Her slippers protruded beneath the hem. She pulled them in.

Alexandre waited. Eventually Henriette emerged.

"Was it valuable?"

"Do you want the comforting answer or the true one?"

"The comforting one."

"Then no."

She brightened.

"If I remember correctly this was your mother's favorite."

Her face fell.

"That isn't comforting."

Alexandre crouched and began gathering the larger pieces. Henriette joined him.

"Don't."

"I broke it."

"And you'll cut yourself."

"I am twelve, not porcelain."

"No. Porcelain is considerably more obedient."

She glared at him. "That makes no sense." Alexandre smiled. Henriette's bravado faded.

"Papa will be angry." She muttered almost to herself.

"Probably."

"You're terrible at comforting people."

"I've been told."

She looked toward the drawing room.

"They've been angry rather often lately."

Alexandre stopped gathering pieces.

"Papa says everything is perfectly well," she continued. "Which is how I know it isn't."

Alexandre piercing blue eyes cut look directly at her. She blushes, a tighten in her stomach.

"How?"

"He only says things are perfectly well when they very clearly aren't."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "That is an extremely dangerous observation."

"Why?"

"Because you're beginning to understand adults." He used his handkerchief to pick up the remaining pieces.

Henriette considered the idea before finally concluding, "I don't think I like them."

"Give us time."

"Will Papa be terribly angry about the vase?"

Alexandre looked at the broken porcelain again, and then at the smaller portions in his handkerchief. "He may be angry about many things tonight. That doesn't mean they're all your fault."

Henriette stared at him. It was such a peculiar thing to say that she remembered it.

From the drawing room came her mother's voice.

"Henriette?"

She froze.

Alexandre rose.

"Come."

"No."

"Henriette."

There was something different in his voice now. Not harsh. Firm.

She looked up at him.

"You broke something," he said. "You didn't murder anyone."

Henriette's eyes widened, he laughed at her reaction and glanced toward the other set of curtains. "I haven't checked behind the other one."

Henriette laughed despite herself.

Alexandre offered his hand. "Come tell your mother."

Henriette hesitated but relented, slipping her small hand into his. It was warm, some roughness but most of all, gentle.

Madame de La Cour was indeed upset about the vase.

Henriette survived. Although years later she would never forget the ass-whooping she received.

She would remember Alexandre's gentle hand.

Scene I

Six Years Later

Vauclair estate -- around Saint-Germain-en-Laye

At twelve, Henriette decided Alexandre de Vauclair was the finest man in France. By eighteen, she had found no compelling evidence to the contrary.

This was partly because Alexandre had spent much of the intervening years elsewhere. Absence had been very good for him. It allowed Henriette to improve his fantasy, princely image considerably.

The real Alexandre never interrupted her fantasies by saying something rude, smelling unpleasant, preferring another woman, or expressing an opinion about poetry she could not forgive. The Alexandre who lived in Henriette's imagination wrote beautiful letters, fought duels reluctantly but magnificently, remembered birthdays, adored books, and possessed an almost supernatural understanding of women.

The actual Alexandre de Vauclair was standing across his father's drawing room with a glass of wine in his hand.

Henriette forgot how to walk.

"Don't stare," her mother murmured.

"I'm not."

"You've stopped moving."

Henriette resumed moving.

The Vauclair house glittered with several hundred candles. Musicians played somewhere beyond the open doors. Silk whispered against silk. Everywhere Henriette looked there seemed to be another person wearing enough jewels to repair the west roof of her father's house.

Her own gown had been her mother's. No one could tell.

At least, that was what her mother had promised while Elodie altered the waist for the third time. Henriette chose to believe her.

Across the room Alexandre laughed at something a gentleman beside him had said.

Then he looked toward the entrance. His eyes passed over Madame de La Cour. They passed over Henriette.

Then returned, his brows furrowed.

Henriette felt something profoundly satisfying happen inside her. Alexandre stared. Not rudely. That would have been easier. He simply appeared unable, for several seconds, to understand what he was looking at.

Henriette lightened up.

His expression dropped. Recognition. Then astonishment.

Then an expression she had never seen on his face before. He excused himself from his conversation.

"Maman."

"I see him."

"What do I do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?!"

"For once in your life."

Henriette swallowed hard as Alexandre approached.

He greeted Madame de La Cour first. Henriette's heart swelled.

"Madame."

"Alexandre. Your mother tells me America has not killed you."

"Despite its best efforts."

Only then did he turn to Henriette.

There was a pause.

"Henriette."

The corners of her mouth twitched. "How disappointing."

His brow furrowed.

"You recognize me."

Alexandre laughed. "I believe I do."

"You don't sound certain."

"The last time I saw you, you were hiding inside a curtain."

"The curtain was implicated unfairly."

"In the destruction of your mother's vase?"

Henriette stared at him.

"You remember that?"

"Your shoes gave you away."

She laughing but Alexandre did not, his eyes were studying her intently. Almost in disbelief. She was beginning to feel heat rising from her neck, feeling him look at her in this way. Marie de La Cour looked between her daughter and Alexandre.

"You've changed," he finally concluded.

Henriette raised an eyebrow.

"I should hope so. Six years would otherwise seem terribly wasted." That finally broke whatever spell had taken hold of him.

"No, there you are." He loosened up.

"Where?"

"The girl behind the curtain."

Henriette tilted her head, eyes narrowing.

"She grew up."

Alexandre's eyes held hers. "So I see."

Her mother suddenly became very interested in someone across the room and excused herself from the couple before Henriette could protest.

Alexandre offered his arm. "Will you walk with me?"

She looked at it.

Six years ago he had offered her his hand because she was frightened of confessing to a broken vase.

Now he was offering his arm. Henriette placed her hand upon it. "I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"I don't wish you to become vain."

"Too late."

"How unfortunate."

"For whom?"

"I haven't decided."

Alexandre laughed.

And just like that, the imaginary Alexandre she had carried with her for six years began the dangerous business of becoming real.

Scene II

Alexandre courted her for the next hour or so. She discovers the real Alexandre is actually capable of competing with Fantasy Alexandre.

By the time Alexandre suggested the gardens, Henriette had danced with him three times.

Her mother had noticed. His mother had certainly noticed and half the room had certainly noticed. Henriette decided that a fourth dance would therefore be considerably more scandalous than disappearing into the dark with him.

"Where are you taking me?"

"You've been here before."

"When I was twelve."

"You were thirteen."

Henriette halted in her tracks.

"I was twelve."

Alexandre continued walking.

"Thirteen."

"I think I should remember my own age."

"You fell into that pond."

She was taken back, a memory she had not thought of until that moment. "I did not."

"You did."

"I would remember falling into a pond."

"You screamed so loudly my mother thought someone had been murdered."

Henriette composed herself, pretending to preoccupied herself by straightening out her skirts.

"I slipped."

"Into the pond."

"I was pushed."

"By whom?"

"A swan."

Alexandre bursted out into laughter. "Now you're inventing things."

"They're vicious creatures."

"They're birds."

"They can be both." She shrugged.

The path opened before them.

The garden pond beyond the trees, surrounding my sloping hills for added intimacy. The pond, a silver mirror reflecting a bewitching crescent moon. Water lilies decorated the surface and two swans drifted through the water, creating ripples that broke through the stillness.

It was certainly a sight to see, Henriette took in the scenery. She lost herself in it, but Alexandre was lost in her beauty instead. Allowing his eyes to fall over the loose curls behind her neck. Lips now he used to remember pouting too often, now painted rose red to a face that belonged to a woman.

Finally feeling his stare, she finally broke the silence, "I remember it being larger."

"You were smaller."

She arched an eyebrow, "You were nicer."

"That I don't believe."

He led her to the water.

Music from the house had become distant enough that Henriette could only occasionally distinguish the violins. She realized suddenly how far they had wandered. "Should we be out here?"

"No." They continued walking, quietly until Alexandre said, "You never answered me."

"About?"

"Rousseau."

Henriette groaned. "You brought me into the wilderness to continue an argument?"

"I thought you'd appreciate the setting."

"You haven't read it properly."

"I have."

"You cannot possibly have read it properly and arrived at that opinion."

"An alarming philosophy."

"Reading?"

"Yours. Apparently a book has only been properly understood when the reader agrees with Henriette de La Cour."

"Precisely."

"I shall remember."

"You should."

They reached the edge of the pond. Henriette watched one of the swans tuck its head beneath its wing.

"You read much more than you used to."

"How would you know?"

"You used to carry books everywhere."

"I still do."

"You used to carry them upside down."

Henriette turned.

"I was twelve."

"Thirteen."

She struck his arm lightly, now Alexandre felt warm but he tried shaking it off by lightly chuckling.

"Why do you remember these things?" Her eyes narrowed at him, the question came out differently than she intended.

He studied her face. "What things?"

"Me."

His expression softened. "You were difficult to forget."

"That's a diplomatic answer."

"Would you prefer an honest one?"

She turned and looked at him skeptically "I always prefer the honest one."

"You were an exceptionally strange child."

This was not the answer she expected.

"And an exceptionally clever one." He continued. "I remember you asking my father why women couldn't inherit his business."

"He never answered me." Henriette remembered.

"He complained about you for an entire carriage ride home."

Henriette's painted lips curved upward. "Did he?"

"You were delighted with yourself then too."

"I take pride knowing I've been consistent."

Henriette expected Alexandre to laugh, but he was giving her that serious look again. She tried not to purse her lips so much now out of nerves.

"You have changed."

There it was again. "You keep saying that."

"I'm trying to understand how."

"Six years, presumably."

"No."

"You were always clever. You were always funny."

"Alexandre de Vauclair, was that nearly a compliment?" She tried to lighten the moment.

"Don't interrupt." He said, almost in a trance, not taking his eyes off her now as if he was searching for the best way to put it.

"You used to say whatever entered your head."

"I still do."

"No. You catch yourself now. You decide whether you're permitted to say it first."

Her mood dropped slightly but enough for him to notice. She slowly turned away from him, looking at the water before quietly saying, "That is called becoming a lady."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"What?"

"Being one."

She held her tongue for several moments, trying to process his question without laughing. "What an extraordinary question."

"You haven't answered it."

She thought about it more seriously now. "I enjoy parts."

"Which parts?"

"The fashion."

"Naturally."

"Books. Music. Good parties. Being looked at when I've made an effort to be worth looking at."

"And the parts you don't enjoy?"

Henriette considered this. "Being told where I cannot go."

Alexandre stood still, absorbing the answer. Not realizing, he was staring at her again, almost fascinated.

"You're doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"Looking at me as though I've said something peculiar."

"You want to go somewhere?"

Henriette laughed softly. "Everywhere."

"Where?"

She looked out at the vastness, imagining the world beyond the pond, this town. "I don't know."

"That's convenient."

"I've never been anywhere. How am I supposed to know where I want to go?"

"Paris?"

"Obviously."

"Italy?"

"Yes."

"England?"

"If absolutely necessary."

"America?"

"Maman says you've been."

"Twice."

They had been walking around the pond but she stopped.

"What's it like?"

"Large."

"That's your description?"

"Very large."

"If you read books, you should have a better vocabulary."

"What would you like me to tell you?"

"Everything."

So he did. Not everything, of course, but enough.

He told her about harbors crowded with ships, streets that smelled of horses and smoke, forests that seemed to continue forever. He described people who spoke to strangers as though they'd known them for years and merchants who cared considerably less about his surname than his father thought reasonable.

Henriette listened greedily. When he finished, she was lost in all the images he painted for her.

"I envy you."

"Why?"

"You can simply leave."

Alexandre frowned. "So can you."

Henriette looked at him as though he'd suggested she fly. "No, I can't." She scoffed.

"Why not?"

She tilted her head at this, surprised he didn't already know the answer. "Because women do not simply leave." A little more calloused than intended.

"Some do."

"What happens to them?"

Alexandre considered this.

"Usually something interesting."

Henriette turned away laughing at the idea. "I think I should like something interesting to happen to me."

Alexandre's smile faded. "You should be careful saying things like that." He said quietly. It was surprisingly, a little foreboding.

"Why?"

"Interesting things are rarely pleasant while they're happening."

"That's a terribly depressing philosophy."

"It's experience."

"And here I thought you adventurous."

"I am."

"Then why shouldn't I be?" Henriette straightened her spine.

He had no immediate answer, she smiled triumphantly at this.

"There. I've defeated you."

"Temporarily."

They walked farther around the pond. "May I ask you something?"

"You've asked me approximately fifty things."

"One more." Alexandre lightly pleaded, playing.

"Very well."

"Why haven't you married?"

Henriette's heel gave out, the world for a moment falling from beneath her. Alexandre caught her elbow. She bolted upright, trying to recover from her fluster.

"Was that intentional?"

"The question?"

"The hole."

He looked down. "I'll have it removed tomorrow."

Henriette laughed nervously. Then she realized he was still waiting. She cleared her throat. "I haven't wanted to."

"No one?"

"No."

"Never?"

Henriette looked at him. There was something almost boyish beneath his composure now. She suddenly understood.

He wanted to know. The realization gave her courage.

"Perhaps I've been waiting."

"For what?"

She smiled. "A prince, naturally."

Alexandre groaned. "Those books have ruined you."

"Entirely."

"And what qualities does this prince possess?"

Henriette pretended to consider. "He is handsome."

"Reasonable."

"Educated."

"Demanding."

"Kind."

Alexandre's amusement softened. "Kind?"

"Very."

"What else?"

"He remembers things."

A bolt of emotion between them. Henriette immediately regretted the answer. Alexandre didn't rescue her from it.

"And does this extraordinary man exist?"

She felt her heartbeat rising. "Once."

"Once?"

"When I was twelve."

Alexandre doesn't move. Henriette realized what she'd said. "Oh, don't look so pleased with yourself."

"I haven't done anything."

"Your face has."

"What happened to him?"

"He became unbearable."

"A tragedy."

"Utterly." She shakes her head, folding her arms and ignoring his gaze now.

"Perhaps you've romanticized him."

"I certainly have."

"Then the real man is at a disadvantage."

She broke her stony stature.

"Yes."

Alexandre stepped slightly closer. "How is he doing?"

Henriette could hear the water moving against the bank.

She was tempted to joke, instead she found herself confessing, "Better than expected."

Alexandre feigned surprise. "High praise."

"Don't become complacent."

"I wouldn't dare."

Another step. Henriette didn't move. Alexandre's voice became quieter.

"And if the real man wished to improve his standing?"

"He would have considerable work ahead of him."

"What sort?"

Henriette's emerald eyes fell to his lips, then immediately back at his eyes.

"I haven't decided." She found herself saying, losing herself a little.

"Then I'm at your mercy." He declared.

"You don't appear particularly frightened."

"I am terrified."

Henriette laughed softly. "No, you're not."

"No." His intensity sent a shiver through her. The music from the house seemed impossibly far away now. Alexandre reached toward her, then stopped before touching her. It was such a small hesitation that she almost missed it.

"Henriette."

Her heart began beating harder.

"Yes?"

"Tell me to take you back to the party."

She knew what he was offering her. Not quite a question. Not quite permission. An escape.

Henriette looked toward the party, the source of the soft music that played through the night air. Then back at Alexandre.

"No."

His eyes searched hers. "No?"

Henriette shook her head. "I haven't finished deciding whether you've disappointed me."

A smile appeared slowly on his face. "And?"

She stepped closer.

"The evening is young." They're undeniably magnets now, unable to control their gaze at one another. He slowly takes her chin, raising her face to his slightly brushing her lower lip. She shuttered a sigh, closing her eyes at the touch momentarily before meeting his eyes again. Alexandre leaned in, tasting her for the first time.

Slow at first, exploring each other, finding rhythm and before long they were kissing in a frenzy. Heavy panting, hands exploring curves, tugging at clothing. She felt his warm body melting over hers on the grass, as they lay on the grassy slope of the hill.

Her hips grinded against his, feverishly caught in his touch. She could see in his expression, it felt immensely good for him too. She reached for his erection over his trousers to find a solid form. She was surprised, but again she was never sure what to expect. She kept stroking, in a little bit of wonderment, watching him groan and buckle beneath her. She couldn't help but smile, he began furiously kissing her.

She breathed heavily as his hands worked under her skirts, sneaking his finger through the fabric the best he could finding she was already drenched and easy to find. She gasped with elation at his first touch, he stroked her clit so slowly, she began to pant loudly. "Oh my God," she breathed in his ear, licking it slightly. His thick brown curls falling over her eyes, his fingers playing with her wetness, gradually using more momentum based on her gasps. She was breathing so hard, she thought her breasts would come exposed. Alexander kissed them, pulling her neckline with his other hand. "Oh God." Henriette's head fell back, her pleasure coming to a crescendo, she found herself grabbing his curls. "Alexander," she warned before crying in elation. Fearing they would be heard, Alexander quickly covered her mouth with his and she moaned in his mouth.

They both take a moment to catch their breath before bursting out into laughter. As their laughter died, they suddenly realized they heard voices. Someone was coming down the garden path. Henriette began to put herself back together again, pulling up her neckline, trying her best to fix her hair but Alexandre didn't wait, he took by the hand. "This way."

Scene III

He drew her from the path toward a small stone alcove half-hidden behind an overgrown trellis. Henriette followed, gathering her skirts to keep them from dragging through the damp grass.

"Alexandre--"

"Quiet."

"I am being quiet."

"You're whispering."

"So are you."

They slipped behind the trellis just as two figures appeared around the bend.

Henriette recognized one immediately. Boisterous Madame Beaumont. Of course. It had to be Madame Beaumont. She had never encountered a secret she didn't consider a public responsibility.

Henriette pressed herself farther into the alcove. Alexandre stood beside her. Very closely beside her. There wasn't room not to.

Madame Beaumont's companion was saying something about Paris. Henriette couldn't hear it over her own heartbeat. Then Madame Beaumont stopped. "I could have sworn I saw someone."

Alexandre's hand closed around Henriette's. She caught his eyes as he put one finger to his lips.

She rolled her eyes. I know. She mouthed, still too loudly though.

His mouth twitched. Henriette's eyes widened in sudden terror. Don't you dare laugh.

That made it worse. Alexandre looked away.

Madame Beaumont remained somewhere beyond the trellis. Henriette could see the pale shape of her gown through the leaves. "If it's young Vauclair," the woman said, "I imagine he's found somewhere quieter to entertain Mademoiselle de La Cour."

The color from Henriette's face drained.

The companion laughed.

"They've danced together all evening."

"Three times."

"You counted?"

"Everyone counted."

Henriette's jaw dropped a little, not sure how to properly react and be still at the same time. Alexandre noticed this, but hesitated on how to reassure her.

Madame Beaumont continued down the path.

"Pretty girl. Though her mother ought to be more careful."

The voices began to fade.

They stood still for a moment. "Are we safe?"

He listened for a few seconds before confirming, "Yes."

Henriette exhaled loudly, which quickly evolved into a fit of laughter. Alexandre turned to her, "What?"

"Your face." She said between breaths. "You looked terrified."

"I wasn't terrified."

"You were."

"I was concerned."

"About Madame Beaumont?"

"Yes."

Henriette laughed harder. "I've seen you argue with your father without blinking."

"My father doesn't attend six dinners a week specifically to destroy young women's reputations."

Henriette covered her mouth, trying to shut down her own cackling. Alexandre stood firm, he was looking toward the path.

"They're already talking about you."

She stopped laughing now. "You invited me out here."

"I know."

"And I accepted."

"I know."

Henriette studied him and frowned. "You're regretting it."

"No." The answer came immediately.

That pleased her more than it should have.

Alexandre looked at her.

"But I should have thought."

"About what?"

"What happens if someone finds us. Let alone what we did earlier."

Henriette shrugged. "We're talking. Nothing else."

"Alone."

"Yes."

"At night."

"Yes."

"After I've danced with you three times."

Henriette arched an eyebrow. "You counted too."

"Henriette."

There it was again. She stopped teasing.

Alexandre stepped out from behind the trellis and checked the path. Empty. He turned back but he was quiet now.

"I came willingly." She assured him.

"That wouldn't matter."

"It matters to me." Alexandre looked at her.

"I know."

There was something different in his voice now.

Henriette stepped out beside him.

"So this is where you become honorable and return me to my mother?"

"I was attempting to be honorable before."

"Were you?"

"Heroically." He offered his arm. "Come. Let's face the music."

Henriette looked at it. "Is that an order?"

"More like a desperate plea for self-preservation." He looked as if searching for any other surprise guests to wander through.

"Yours or mine?"

Alexandre's expression softened. "Yours." That took some of the mischief out of the moment. Henriette placed her hand on his arm.

As they drew closer to the party, he instructed her in a hush voice. "You should enter first, I will follow a few moments after."

By the time Henriette returned to the ballroom, she had convinced herself that nothing had happened. This was technically true. It was also becoming one of her more useful definitions.

Scene IV

She entered through the eastern doors and immediately found her mother. Marie was staring at her daughter suspiciously, then noticed Hennriette's hair. Henriette touched it instinctively.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Maman."

Marie reached up and removed a small leaf, showing it to her daughter.

"Botany," Henriette reasoned.

"Apparently." Marie slowly nodded, processing.

"I was in the garden."

"I gathered."

"With Alexandre."

"I gathered that too."

Henriette shifted, changing the topic. "Where is he?"

Marie closed her fingers around the leaf. "Henriette."

"What?" She pulled her best efforts to act innocent, especially to one of her worst acting critics standing before her, her mother's arms folded.

Before Marie could answer, Alexandre entered through the same doors. Henriette's heart dropped, just the way it did when she tipped over her mother's vase. She shut her eyes. Marie looked from Alexandre to her daughter. "You couldn't have used another door?"

Henriette whispered, "I did." Eyes still closed, rubbing her temple.

Across the room, Guillaume de Montreuil stood by the fireplace. Although the light of the fire lit him partially, he was still somehow enveloped in darkness. Perhaps it was his dark coat, matched with raven black hair and skin kissed one too many times by the sun. He had a strong jaw and a scar that ran along his left cheek. He had been conversing business to a elderly man when he noticed Alexandre's entrance. His friend's bright blue eyes searching around the room, straighten out his coat and sleeves. Guillaume saw what his friend was looking for.

Henriette, speaking in hush tones to her mother, Marie who was still holding a leaf. His eyebrows rose. Henriette felt his gaze, immediately meeting his eyes. Guillaume lifted his glass to her.

Alexandre was intercepted almost immediately by his father.

Henriette couldn't hear what was said, but Monsieur de Vauclair looked displeased. Alexandre said something. His father looked more displeased. Henriette began to feel both embarrassed and sick to her stomach at once. A sense there was going to be an impending crisis about to burst.

Guillaume wandered toward Henriette and her mother, with the unmistakable air of a man who had discovered free entertainment. He swept past Henriette, close enough for his coat slightly brushing against her skirts. Before Henriette could see who it was, he had again blended back in with the other guests.

"Mademoiselle de La Cour!"

Henriette stopped.

Marie murmured, "Oh, dear."

Madame Beaumont approached.

Henriette feigned a weak smile.

"Madame."

"There you are."

"Yes."

"We wondered where you'd disappeared to."

Henriette felt Marie become very still beside her.

"I was only--"

"With Monsieur de Vauclair, wasn't it?" Madame Beaumont asked innocently. Henriette thought her to be an even worse actress than her.

Several nearby conversations quieted. Not stopped. Quieted. Henriette's eyes swept across the room. This also caught Alexandre's attention.

Madame Beaumont smiled pleasantly. "I thought I saw the two of you in the gardens."

Henriette's mouth went dry. "We were walking."

"At this hour?"

Before Henriette could snap, It's a party! Marie stepped in. "The gardens are quite lovely by moonlight."

"Of course." Madame Beaumont's smile didn't change. "And young people so rarely notice the cold."

Henriette understood now. This wasn't a question. It was an announcement: I saw enough.

Alexandre crossed the room. "Madame Beaumont." That charming Fantasy Alexandre was manifesting again now.

"Monsieur de Vauclair."

"You've found Henriette."

The use of her Christian name did not help. Madame Beaumont noticed. So did Marie and Guillaume.

Monsieur de Vauclair arrived behind his son. Augustine appeared shortly afterward, having sensed either scandal or refreshments. "What is this commotion?" Augustine asked. He found his daughter in the center of it and immediately sobering up, standing near his daughter in protection.

"Nothing," Henriette assured shakily.

"An evening walk," Madame Beaumont answered.

"Botany," Marie interjected. Henriette scowled her mother with a look but Marie kept a perfectly straight face.

Alexandre kept himself from smiling. His father did not.

"Alexandre," Monsieur de Vauclair's tone quietly warning.

Madame Beaumont looked delighted with herself. Happy as a pig in mud, Henriette thought.

"I merely remarked that the two young people seem to have become very well acquainted this evening."

Augustine laughed. "Well! They're hardly strangers."

"No," Madame Beaumont said. "Certainly not."

That did it. Henriette felt heat rise into her face. Alexandre felt it and his expression changed. He had understood the answer before she had. Now he could see it happening, no, he couldn't stop it from happening. Alexandre confidently stepped beside Henriette. "Madame Beaumont is correct."

Henriette was unsure what this was leading to.

His father said sharply: "Alexandre."

But Alexandre was focused on Henriette. "We have become very well acquainted."

Madame Beaumont's smile faltered slightly.

Augustine looked interested. Marie looked suddenly suspicious. Guillaume lowered his glass mid-sip.

Alexandre continued. "In fact, I had hoped to speak with Monsieur and Madame de La Cour privately before saying anything."

Henriette's heart stopped. Before saying... What?

Monsieur de Vauclair understood first though. "No." He didn't even bother to censor himself now.

It was quiet but unmistakable. Alexandre glanced at his father, confidently now and back at Henriette.

Augustine looked between them. Marie whispered: "Oh, Alexandre."

Henriette had absolutely no idea what was happening. "Alex?" She felt as though she were standing in the path of an impending storm, winds blowing hard enough to sweep her away.

His eyes returned to hers, something in his expression made the room fall far away.

Alexandre took Henriette's hand. This time, when he spoke, there was no performance in him. "Henriette Louise Garnier de La Cour. I have known you for most of your life."

Guillaume's expression changed slightly at that. Monsieur de Vauclair looked as though he might expire.

"I intended to do this properly."

His father muttered something under his breath but Alexandre ignored him, carrying on. "I intended to speak to your parents and mine. But I'm beginning to suspect that if I wait until everyone in this room considers the circumstances appropriate, we'll both be dead." He laughed slightly at his own joke. "I don't want tonight to become something people whisper about tomorrow." He said quietly to her now. "Marry me."

"Yes." She breathed. The crowd erupted into a polite cheer and clap, snapping Henriette back to the room filled with guests.

Augustine embraced whoever was nearest. Unfortunately, it was Monsieur de Vauclair. Monsieur de Vauclair looked as though he had been informed of a military invasion

Marie pulled Henriette into her arms.

Alexandre disappeared beneath congratulations from the guests.

And through the confusion, Henriette caught sight of Guillaume, he was looking directly at her. She was surprised when their eyes met that he didn't turn away but kept staring. Finally, Guillaume lifted his glass, an obvious toast.

Before she could respond back, her mother seized her hands.

"My darling."

"Maman--" Henriette quickly glanced back at the stranger who just toasted her across the room. He was still staring unapologetically.

"I knew it." Her mother fussed, drawing her back in.

"You did not." Henriette said, embarrassed. Feeling like a little girl again.

"I suspected it."

"You told me not to stare at him."

"Precisely. Excellent advice." She patted her daughter.

Her father appeared beside them. Henriette had not seen Augustine look so happy in months. That pleased her almost as much as the engagement itself. He kissed her forehead. "My beautiful girl."

Across the room, Monsieur de Vauclair had taken his son aside. "Tonight?" he was saying quietly.

Alexandre smiled, a little drunkly. "Why not tonight?"

"Because you have known the woman for six hours."

"I've known Henriette since she was girl."

"You knew a child."

"I know her now." Alexandre turn away from his father, drinking from his glass.

"You know nothing now."

Alexandre's smile disappeared.

Monsieur de Vauclair lowered his voice further. "And I would advise you to understand precisely what you are marrying before you congratulate yourself upon having discovered it."

Henriette couldn't hear the rest. A tall shadow appeared in front of her. "How extraordinary." It was the stranger who toasted her from across the room, now regarding Henriette with an expression suggesting he had arrived midway through a play and already guessed the ending.

"Are you speaking to me?" She asked curtly.

"I had hoped so."

"Then you might begin by introducing yourself." She straightened her skirts, looking away coldly.

The stranger laughed slightly at this. "Guillaume de Montreuil." He bowed, taking her hand.

"Henriette Garnier de La Cour."

"So I've heard. Your name has traveled remarkably far this evening."

Henriette glanced around the room, noticing some guests glances at her. "Apparently it has."

Guillaume kissed her hand. "May I offer my congratulations?"

"You may."

"My congratulations."

She waited.

"That's all?"

"What else were you expecting?"

"You don't look particularly congratulatory."

That interested him. "Do I not?"

"No."

He stepped closer to her, this surprised her a bit. "Then tell me what I look like?"

"Like a cat with a finch in its mouth."

Guillaume didn't laugh, but he smiled. She'll take it, Henriette thought. "Alexandre neglected to mention that you were observant."

"You know Alexandre?"

"Unfortunately."

From behind Guillaume came Alex's voice. "Montreuil."

Guillaume turned. Alexandre approached and clasped his shoulder with considerably more affection than Henriette expected.

"You came."

"I was promised champagne."

"You were invited for my company."

"I was misled."

Alexandre laughed. Henriette noticed an ease between the men that suggested years of insults disguised as affection. Alexandre put a hand at Henriette's back. "You've met my wife."

"Not yet," Guillaume said.

Henriette felt Alexandre's hand tighten slightly. "My future wife."

"Ah." Guillaume nodded. He caught a glimmer of Augustine, who was speaking animatedly with another gentleman. His gaze swept over to Monsieur de Vauclair, who sulked in the corner, drink in hand, mind lost in whirling thoughts. He turned his attention to the happy couple. "A remarkable evening."

Alexandre winced. "What does that mean?"

"Only that when I arrived, you were unmarried."

"I remain unmarried, clearly."

"For the moment." He said, almost directly at Henriette this time.

She laughed, Alexandre looked at her. "Don't encourage him."

"I enjoy weddings." Guillaume said, changing topics as if he was already done with the previous conversation.

"There isn't a wedding." Henriette's eyes narrowed, now on high alert to pick out his insults.

"There will be."

"You sound very certain."

"Everyone here does."

"Everyone except Monsieur de Vauclair." Henriette responded a little too sharply.

Alexandre groaned. "Henriette."

Guillaume's mouth twitched. "He does rather... Perhaps he's calculating."

Alexandre's expression sharpened. "Calculating what?" He said almost through grit teeth.

Guillaume took a sip of champagne. "The number of guests, naturally."

"There are no guests yet."

"Then he has an excellent head start."

Alexandre gave him a warning look. Henriette knew perfectly well that wasn't what he had meant.

Before she could press him, her father appeared.

"Monsieur de Montreuil."

"Augustine."

They shook hands. Henriette saw something change in Guillaume's expression. Not contempt. Recognition.

Her father was almost effusive.

"You must come tomorrow. Alexandre's father and I will have arrangements to discuss. There will be contracts, naturally, and the matter of the estates--"

"Papa," Henriette said, laughing. "I've been engaged for ten minutes."

"Precisely why there is no time to waste."

Augustine squeezed her shoulder. "My girl has made an excellent match."

Guillaume's eyes flicked toward Henriette, swifting to Alexandre, then catching a glance at Monsieur de Vauclair.

"Yes," he said. A tiny pause. "She certainly has."

Augustine did not hear it, but Alexandre did. Henriette wasn't sure.

Her father was summoned elsewhere and disappeared again. Guillaume watched him go. Alexandre stepped closer.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't."

"I haven't said anything."

"That's generally when you're most offensive."

Henriette laughed. Guillaume turned to her. "Your future husband thinks very poorly of me."

"No," Henriette said. "I think he knows you very well."

For the first time that evening, Guillaume was taken off guard and allowed himself to laugh at that. His mask has slipped for a moment. "Perhaps this marriage will be interesting after all."

Alexandre put his arm around Henriette's waist. "It won't."

"No?"

"No." He looked down at her. "It will be utterly and disgustingly happy."

Henriette beamed. Guillaume lifted his glass once more. "Then I shall pray for a speedy recovery." He said before returning to the party.

Alexandre and Henriette laughed, but neither of them noticed that Guillaume wasn't laughing.