They were quiet. Her talent, which had been perceptible a few moments before, simmered and died.
“Please send no more gifts, Mr. Auvray. Send nothing more,” she said. She was trying to keep emotion out of her voice and could not manage it, but when she walked out, she did it with composure. She’d broken the colored glass windows in Oldhouse, might have broken the world in half in that moment, but she’d learned to rein herself in.
He’d taught her card tricks, but he hadn’t taught her that.
He went to the window and looked down, scanning the street below, until he saw her marching out into the street. She turned a corner and she was gone.
The sun, as if mocking him, had shrouded itself behind a cloud.
It was he, then, who sent papers and writing instruments scattering across the table with a flicker of his eyes, happy to hear the noise of them landing against the floor and filling the silence she’d left behind.
CHAPTER 6
She wished Gaétan would go away and let her be, but he kept buzzing around her, stubborn. He never sensed anything about her, too obtuse to notice her moods.
“But, darling, you cannot possibly stay home,” Gaétan said. “It’s the Haduier party.”
“Why not?” Valérie replied. “Make an excuse for me.”
He was standing behind her, and she could see his sour face in the mirror. Agnes Haduier was a gossipy, wrinkled wretch. Lucian Haduier was a boor, the kind of fellow who in his cups would loudly bellow the most indecent words. Besides, the Grand Season was brimming with parties. They had already been to the De Villiers’ and the Gannels’, which were the more important balls of the early season.
Valérie adjusted the sash around her waist and stretched out a hand, running her fingers along the bottles filled with oils and perfumes, settling upon a jar containing a new face cream she’d purchased at Ambre. It smelled like almonds; it would be delicious against her skin.
If she’d been alone, she could have enjoyed trying it on. But he was standing there, eyeing her without truly seeing her.
Gaétan didn’t see anything.
“Go by yourself.”
“I cannot go without my wife. And after I bought you that new dress! And the brooch! Twenty perfect seed pearls. You were supposed to wear my brooch tonight.”
“I’ll wear it another time.”
“When a man goes through a monumental expense for a party, he does not expect this response,” Gaétan said.
He had not heard her or did not care. It was all about him. His wife who would not wear his dress and his brooch.
“Besides, Nina will be there. We haven’t seen her in a long time,” he added.
As if that would induce Valérie to go. She watched as Gaétan took off his jacket, muttering to himself. Was he really going to stay in? She hated him when he acted like this.
“With this migraine, I can’t do anything but go to bed. Head off on your own,” she said, hoping the prospect might induce him to simply leave her be.
“No, it’s fine. I am tired and could use the rest. I’ll miss seeing her, though.”
She really did have a migraine, and this development was not going to improve it. Valérie decided to make the best of it since he had offered her an opportune opening.
“Take Antonina to dinner sometime,” she replied, making a vague motion with her hand. “Speaking of Antonina, did you meet with Luc Lémy?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“He is a pleasant man.”
“Pleasant enough. I don’t think he knows how to do anything but have fun and drink.”
“He’s young. Besides, he told you about his business idea, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” Gaétan nodded as he undid his necktie. “It’s not a bad one, and I think he said he has a fellow interested in providing a portion of the financing, Longder might be the name. Though more backers are needed.”
“Then what is the trouble?”
Valérie turned around, fixing her husband with her gaze. He sighed and shrugged and did not answer, which made Valérie frown.
“Well?” she repeated.
“He seems boyish.”
“As if Antonina is the pinnacle of maturity. He is what, twenty-four? About time he settled down and married, and since Nina ruined her first Grand Season by focusing her sights foolishly on a single man, who knows how she might fare this spring? It is one thing to be the new face at all the balls and another to be returning without an escort, milling around the edges.”
“Valérie, don’t be harsh.”
“I am being honest. She followed none of my advice, did not pursue any of the young men I introduced her to.”
Valérie had tried. She’d honestly tried to pour some sense into the empty-headed girl, but Antonina could not remember names and faces, would not make an effort. Antonina did as she pleased, pampered child with a roll of banknotes under her arm that she was.
It must be amusing to forgo duty and submit yourself only to silly pleasures, Valérie thought with quiet contempt.
“Luc Lémy is a godsend. Unless you were thinking to marry her to a Delafois back in Montipouret,” she told her husband.
“Which one? They are already engaged or married. Cedric is widowed, but nearly fifty,” Gaétan said.
Valérie knew this, and that was precisely why she had suggested it, guessing her husband would start panicking at the thought of his cousin remaining a spinster. Antonina was young enough that she could surely find herself a groom and take a bit of time doing so, but Valérie needed to create a sense of both urgency and opportunity.
“Luc Lémy is proposing an interesting business venture that would be sealed with a magnificent marriage. I do not understand what you have to lose.”
“I was hoping she’d be married to a man she liked. That she might find the same amicable union we’ve found. I realize not every marriage is a love—”
“Do you think she dislikes Luc Lémy?” Valérie asked, interrupting him, for she had little interest in hearing him declaim the wonders of their union.
“She has told me nothing of him.”
“Maybe she is shy.”
“She could hardly contain herself with Hector Auvray, speaking about every single visit they had together as soon as I walked in through the door.”
“Maybe she’s learned to be more decorous,” Valérie said, her voice rising.
“They seemed well matched. I wonder what happened,” Gaétan said.
Valérie stood up and opened her wardrobe’s door, pretending she was looking for an item in there while taking a quiet breath.
“What happened is he was obviously of a different category than your cousin and did not mean to take her seriously. We should thank the stars we have not been saddled with a changeable man.”
“You may be right,” Gaétan conceded.
Valérie slid hangers to the side, her hands drifting across silks, lace, brocade.
“He did not even have the decency to speak to you and retire his courtship proposal,” Valérie added.
If he had shown up at her doorstep, Valérie wouldn’t have allowed him in. Yet, it rankled her a bit that he had not attempted to see her one more time. Did he think about her? He must. She had been in his mind for a decade.