Another pert retort barreled from Celine’s lips. “Yes, mademoiselle. That would be wise.”
The center of the girl’s eyes sparkled as though she could hear Celine’s thoughts. “You’re absolutely delightful. Like Bastien in a dress.” She laughed to herself. “That snide fiend.”
Lines of confusion gathered across Celine’s forehead. Was the young woman insulting her or complimenting her?
“En tout cas . . .” the girl continued, her free hand waving through the air as if to disperse smoke. “Would it be possible for you to meet me later this evening?”
Celine thought quickly. The day after they’d arrived in port, the Mother Superior had cautioned them about venturing alone into the city at night, especially during carnival season. She’d spoken as though they were all foolish little lambs, and the Vieux Carré nothing but a hunting ground for wolves. Not to mention the fact that a violent death had occurred recently along the nearby pier.
Given all these facts, it was unlikely the Mother Superior would permit Celine to go.
With this realization came a surprising rush of disappointment. Though Celine did not feel comfortable in the presence of this rambling, oddly attired girl, she nevertheless felt . . . intrigued. Even a tad bit reckless.
When the girl sensed Celine’s reluctance, her lips puckered with displeasure. “Of course I will pay you handsomely.”
Celine didn’t doubt it. The ivory cameo alone was worth a fortune. But it was not about the money. It was about the rightness. She owed herself this second chance. And angering the Mother Superior seemed unwise.
“I’m sorry, mademoiselle.” Celine shook her head. “I just don’t think it would be possible. The Mother Superior would not permit it.”
“I see.” A long sigh passed the girl’s lips. “Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all.”
“Pardon?” Celine’s eyes went wide. “Are you quoting . . . Shakespeare?”
And Hamlet, at that.
“The one and only.” The girl grinned. “But, alas, I must be on my way. Is there no chance you might change your mind? You have but to name your price.”
A flicker of amusement passed through Celine. Hours ago, from a place of insolence, she’d suggested it might be better to earn money beneath the light of the moon. Here was an offer to do so. One without limit.
In that moment—listening to this strange girl quote Shakespeare and tantalize her with possibility—Celine realized she wanted to go. Badly. It was the first time in recent memory she’d felt this particular spark of anticipation ignite within her. She wanted to create something and be a part of the world instead of merely observing it. Already she’d begun envisioning ways to fashion the wide-hooped, baroque-style panniers. To construct a manteau with dripping pagoda sleeves. Her hesitation now was a last effort to hold firm to her convictions.
To obey. Be a model of humility. Earn a measure of God’s forgiveness.
“If money does not entice you”—the girl leaned closer, and Celine caught a whiff of neroli oil and rosewater—“I can promise you an adventure . . . a trek through a den of lions.”
That. That was it.
It was as though the girl had found a window into the darkest corner of Celine’s heart.
“It would be my pleasure to design a dress for you, mademoiselle,” Celine said. As soon as the words left her mouth, her pulse was set apace.
“I’m thrilled.” Beaming, the girl withdrew an ecru card with gold calligraphy in its center. The script read
Jacques’
Beneath it was an address in the heart of the Vieux Carré, not too far from the convent.
“Come here this evening, around eight o’clock,” she continued. “Disregard the queue outside. When a beautiful man with a voice like sin and a ring through his right ear demands to know what you are doing, tell him to bring you to Odette, tout de suite.” She reached for Celine’s hand. Through the lace of her glove, her touch felt cool. Calming. The girl’s eyes widened for an instant, her grasp tentative at first. She canted her head, a half smile curving up her doll-like face. “It’s lovely to meet you, Celine,” she said warmly.
“It was lovely to meet you as well . . . Odette.”
With another simpering grin, the girl named Odette sashayed away, the train of her bustle gliding in her wake. The next instant, Anabel turned toward Celine. “I ken I’m the last to go on about making mistakes, Celine, but I’m not sure what came over ye when ye agreed to meet this Odette creature tonight. Are ye touched? Ye canna leave the convent after dinner. The Mother Superior expressly forbade it. She said the happenings in the Quarter after sunset—”
“Promote the kind of licentious behavior that will not be tolerated beneath her roof,” Celine finished in a weary voice. “I know. I was there.”
“There’s no need to be testy.” Anabel blew back a tight red curl from her face. “I’m only worried what’ll happen if you’re caught.”
“I thought you were tired of all the humdrum,” Pippa teased.
Celine smiled, grateful to her friend for disarming the tension. “Ready to meet a sturdy young gentleman.”
“In my mind, he doesn’t even have to be young,” Pippa continued.
“Or a gentleman,” Celine finished.
“Och, you’re terrible!” Color flooding her face, Anabel made the sign of the cross. “Enough to make me take to church.”
Celine feigned ignorance, a black brow arching into her forehead. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t be the wee hen that never laid away. Not with me, Mademoiselle Rousseau.” Her eyes shifted to Celine’s chest. “And certainly not with that bosom.”
“What?” Celine blinked.
“Don’t play the innocent,” Pippa translated with laughter.
“What does that have to do with my . . . bosom?”
Pippa bit her lip. “It was said in jest, dear. You must know you have a lovely figure.” She patted Celine’s hand like she would a child’s. The motion grated on Celine’s nerves. “Don’t take it to heart. Gifts were bestowed on you.”
Gifts?
They thought her figure was a gift? The ridiculousness of it almost caused Celine to burst into laughter herself. There’d been a time when she’d appreciated her body for its beauty and resilience. But that time had passed. What she wouldn’t give to be lithe and lean like Anabel. The “gifts” these girls chortled about now had brought Celine nothing but trouble.