“Where’s the kindling? You can’t expect to start a fire without kindling, not with those huge logs.”
“I …” I squinted at the girl. She was in her early to mid-twenties, with copper skin and shoulder-length hair. I knew I’d seen her around the château assisting Lady Morano, but I wasn’t sure we’d ever formally been introduced.
“Am hopeless?” she helped, grinning.
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Hmmm,” the girl paced, tapping her lower lip. “Clueless, maybe? Or perhaps ineffective? Wait! I have it—incompetent. Yes, that’s most certainly it.”
“I amnotincompetent,” I protested, rising to my feet and the bait. “I’m just …”
She leered at me and I sighed, gesturing to the fireplace. “Alright. If you know so much, why don’t you show me how it’s done?”
“And get my dress filthy with soot?” She sent me a mock-horrified expression before winking and leaving me staring after her, incredulous. Had that really happened? Had she just insulted me and left me to fail?
I turned back to the fireplace and sighed, regarding my flint with disdain. “You’re not even trying,” I accused it. The flint gleamed, as if mocking me in response.
As I dropped down to one knee before the infernal hole in the wall once more, a boy strode in and stopped behind me. I glanced up and he nodded politely. “Annette said I was to assist in starting a fire?”
Annette. That was her name. At least she hadn’t completely abandoned me. I supposed I should be grateful, even if shehadbeen poking fun at me.
“Your help would be most welcome,” I told him, watching carefully as he got to work, so I would never find myself in such a pitiful situation again.
Incompetent.The nerve of the girl. If she’d known who she was really addressing, she would have begged for forgiveness. But as it was, I supposed I couldn’t blame her. I must have looked pretty pathetic crouching down into the fireplace begging for sparks to catch.
I still wasn’t sure if I should thank Annette for her intervention the next time I saw her, or outright ignore her. I had some time to decide.
Once the fire was lit, Grimes and another boy set up tea on a side table before I was roped into helping serve the family and their guests. Thankfully, I wasn’t required to do much more than stand at the table, observing as Grimes himself saw to Montoni and a brooding fellow named Count Magnus, who was a friend from a neighboring town. The two women in his company were equally dour, making me wonder how he could sustain a friendship with such joyless people. I certainly would have made my excuses to distance myself from their society. Upon further reflection, the scowling Montoni would likely fit in with them just fine. Just what sort of secrets could he be hiding behind that brooding visage? And how advantageous would it be for me to find them out? And how could I possibly ferret out what his niece and nephew had only hinted at in the hedge maze?
My eyes found a taxidermy owl, legs outstretched, talons grasping for a rabbit on the run, length stretched out to mimic an all-out sprint from death. The owl’s eyes were focused intently on its prey, its beak open as if letting out a battle cry. I found myself nodding. It really was a work of art. The expressions of the animals, the positions of their bodies … it was incredibly masterful. I blinked, realizing that the tableaux were growing on me. That was worrisome. As was the fact that I somehow found the dead and stuffed animals more interesting than the count and his guests. But as I watched an insipid interaction between Count Magnus and Montoni, I decided it was the truth.
When the siblings finally arrived, a good twenty minutes had gone by. They likely wished to limit their time with the dowdy guests, and I couldn’t blame them for their tardiness. Blanche wore a canary yellow dress trimmed with fine lace that was gorgeous when paired with a stylish white bonnet. Pastel flowers crowded the crown. Henri was dressed to impress in a double-breasted tailcoat in a striking velvety green. I caught myself staring and turned away, cursing his roguish good looks. But I couldn’t ignore him in an outfit that emphasized his broad shoulders and slender waist, conjuring up images of his naked backside. I tried to distract myself by straightening the teacups set out as Blanche approached the table.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Dupont,” she greeted with a flirtatious smile. “I hear we have you to thank for the roaring fire. I believe you’ve saved us from a chill in this drafty old room.” She met my eyes and quirked an eyebrow in amusement. Clearly, Annette had informed her of my blunderings. They’d probably had a good laugh over it.
“No trouble at all, my lady,” I said with an easy smile, unwilling to show her that she could get under my skin. I poured a cup of tea for her with a sure hand and offered her a tray of sugar cubes, of which she took three. She had a sweet tooth, then.
“Should we go through to the parlor?” Montoni asked, getting to his feet and indicating the adjoining door to his guests. “Perhaps Lady Morano will grace us with a song on the pianoforte.”
“I’ll join you in a moment,” Blanche promised. “I’ll wait for Henri to get his cup.”
Montoni nodded but was clearly distracted by his guests, speaking in low tones as they made for the other room. I watched him go, pondering how Blanche and Henri had spoken of his anger. He was an unpleasant fellow, certainly, but I didn’t see any hint of rage in his actions. He came across as arrogant and snobbish but also in control and possessed of good manners, at least toward his own class.
“Ugh.” Blanche scowled as soon as the door had closed on Montoni, “They’re worse than the de Villefortes. Why can’t he have any amusing acquaintances? And now I’m apparently to be the entertainment for the evening.”
I blinked, studying Blanche more closely. I’d been thinking the same thing. Perhaps, under different circumstances, we could have been friends.
“Oh?” Henri smirked, sidling up to her. “You know it’s only going to be worse at supper. Uncle will likely plop you down right between Magnus and one of his dullard daughters. You won’t be able to escape them.”
“Unless you talk of how filthy you are again,” Blanche brightened. “That was brilliant. The de Villefortes couldn’t leave fast enough.”
Henri chuckled and gave her a mock bow. “It was my pleasure.”
I watched them with amusement, and as Henri was about to rise, he lifted his eyes and met mine. He had such beautiful green eyes, standing out like emeralds made even more brilliant by that coat. I looked away, straightening, a flush climbing my cheeks.
Blanche sipped at her tea and strode over to the fireplace, gaze lifting to regard the portrait of a woman with striking features and a mysterious smile. Her eyes were the same blazing green as Henri’s, but her hair was wild and golden like Blanche’s. The woman had to be a relation.
“Our mother,” Henri said softly as he followed my stare, and my thoughts. “There never was a more fearsome, charming woman who walked this earth.”
