He nodsonce. “That said, I would never approve of French egalitarianism and anti-monarchist sentiment.”
“I am not political.”
“They all say that at first.”
“Who’s they, Your Highness? Royal girlfriends?” I make an effort to keep it light, but Theodor’s hostility is beginning to wear me down. “You sound like you’ve been burned…”
Something flickers in his eyes, and I realize my gaffe.
Merde, merde, merde!What got into me to describe him as “burned”?Way to go, Lucie!
“I’m sorry,” I plead. “That came out all wrong. I wasn’t looking to offend you.”
His mouth pressing into a hard line, he brushes my apology off. “I’m not easily offended. With this face, I would spend my life weeping into my pillow if I were.” At that, he spins around stiffly and strides away.
A pleasant-looking young man asks me to dance with him, and it’s a huge relief. Growing up around period fans and costumes, it was only natural that Mom enrolled me in ballroom dance classes during my early teens. I practiced it until I finished school and quite enjoyed it, especially the Latin routines. But I can waltz all right.
Once on the dance floor, I finally spot Max, whirling past me with a beautiful creature. In his impeccable tux, he seems even taller and handsomer than before. The woman he’s dancing with glides across the intricate parquet, moving in effortless perfection. With her ballooning skirt hiding her feet, she looks as if she were floating on air.
My dance partner says something, drawing my attention away from the magnificent couple.
For the next dance, someone else leads me back into the spinning crowd, and another man two dances later. I look for Max every time. Sublime creatures succeed each otherin his arms. I can’t help wondering if he dated them or slept with them, or if he may consider doing so in the future. A part of me knows I’m being unfair because Max hasn’t done anything to give me a reason to feel jealous. He’s been a wonderful boyfriend for the two weeks I’ve spent in Mount Evor.
During the musicians’ break, I plant myself in a visible spot, hoping he’d come and exchange a few words with me. But he’s being held up by a lady that keeps talking while playfully swatting his hand with her fan.
I fidget with mine. For no reason, I remember how I explained the fan language of love to Max on our first trip to Lyon. He shoots me a look and a friendly smile, acknowledging he’s seen me. Without thinking, I lift the fan to my face and hold it vertically over my mouth, fingers slightly open.I love you.
Will he remember what this position symbolizes in the fan language? How will he respond?
His gaze drifts away from me to the woman he’s talking with.
Suddenly on the verge of crying, I rush out of the ballroom. I won’t have this beau monde—or Max for that matter—see me like this.
He catches up with me at the end of the hallway by the stairs. “Lucie, wait! Where are you going?”
I force a feeble smile. “To my room. I mean, to your apartments.”
“Are you all right? Something you ate?”
“No, no, I’m fine. Just tired.”
He glances in the direction of the ballroom. “I’m afraid I have to get back in there.”
“Go!” I say with feigned cheerfulness. “Actually, it’s time I went back, too, and got on with my life.”
“You mean back to Paris? To MINDFUCH?”
“Are you still on its staff?” I ask.
“Most Mount Evor royals are, in one capacity or another.”
“Then I’m not going back there,” I declare. “I’ll return to Lyon and work for my Mom until I find a new job.”
“Why would you quit MINDFUCH?”
“Because I have vowed to never date a boss of mine again. If you’re staying, then I’m quitting.”
“Sounds like you’re very keen on dating me if you’re prepared to sacrifice such a comfy job!” His mouth paints a mischievous grin. “I wonder why…”
