Severin, the local bar owner who’s catering the drinks tonight, uncorks another bottle of Henri’s finest wine made from the fruits of his clandestine vineyard. He pours it into crystal glasses and passes them around along with cocktails of his own making to keep the spirits high. The food caterers are local, too, and they work seamlessly with Severin, making sure their dishes are a perfect complement to his beverages.
The air is rich with the scents of liquors, sophisticated perfumes, and hearty fare. A live band from Bergerac with a flair for crowd-pleasing music plays one popular song after another.
As I mingle with the guests, Jocelyn cracks some joke, and the room erupts in laughter. Yann chimes in with a witty retort. Not far the biggest group, Mother and her bestie Marie-Louise are sharing stories of my childhood antics with Henri’s parents, who listen with mesmerized smiles.
Henri’s been giving them a wide berth all evening, clearly nowhere near ready to forgive them yet. It’s probably the only cloud in my sky tonight. Actually, no, there’s another one. Returning to Henri’s château for the first time since my quest for the key reminded me of the unique and, unfortunately, missed opportunity to end Kurt.
Never had I wished death on anyone. But Kurt changed that. His villainy against my country aside, he’s the monster who orchestrated my father’s protracted, cruel assassination. He’s also the scumbag who nearly killed my brother Theo—twice, if one counts the royal palace fire eight years ago. As if that wasn’t enough, Kurt is responsible for Henri’s beating and torture, not to mention that he was going to have me tortured and probably killed.
Sophie’s voice pulls me from my dark thoughts. Aided by Celeste, she corners Henri and me, eyes brimming with curiosity.
“So, why the rush?” she asks, a suspicious glint in her eye.
My pregnancy isn’t showing yet, so I wonder what she’s up to.
“Yes, I want to know, too,” Celeste chimes in. “What’s the deal with the fast-track engagement and marriage plans?”
Henri and I trade a look, but don’t respond.
“High nobility is scandalized that our princess is marrying her boyfriend of two months,” Celeste presses on before dropping her voice to a murmur. “I’ve heard some wild gossip that I don’t dare to repeat.”
I lower my voice, too. “You can repeat it, hon, I don’t mind. This is my circle of trust.”
“A rumor’s going around,” Celeste whispers, leaning closer to me, “that the truffle-dealing de Bellay knocked you up.”
The culprit grins. “Please remind those gossip aunts I’m a boyfriend of two months plus fourteen months ten years ago.”
Celeste promises she will.
Sophie nods. “It does add depth to the relationship.”
“Doesn’t it?” I step in closer, drawing them in. “And, by the way, the rumor is true.”
Their jaws drop in astonishment. After a moment of stunned silence while the news sinks in, they envelop Henri and me in a flurry of excited hugs and heartfelt congratulations.
“How far along are you?” Celeste asks me.
“Where did it happen?” Sophie jumps in.
“Almost eight weeks,” I say. “It happened during the bloggers’ retreat here at this estate.”
If I wanted to, I could be even more specific. Henri and I conceived in the tree house he’d built for my thirtieth birthday. I know it, because we used a condom when we had sex again that night, and the night after. And then we didn’t make love for a month while Henri was recovering. So, by the process of elimination, that rainy morning in the tree house was really the only time Henri could’ve “knocked me up.”
“But please,” I implore my friends, “keep it secret for now. We’ll make an official announcement when I’m four months along.”
They assure Henri and me that our secret is safe with them.
“We’ll handle the rumors,” Celeste adds.
As the evening progresses, the band strikes up the dance hit of the season. Its infectious rhythm spreads through the room like wildfire. Even the stodgiest guests are soon tapping their feet, unable to resist.
I watch, amused, as Mother takes to the dance floor with a youthful energy that belies her age. She’s a whirlwind of grace and laughter, dancing first with Theo, then Max, and finally Henri. She seems happy. I hope she’s over Nicolas who she left for reasons that had nothing to do with her feelings for him, much like I had to with Henri ten years ago.
My brothers and Henri try to match Mother step for step, but she’s in a league of her own, reminding everyone that some dance moves don’t age. Once you have them, you have them.
Henri’s mother Agathe pulls me into the dance ring, and soon I’m twirling with Henri’s parents and his brother Antoine.
But soon Yann becomes the center of everybody’s attention.
