Page 32 of Dagger’s Shield

“There’s nothing to speak of.”

When my mother touched my hand and shook her head, I let it go.

“Am I to give a speech?” Rémy asked Dagger.

“As long as it runs shorter than the tour,” he joked.

“Impossible. There is a lifetime of material.”

Dagger turned to me. “We’d best marry very early in the morning.”

Rémy raised his glass to that, and I grinned at the pair of them.

Across the table, Maman hadn’t stopped smiling since I’d told her we’d chosen to marry in May in the garden. The thought turned my stomach. It was a lie told on top of a mountain of them. How many more would it take to keep her smiling?

When Marthe came in with one of the girls from the kitchen to clear the table before the next service, her eyes met mine, then she looked in Dagger’s direction and raised a brow.

I wanted to leave the table, follow her out of the room, and demand she tell me what she was thinking. If I were still a ten-year-old child, I would have. Given I was a grown woman, I remained in my chair, turning over every possibility.

Was she on to us? Had she figured out that we weren’t really a couple? That we weren’t engaged? If she had, what was she thinking instead? “Je suis vraiment une idiote,” I said again, realizing only after I’d mumbled the words that Dagger had heard me.

When I glanced over at him, he half smiled, reached under the table, and squeezed my leg.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” he whispered when I froze.

I grinned at him. “Other leg.”

He squeezed again, but rather than let go, he left his hand where it was. It was all I could do not to cover it with mine and lean into him. If I had, no doubt he would’ve done the same and kissed my forehead. Like any engaged couple would.

Except we weren’t and this was all pretend. I was exactly what I’d called myself, an idiot. Every sweet gesture was an act. I’d do well to remind myself of that often.

I brushed his hand away.

The lamp was low when I came out of the bathroom, and the pillow was already down the middle of the bed. That he’d put the barrier in place answered the question I hadn’t asked and never would. Nothing would happen between us tonight.

“You’ve spared me the trouble,” I said, getting in on my side.

“Thought I’d save you the reach.”

“How thoughtful.”

“I’m a thoughtful man. You’d know⁠—”

“—if I gave you half a chance. You’ve mentioned it.”

He chuckled and switched off the lamp. For several minutes, the only sound was the hoo-hooo of a tawny owl.

“How long do you think it will take for your father to finish the wedding guest list?” Dagger asked.

“By dawn, there will be names we cannot possibly leave off. By Friday, it will be half of Burgundy.”

“Only half?”

“He feuds with the remaining fifty percent.”

“And what will you say?”

“I’ll remind him that a wedding requires a bride, and brides can be difficult when their wishes are not respected.”