Affaire de Coeur

by Stephanie O’Hanlon

  My mouth gaped open, taking offense to such a comment, though I quickly closed my mouth and cleared my throat. “Colette, really—”

  “No, no.” She looked at me and pointed. “I think it is ridiculous that such a thing is kept secret. If you ask me, it just…it is not right.”

  Lucien’s beautiful face scrunched in confusion, though he suppressed a laugh. “Is not right?”

  Colette stuttered, pointed and nodded. “Well, yes. I just…it isn’t right. How do we know she isn’t married already, or a nun, or something of the sort. Perhaps that is the real reason you wish to keep her identity secret—some sort of social or physical deformity.”

  I spat out the sip of coffee I had taken, coughing, “Colette!”

  “You think it wrong that I wish to keep my private life private?” Lucien asked, standing from his seat. “What if I inquired about yours, Mademoiselle?”

  Colette shook her head. “You can ask me anything. My life is an open book.”

  “All right,” he said, crossing his arms before him. “What of you and the Vicomte?”

  My eyes widened as I jumped up, trying to scramble my way over to them. “Please, I—”

  “What of it?” Colette raised her chin, putting her hand out to stop me.

  “Well, are the rumors true, Mademoiselle? What of you and Monsieur Galland? What of the Chevalier Vachel Gautier?”

  My whole body froze. I held my breath as my face contorted in utter pain. “Oh, Lord.”

  Colette’s entire face went scarlet. Her nose flared in anger as her breathing seemed stilted. “That is none of your business!”

  “And mine is none of yours, Mademoiselle,” Lucien countered, crossing his arms. “Nor is it the business of Paris. The only persons whose business it is would be the woman who holds my affection and myself. That is it. The rules do not change depending on the person. They are the same for us all.”

  Colette glared at him in contempt. She turned and gave me a heated glance before she stalked off into the salon.

  I put my hand to my forehead, covering my right eye slightly. I felt a throbbing in my head. “Oh, God…” I walked over to the chair Lucien had sat in, sitting in it myself and putting my head down in my arms on the table.

  Lucien cleared his throat after a few moments, his voice filling the air. “What are you doing down there?”

  I peeked up at him from my arm, turned my head back into the darkness, and closed my eyes. “This was supposed to be a good day.”

  He sat down beside me, his hand coming up and stroking my back and shoulder, carefully avoiding the pleats from the sacque back. “Do you wish me to apologize to her?”

  “No,” I sat up, my back straight and my shoulders pushed back as my hands fell to my lap. “She owes you the apology, actually. She should not have questioned you like a police inspector.”

  He leaned toward me, his arm resting on my arm of the chair as he looked into my eyes. “What if I let her win at croquet?”

  I smiled, my shoulders slumping forward. “That seems like a good compromise.”

  I stood in the sunshine with a hat pinned to my head and pink, silk mitts covering my arms. I held my mallet as I watched Colette walk past Lucien as if he wasn’t there.

  Lucien’s eyes came to me, his lips pursing in amusement as Colette took her shot. The ball shot off, knocking Lucien’s off. It was far enough that it would take him at least two strokes to get back to where he started. Colette seemed pleased, only letting a little smile pull at the corner of her mouth before she turned and walked past Lucien once again, her shoulder almost knocking into him.

  Armand leaned down to me, his voice lowering. “Am I missing something?”

  “You do not want to know.” I shook my head as I put my hand to my forehead, brushing my fingers against my skin, which was a little hot. I looked up toward the sun. It was high up in the somewhat cloudy sky, making the heat rise carefully and slowly as it blazed on. I almost prayed that it would rain and douse the heat before it could possibly rise too high and stop this stupid game in its tracks.

  I turned toward the little table and chairs they had set out, letting my mallet rest against the table as I sat down.

  Armand turned back to me, one dark eyebrow raising above his piercing blue eyes. “Are you not playing anymore, Madeleine?”

  I shook my head, my nose scrunching up. “I am bored of it. I would rather watch than play. I think I am terrible at it, anyway. You all always beat me.”

  “Oh, Maddy.” Colette shook her head. “Do not be such a poor sport!”

  I smiled as I stayed firm in my seat. Lucien turned and winked at me before he took his turn.

  Armand walked over to me, sitting beside me at the table. Colette turned to him. “Oh. Not you, too! Maddy, you are setting a horrid example! I am winning!” She stomped her foot.

  Armand smiled. “I am losing, as is the Comte right now. As Madeleine said, I would rather watch. This game is quite interesting.”

  Colette almost seemed satisfied with that remark, almost taking it as a challenge. She turned back and took her turn.

  Armand turned to me, his voice lowering once again. “He is letting her win, isn’t he?”

  I turned to him, trying to think of a way to assure him that Lucien wasn’t, but of course he was! I sighed as I looked toward them. Colette’s demeanor was just as cold as it was from their little tiff earlier. “Is it obvious?”

  “To me it is.” He laughed, looking toward them. “Would you like to tell me what she said to him?”

  I looked to him, at his cream suit, the way it made his hair look darker than it was, and the contrast of such dark hair making his eyes look sparkling clear. “It was about Lucien’s lady.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “Yes, I have heard such things as well. Do you know who she is?”

  I fought a smile as I shook my head. “No, we are all stumped on the matter.”

  “Well, she has to be extraordinary. Not only to be so far under everyone’s eye, but to make him so stupidly happy.”

  He pointed toward Lucien, who did indeed seem to be content, even with Colette acting so cold toward him. He still smiled at her and made comments on her skills—good, positive comments.

  “I never…I never noticed any shift in his demeanor,” I stuttered, almost looking deeper at Lucien. Did I not notice it, because he was always around me? “How do you mean?”

  Armand looked toward me, resting his arm on the rest of the chair. “Well, for the longest time, he refused to dilly dally in such social occasions. As I understand it, he has been active in the social scene. If you know Lucien de Laurent as I do, that is no easy task for him.”

  “Do you know why he was so scarce for so many years?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No. No one but Lucien knows that. I can see why, though. When one has people throwing themselves at them, it can be stressful. How does one know when a person is really a friend or just some…social climber?”

  “You say ‘one’, but I have a feeling that you know of the same circumstances from personal experience.” I looked down at my hands. My pale, porcelain fingers stuck out from the fingerless, silk mitts that cut off at my knuckles. The pink looked almost dark compared to my own skin, and the trim of it a lovely blue.

  He looked to me, his countenance going still. His eyes fixed on me. “Perhaps, but Lucien is the topic at hand. Not me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I started. “I did not mean to overstep my bounds—”

  “It is quite all right,” he interrupted. “I know you aren’t the type of person to pry, Madeleine. So, I understand you are just being perceptive. You are one of the few people I know who is genuine in that fact. It is probably why he loves you so much.”

  My whole body froze, fear flying through me. “I’m sorry?”

  He looked at me, his clear eyes twinkling. “Rose told me.”

  “Well, that seems to have been a mistake on my part.” I swallowed hard, my stomach turning.


  “How do you think she was able to send letters to him? It was through me. Same with Lucien’s letters getting to you. I receive them through my valet and courier. Not his.” He smiled.

  My mouth fell open in shock. “How long has this been going on?”

  He laughed. “Hmmm, since his grandmother’s birthday party? He asked me to detain Colette, so he could speak to you. I have been sending his letters to you along with my own to Colette. I am the one who sneaked him into that party Friday evening. He arrived with me in my coach.”

  I looked over to Lucien, who stood by patiently as Colette carefully planned out her next shot.

  “Don’t worry. I have no intention of telling anyone. Your secret is safe with me.” Armand’s voice beckoned me to look back at him.

  “Why?” I said meekly.

  “Because you make him happy, and he is my friend. Would you not do the same thing for Colette?” he asked, pointing to her.

  I looked at her as she smiled, winning the game and clapping her hands together as she laughed.

  “I would,” I agreed, “but isn’t it too much trouble?”

  “I actually find it rather fun.” His eyebrows raised mischievously.

  Colette and Lucien ran over. Lucien’s plan for smoothing things over between them seemed to work. Colette was laughing and smiling in great relish over her win.

  “I demand a rematch, tomorrow.” Lucien smiled, playing along with her glee.

  Armand stood. “Well, I think we should work on that sonata. I am sure the Comte will keep Madeleine company. Won’t you?”

  Lucien smirked, nodding. “I will try my best.”

  Colette seemed unhappy with the thought of the chore of actually tending to her lessons, but she nodded. “Come and save me, Maddy, if you hear me scream.”

  I smiled and nodded as they made their way arm-in-arm across the grounds toward the house. I stood up. Lucien came to me and went to put his arms around me as I slapped his shoulder.

  “When were you going to tell me Armand knew?”

  He looked at me, surprised. Though, my little slap could not have hurt that much as he was smiling to me. “I did not think it was important. I assume he told you of his assistance in our situation.”

  I nodded. “Much to my surprise.”

  “Well, you don’t think I could do all this without help, do you?” he asked, putting his arm out for me.

  I frowned, nodding as I took his arm. “I see your point. So, only Rose and Armand know. Am I correct?”

  He nodded. “Yes, they are the only ones and are readily available to help us whenever we need it. In fact, I have been borrowing one of Armand’s horses when I make my way here, which I understand was a gift from the Marquis. So, most of the stable hands think it of no interest when it is there.”

  We began walking toward the hedge maze to our right, passing by a group of workers standing by the fountain. They were all speaking about something.

  “Well,” I began, looking over the laborers as they chatted, “I suppose that works nicely for us.”

  “I must admit,” he said, stopping for a moment as he looked them over, “I am surprised the Marquise is still going through with this.”

  “It is to be completed by the end of July, on schedule,” a voice said, coming from behind us.

  We turned and Cleante stood there with a few rolls of parchment in his hands. He looked just as he always did, save for one thing—his mustache was gone! A beautifully sculpted face sat underneath that dark shadow formerly present. He now looked youthful and actually appealing. Though, not as appealing as Lucien. I was taken aback, clearing my throat as Lucien looked back toward the group of men.

  “Ah, well. I do not believe we have met.” Lucien stepped forward, looking Cleante over carefully.

  “Oh!” I stepped forward, both men looking at me. “Ummm, Monsieur le Comte Lucien de Laurent, this is Monsieur Cleante Prouix, the architect the Marquis has employed.”

  “Ah.” Lucien smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard of your work among the whispers. It is well regarded. They say you will be quite the name in a short time.”

  Cleante seemed unsure of Lucien’s comments, but he tried to smile. Nodding, he replied, “Thank you, my lord. I appreciate such praise.”

  “The project is going to be completed on time, then?” I asked, taking hold of the conversation.

  He nodded to me. “Yes, Mademoiselle. It should be ready for guests at the fête.”

  I turned to Lucien. “Oh, yes. I told you of Colette’s plans for my birthday celebrations.”

  “I think Armand mentioned it. Colette wanted to invite some of the gentlemen who frequent Rose’s gambling parties. They are friends of his.”

  Lucien looked back to Cleante, watching him. My eyes went to Cleante, who was staring at me.

  “Well, we should let you get back to your work.” I nodded and smiled to Cleante as I pulled Lucien with me toward the hedge maze. When we were out of sight, I stopped and turned to him. “You shooting daggers at him is a little obvious, is it not?”

  He seemed genuinely shocked. “Me? I was doing no such thing.”

  My brow raised as I looked to him.

  “All right. I was…I was observing not shooting daggers. He was staring! I thought it inappropriate,” he said, crossing his arms.

  “Is that jealousy or dominance?” I asked, folding my hands before me.

  “Perhaps both?” he asked, smirking. He pulled me into him. “I suppose you bring the animal out in me.”

  I laughed, covering my face and turning away from him. His arms grabbed me around my waist as his face rested against my own.

  Chapter Twenty

  My eyes fluttered open as I shifted uncomfortably amongst the linens and coverlet of my bed. The heat in the room made my legs kick to get free from the material that was nearly suffocating me. I turned as Brielle turned the crank on the window. The light rain outside wafted a cool breeze inside for only a moment. The humidity in the room was just as bad as outside, choking the breeze before another could possibly get through.

  “Seems your day will be rained in, Mademoiselle,” she said, curtseying to me.

  I sat back, slamming my head into the pillows. There goes that plan.

  Lucien had planned to come back for another game of croquet and stay for dinner. It seemed the weather was against us.

  I readied for the day, just like any other. I wore a pink silk pet-en-l’air over a yellow petticoat. I turned and grabbed my favorite fan, which had been set out for me on my vanity. I had scarcely used it since noticing its small flaw forever ago. I made my way down to the salon where I sat, fanning myself in the stifling heat.

  The rain beat against the closed doors of the salon. A small amount of illumination came from the sky, even though the thick black and gray clouds took it over.

  A low rumble of thunder crawled through the house. The chandelier above me jingled and a light flash from lightning followed afterward. I sat back, exhaling sharply as I fanned myself faster. I tried to breathe in some cooler air in the stuffy room.

  I looked to the table, and my eyes fell to little, square-shaped cakes with a crust all around them and a white layer of butter cream on top. Just the smell of them was tempting me—the fresh smell of cinnamon and sugar frosting in the air, mingling with the heat.

  I pursed my lips together. The lace from my open fan rested against my lips as I looked the cakes over. I only needed that one thought of how delicious they must taste to tempt me enough to reach forward and take one of them. I bit into it. The crust around it was crisp and heavy, sweet with the cinnamon and sugar. The butter cream topping lingered with it only slightly. My second bite was of the soft light center, which was not as heavy with the taste of the sugar, but the cinnamon was perfect. It made the very texture perfect, especially when it squished together with the light butter cream.

  “I knew you would appreciate those.” Colette walked into the room, wearing a green pet-en-l’ai
r with a yellow petticoat. One of her silk and lace fans was in her hand as she sauntered over to the table and sat down beside me.

  I put the little cake down, swallowing what was in my mouth. “You know how much I love anything sweet.”

  “I cannot stand it,” she said, slumping back in her seat.

  She always said she didn’t like sweets, but she often ate little bonbons that were overloaded with sugar or had hard, crunchy centers. She was never usually one for chocolate, but she did eat pastries. She would frequently say she didn’t like them, often a moment or two later grabbing one off a plate and eating it, saying how amazing it was.

  I sat silently, nodding as I looked to the door. “I suppose the weather will delay the Marquise’s plans with her garden extension.”

  “Cleante is supposed to be stopping by to go over more of their plans. Maman has changed something, again.” She rolled her eyes as she fanned herself, turning her head to the side. “It is absolutely, dreadfully hot. What happened to the tame weather we had?”

  “I thought you liked the summertime?” I pulled the little cake up, taking another bite out of it.

  “I do, but not this hot! Do not get me started on the winter, either.” She closed her fan and pointed it at me, waving it about.

  “You do not like the sledge rides?” An image of the snowy, night-filled sledge rides that I had taken with my father flashed in my mind. I remembered how cold the crisp air was and the snow lightly falling as our feet were heated from the coals of the little heaters below our furs.

  “Well, yes. They can be nice…with Vachel.” Her voice went low as she looked down to her fan. The handle shimmered as a low, soft rumble of thunder filled the room. “I hate winter,” she pouted.

  “Whatever happened to that invitation to have coffee with him?” I asked, my fingers tapping around the little plate my cake was on.

  She shrugged. “I decided against it. I do not want to see him. Why do you think we haven’t been to town? He is back, though I have no idea for how long. Étienne is hazy on the details.”

  “Is Armand going to come by, today? Or is the weather just too much?”