The Beautiful Ones

by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

  She did not truly think Hector would commit such an impudent act; he was too taken with the idea of being a gentleman. Valérie recalled how sweet he had been, his infinite devotion.

  But Luc need not know that. Luc needed fear, not reassurances.

  “Surely you jest—”

  “Mr. Auvray is not like you and me. He’s a performer, and theater is not exactly a temple of virtue, as I’m sure you have discovered in your dalliances with actresses and dancers. How did you ply those? Champagne and a few choice words of romance? Is that not enough for her?”

  “I am attempting to do right with Miss Beaulieu. As I said, she is a lady,” he stammered.

  Valérie felt almost like laughing at that comment. Why, a dissolute cad like this was developing fine morals? What was the world coming to? Did he not wish to win this game? Valérie did want to win, and she was going to ensure the pieces moved across the board as she’d planned.

  “Not for long, if you let her dangle from the arm of another man,” Valérie told him.

  She caught the spark of anger in his eyes. There it was, what she needed. Not fine, clean sentiments but hurt pride and common jealousy.

  “Do you truly want Antonina and her money?”

  “I want her for more than her money,” he replied, his voice vehement.

  Greed was good, but Valérie thought it was not greed speaking. It was his covetous heart, which now had focused on Antonina and aimed to consume her.

  Fine. Even better. Whatever would stir this young man’s blood and make him leap into the fray, no more cautious steps.

  Chapter 10

  HECTOR AND ÉTIENNE WERE SUPPING at the Crimson Fox again, only luckily they’d gone earlier and it was not so packed as the last time. All the tables outside, with their red parasols, were taken. Étienne and Hector had managed to wedge themselves near the door that led to the patio, but even the air blowing in was warm. It had rained the night before, briefly, and the temperature had not dropped.

  Étienne held a glass of water next to his forehead in an effort to cool himself. Hector was hungry, but their waiter had yet to drop by to take their order. They were short-staffed that day.

  “If I could carry a bucket with ice all day long, I would,” Étienne said.

  “I think I’ll spend the rest of my evening in the bathtub,” Hector replied.

  “That’s no fun.”

  “I can read even if I’m in the bathtub.”

  “I know you’d read, that’s exactly the problem.”

  Hector raised his head, spotting Luc Lémy, who’d stomped into the establishment. He had a determined look as he moved toward their table.

  “There comes your brother,” Hector said.

  “Really?” Étienne replied. “He didn’t say he was joining us.”

  Luc sat down next to Étienne and across from Hector. He immediately reached for his cigarette case, all eager fingers and a scowl on his face. Hector wondered what had brought on one of his moods. When Luc didn’t have money or couldn’t get his hands on a new toy, he sulked, although this time he appeared a bit worse than usual.

  “Hello to you,” Étienne said.

  “Hello,” Luc grumbled.

  Luc snapped his case shut.

  “We were—” Étienne began, but his brother shushed him.

  “You spirited Nina away from Haduier’s party the other night,” Luc said, his eyes fixed on Hector.

  Hector suddenly understood the cause and extent of Luc’s irritation.

  “Yes. She wanted to leave,” Hector said.

  “Do you realize the kind of talk that leads to? A gentleman and a lady, alone at night?” Luc asked. “You did not escort her to the party, you had no business taking her home.”

  “We are friends and well acquainted. We spent plenty of time alone at Oldhouse.”

  “It doesn’t matter and you know that.”

  “I did not withdraw my courtship request, thus if anyone dares to say anything, Nina can tell them Gaetan approves of me.”

  “That is nonsense. No one will ask her what is going on between you and her, they’ll whisper behind her back. It aggravates me.”

  “It aggravates you?” Hector said. If any man had a cause to be upset with him, it might have been Gaetan, since Nina was his cousin.

  Luc’s face changed from angry to petulant. He looked now not like a sulking child but a boy who has scarfed down a whole cake, but does not care if he will have a stomachache. It absolutely rankled Hector.

  “I have spoken with Gaetan Beaulieu, and he has agreed I may court Nina. I would like to marry her sooner rather than later.”

  “Has she been informed of this?” Hector replied, unable to suppress a chuckle. “I’m not sure she knows.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” Luc turned to Étienne. “He is making fun of me.”

  “I don’t think he’s making fun of anyone,” Étienne replied. “Luc, let’s get you a drink.”

  “I don’t want a drink. I want him to stay away from my bride.”

  As if to emphasize his point, Luc slammed his hand against the table; then he lit his cigarette and leaned back in his chair, challenging Hector with his gaze.

  “She’s not yours,” Hector replied.

  “Pardon me?” Luc said.

  “She’s not yours. She’s not mine. She’s nobody’s. Stop behaving like a brat.”

  Hector spoke sternly, and for a moment he thought Luc might regain the use of his senses and see how utterly peevish he was being, but instead the young man grew more stupid.

  “Now, listen to me, Hector. You had your chance. You didn’t take it. This is my time now, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to have you weaseling your way back into her life.”

  “What do you want?” Hector asked quietly. “Do you want a fight? Will that make you feel better? I’ve done you no wrong. She wished to go home, I took her in my carriage.”

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I will offer no apologies to you.”

  Luc tossed his cigarette at Hector. It was headed toward his lap, but Hector stopped it midair, his talent at work, then flicked it away, crushing it under the sole of his shoe.

  Luc did not seem happy with this display, having thought he could pelt him with the cigarette. “I want no apologies, but if I even think you’ve spoken to her again, I’ll break your jaw.”

  “Try it now,” Hector shot back.

  Luc rose from his seat, ready to put the threat into action. Hector was not one for fistfights, but he had not shied away from physical confrontation when it was necessary. The company he kept had not been the most gentle one in his youth. And though normally the thrill of a fight held little appeal, he was angry and he wanted to throw a few well-placed punches.

  Étienne reached out and grabbed his brother by the arm, speaking quickly. “Stop it, the both of you.”

  Luc shoved his brother away and straightened himself up. He did not bid either of them good-bye, instead preferring to glare at Hector before stomping off.

  For a moment Hector considered tossing the remains of the damn cigarette at the back of Luc’s head.

  “That was jolly,” Étienne said, drumming his fingers against the sides of his glass. “You didn’t tell me you were speaking with Nina again.”

  “Only recently. You didn’t tell me Luc was pursuing her,” he replied.

  “I had no idea. I thought he had a new fancy, but he didn’t say it was her.”

  A fancy. Yes, no doubt it was hard to keep track of the women who danced in and out of Luc Lémy’s life, but he did not think this “a fancy.” As far as Hector knew, Luc Lémy had not courted a lady. He’d flirted with a good number of them and even enticed a few into his bed. Étienne had told Hector that one time, Luc had gotten himself into a whole lot of trouble over Mie Karlson, a diplomat’s wife. But then, Luc collected women like other men collected coins or stamps, and ladies—much less marriage—were beyond his interest.

  “What now?” Étie
nne asked, frowning.

  “Do you think he is serious?” Hector asked.

  “About what, breaking your jaw?”

  “Her. Marriage.”

  “How am I supposed to know?” Étienne replied.

  “He seems serious to me,” Hector asserted.

  He recalled what Nina had said, that Luc flirted with her. Gaetan might not have spoken with her about the matter already, but surely he would soon. At this moment, he could be summoning his cousin to let her know that Luc Lémy was interested in her. How would the conversation end?

  He thought back to the party and how they’d looked together. They had been at ease, Luc acting his charming self and she interested in the performance. And at Oldhouse, he tried to remember what they’d been like. Nina had spent most of her time with Hector, but they all gathered for games and conversation. They got along well enough, he thought.

  They’d make a pretty pair, a study in contrasts, Luc with his blond good looks and Nina with her black hair.

  Antonina Lémy, he thought.

  It sounded awful.

  Étienne, attuned to Hector’s moods, picked up on that thread. He narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Hector, please tell me I’m wrong, please tell me you’re not—”

  “I’m heading home,” Hector said. “Suddenly the bathtub seems more appealing.”

  “Hector, don’t start with a new madness.”

  “Have a good evening, Étienne,” he said, his voice clipped.

  As he walked toward a busy avenue, hoping he might find a carriage to take him home, Hector considered paying Nina a visit. He quickly discarded the idea. What would he say? That he and Luc Lémy had almost come to blows over her? And exactly over what?

  Hector knew he and Nina were standing on ever-shifting sands. He was unsure where they were headed, too. It was strange because he was always sure of his actions, proceeding with the certainty of an arrow. It had been like that when he romanced Valérie, as he tried to fashion a career for himself, and in a myriad of business matters. The doubt that often clouded him when it came to Nina was odd, like listening to a tune and not knowing the steps of the dance.

  At this point, Hector felt he could say nothing. Nina was a young lady in her second Grand Season, and she would be expected to catch the attention of suitors. Luc Lémy was a man of superior breeding, ripe for marriage, and that he should have turned his eyes toward Nina could not be faulted.

  As Luc had pointed out, Hector threw away his chance. Hector’s pitiful gifts, the attempts at establishing new ties with Nina, colored only more vehemently that truth.

  He managed to attract the attention of a coachman and boarded the carriage.

  “Boniface, please,” he said.

  The carriage moved under the shade of the light green linden trees, trotting quietly.

  “Antonina Lémy,” he whispered, and the words left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

  Chapter 11

  NINA’S GREAT-AUNTS ALWAYS TOOK A long time to go out. That day, they had spent nearly an hour bickering with one another even though they were paying only one visit, and that was to Penelope Ferse, who lived three streets away. Penelope was a pigeon fancier, and both Lise and Linette, given their interest in birds, found this hobby an exciting topic of conversation.

  Once her great-aunts had left with many good-byes and a kiss on her cheek, Nina went to sit on the steps behind the house, reading by the canal. It was a hot day and the house felt stuffy even with all its windows open.

  “Miss, Mr. Lémy is here to see you,” Roslyn, her great-aunts’ maid, said.

  Nina’s hair was in a long braid down her back, her head protected by a straw hat, and she wore a thin muslin dress, rather informal, but then she had not thought she’d have company. She paused before the mirror outside the parlor to make sure her hair was not, as her sister put it, a wasp’s nest; then she grabbed the green wrapper the maid had brought down for her and greeted Luc.

  “Antonina. It is gracious of you to meet with me,” he said.

  “It is always good to see you,” she replied.

  She gestured to the maid, who was waiting for orders from Nina, and quietly asked her to bring a pitcher of lemonade. Luc and Nina sat down, he in an overstuffed chair and she on the sofa.

  “I have come with good news,” he said.

  “What kind?”

  “I have spoken to your cousin, and he has given me permission to court you. I imagine he will be sharing the news with you himself soon, but I asked him that I be allowed to speak to you first. I hope you are pleased.”

  Pleased? When Gaetan had told her Hector was interested in courting her, she could hardly contain herself, feeling as if she would burst into a million pieces. The news of Luc’s proposed courtship startled Nina somewhat, and she did feel her breath catch in her throat—despite the fact that she had imagined this day might come—yet she was not elated.

  “I am flattered,” Nina said.

  “I want you to know I think you are pretty.” He smiled, bright as sunshine.

  She looked down, toying with the fringe of her shawl.

  Luc rose and sat next to Nina, his hands falling over hers, holding them still. “It would not be objectionable if we kissed,” he said.

  “It would be too strange at this point,” she replied.

  He sighed but did not remove his hands from her own, shaking his head. “What is it that I am doing wrong?”

  “You are doing nothing wrong. You are a lovely young man.”

  “But?”

  Nina did not say anything. She did not know what to say. A year before, she might have been thrilled at this opportunity. He was like the prince from a fairy tale, the hero from a cheap novel—tattered pages and all—she’d read. She had learned about romance on the printed page but the realities of heartache had matured her; she could not look at him with the naive eyes of a child.

  “Do not tell me it is that ruffian, Hector Auvray, who has you like this!” Luc exclaimed.

  “No,” she replied. “It is not so.”

  Luc stood up and paced in front of her. “He makes my blood boil. I should have beat him bloody today.”

  “Today?”

  “He was with my brother at the Crimson Fox.”

  “You did not harm him, did you?” she asked, clutching the shawl.

  “No! I should have. It might have given me satisfaction. He’s a wretch from the gutters.”

  Nina sighed. “You should not be unkind. He is a friend of your family’s.”

  “My brother’s friend, not mine. And you speak to him! You left a party with him!”

  Someone had seen them. She recalled what Luc had said about old hens.

  “You speak to many ladies, Luc,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Oddly enough, Luc blushed a bit and he looked ashamed, suddenly running a hand down the lapel of his coat, as if he were cleaning away crumbs.

  “You must not be jealous. I talk to a lot of people,” he said.

  “I am not jealous. I am pointing out how silly it is for you to complain that I speak with one man when you speak to many women. Why is it men can do as they please?”

  “Come, now, I’ll speak to no other girls from now on.”

  “I didn’t say you should stop. I merely made a point that it seems unfair you should be jealous.”

  “I can’t help it.” He stepped forward and pulled her to her feet. “I want you to think of me and me alone,” he said. “When you wake up each morning and when you go to sleep, and as you lie in bed each night, I want you to think of me.”

  Now he’d pulled her closer to him, and she felt paper-thin. It was hot inside and growing warmer, and the maid, she had not returned with the pitcher of lemonade. Perhaps she thought she ought to leave them alone.

  “Luc, please,” she said.

  He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Please, what?” he asked, but then he did not allow her to reply.

  He leisurely kissed her, a hand sneaking
up to toy with a strand of her hair, the other at her waist. It was pleasant, the feel of his mouth and the elation she could now recognize as desire. She had demurred a few moments before, but she was young, infused with passion that often sought an escape and which at this moment had found him.

  When he paused in his ministrations, he looked proud of himself. He was eager and he was admirable at that sport, she could tell. It might have embarrassed her if Nina had not been more intrigued than offended. Curiosity was her fault.

  She initiated a kiss, attempting to imitate what he’d done, her hands in his hair this time. It was pleasant. The priest back home forbade such a thing, to be sure, but the church where they prayed was old. In the rafters lived beetles that bored into the wood, and Nina had spent more time trying to listen to their tapping sounds than to the priest. When the sun shone through the colored windows, painting martyrs upon the floor, all she could think about was the moment she might go outside and chase dragonflies by the river.

  Nina had never had much appreciation for talks of damnation and sins. She existed, and had always existed, in a rather untamed state, which was facilitated by her family, who confused her intellectual inclinations with a wholesome disposition. They saw her explosions, when they took place, as a child’s tantrums and could not imagine she was like the rivers and streams and forests she loved, riotous and luxuriant.

  “See? It will be a delightful courtship,” Luc told her. “You’ll want to marry me in a fortnight. Like the moon in the sky, I can already feel you magnetized by my orbit.”

  Nina chuckled at his high-flown words. How silly he was, but it was all right. She did not mind.

  “It’ll take more than a fortnight, and the moon cannot be magnetized. It is gravity that attracts a celestial object to another,” she said.

  “Place a wager? Let us kiss again.”

  “No,” she said, but she smiled at him.

  “To a wager or a kiss?”

  “To both.”

  “You’ll rethink those words soon enough.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. The maid came back at last and set the tray with the pitcher on a table. Nina poured the lemonade herself, willing the pitcher to rise and tilt with the movement of two fingers on her right hand. She did not spill a single drop.