“Perhaps we might have met someplace else,” I said.
He shook his head. “I doubt it. You never leave your islands, and as you’ve already admitted, they’re far too cold for me.”
I couldn’t hide my smile if I’d wanted to. I’d never spoken to someone with such light banter. My heart pattered merrily and I found myself wanting to match his brilliance.
“Are you always so witty?”
“And charming,” he said quickly. “Don’t forget charming.”
Alexander paused at a wide set of doors, already opened, and gestured for me to go through ahead of him.
A long table stretched out in the center of the hall. It could easily have held fifty guests but was set for five. A series of tall windows ran along one wall. Their curtains, long swags of rosy velvet, were left open, showing a moonlit balcony full of artfully arranged potted plants.
Dozens of candles lined the lacquered table in shades of pinks and greens, creating a more intimate space in the room’s vast void. Above us hung three chandeliers, unlit yet glittering like ice.
A footman stepped forward to pull out a chair for me. Alexander rolled up to the spot at my right. Gerard took his place at the head of the table, to my left. Dauphine sat across the table from her son, leaving the seat in front of me open.
A strange hum filled the air, a sound of grinding gears and mechanisms set in motion. It sounded as if the whole house was groaning under sudden duress.
“The lift,” Alexander explained softly.
“Mother must be on her way,” Gerard said.
I jumped at the loudthunkthat seemed to punctuate his words.
In an identical sweep, he and Dauphine rose from their seats as a figure entered the room. Alex gave me a short nod, indicating I should stand as well. A pink warmth spread over my cheeks as I followed after.
She was small and gray, swathed in a dour little dress of black beaded damask, hunched over a bamboo cane. Its glass topper caught the candlelight, momentarily dazzling me as she picked her way across the room. Gerard motioned to leave the table to assist her, but she waved him off with a grumpy gesture.
“Stay where you are, stay where you are.”
Thin white curls were twisted and carefully pinned into a pouf on the top of her head, but some parts of her pink scalp still peeked through. As frail as she appeared, her face was remarkably smooth, her gray eyes sharp and alert, aided by a small pair of silver spectacles that perched low on her button nose.
We waited for her to take her seat before relaxing again.
“Mother, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Verity Thaumas. She’ll be staying with us for the next few weeks. She’s come to paint Alexander’s portrait.” She made aharumphnoise, acknowledging him, but her eyes remained on the table before her. Gerard turned to me. “Miss Thaumas, this is my mother, Madame Marguerite Laurent.”
I remembered what Alexander had said about Salann’s stiff formalities and tried smiling warmly at the older woman. “Marguerite, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.”
Slowly, her eyes drifted to mine. “I’m sorry,” she said, and her voice sounded as creaky as an old wooden rocking chair. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”
“We haven’t,” I clarified, wondering if her mind wandered with age. One of my aunts suffered from a similar malady. My cousins were forever having to remind her of where and when in life she was. Sometimes even who they were. My heart softened at her plight. “I just arrived at Chauntilalie this evening.”
The line of her lips tightened. “Then why on earth would you choose to address me as though we are acquaintances?” Her eyes squinted at me with obvious disdain.
“I…I’m so sorry, terribly sorry, Lady—Madame Laurent. I—”
“If I wanted to address the help, I would have hired you on myself, but as I have not…” She puffed herself as high as her constricting bodice would allow and looked away.
“Mother, Verity Thaumas is more than just—”
She frowned. “Thaumas, did you say, Gerard? She’s one of those Thaumas girls?”
He nodded, shooting me a look of apology. “Ehhh, yes, Mother. Her oldest sister is the Duchess in Sal—”
“I know where they’re from, boy,” she snapped. Marguerite peered across the table with sudden interest. “Thaumas…I remember hearing about you. You and yours,” she corrected herself, wetting her lips with a quick dart of her tongue. “Yes…So, Gerard. You’ve brought one of those cursed girls into my house.”
“Cursed?” Dauphine echoed, the color draining from her face. It left her stained lips bright as a bloody slash.
