Bal Masque (8 page)

A pair of slender chairs at the end of the veranda sat away from the direct line of dancers but would not be so isolated as to make Lucienne the object of gossip. Armand drew one toward her and held it as she managed her tulle skirts.

“Having your cousin and
grandmère
here must have been a help to you and Madame Toussaint with the wedding plans,” Armand commented as the silence between them grew.

“Oh, Mama has everything well in hand, but it’s been fun to have Pierrette here. It’s good experience for her. She’ll be going through much this same bustle soon, I’m sure.”

Armand raised a querying brow. “Her father has accepted a suitor for her hand? I hadn’t heard.”

Lucienne shook her fan at him. “Now, now, I can’t be telling family secrets to you just yet, but I vow Pierrette will be wed in less time than anyone thinks. She’s a very pretty girl, and you know she’s the gleam in her papa’s eye. A man who wins her will be fortunate indeed.”

“Then there will be two fortunate men in this family.”

Considering the plans she had along that line, Lucienne had no intention of following that course of thought. She searched for some diverting topic to introduce and said the first thing that came into her head. “Grandmère told Pierrette and me there had been another dreadful duel at the Oaks just a few days before she came to visit. Why do men do such awful things?” As the last word left her lips she knew she’d brought up gossip no gentleman would discuss with a lady.

Armand gave her a look of some astonishment, but rather than drawing away at her breach of propriety, he bent closer. “It’s often arrogance, sometimes encouraged by too many cups emptied in the course of an evening. I’ve seen men challenged over the most trifling matters—a fancied slight to a popular ballerina’s performance, the best purveyor of sweets, and other equally foolish things.” His gaze seemed to see beyond the veranda and its passing dancers. “Swords and pistols at dawn aren’t trappings of sport. A man’s life should be worth more than a dancer’s lackluster performance or a preference in bonbons.”

Lucienne forgot any conventional rule that might have stopped her words. She’d brooded over Philippe’s plight far too much to practice restraint. “How can a man of good sense be drawn into such a stupid affair? It’s not logical.”

Armand’s mouth thinned. “Your
grandmère
was speaking of the Blanchard and Bowie matter, I suppose.” He glanced up as she nodded affirmation. “Pride swollen by mistrust, I think. And two men who have only suspicion and arrogance between them. I believe we saw the beginnings of the most recent turn of events at the horserace last month. You will recall the scene we witnessed in the barn.”

Lucienne flinched at the reminder of her attempt to speak privately to Philippe. “Not truly an affair of honor, then? Just two angry men with a grievance.”

“No, more likely a history of trickery and misjudgment on both sides. No honor attaches to either party in this meeting.” His look met hers. “Not that there isn’t sometimes a reason to fight, or even to kill, Lucienne,” he added. “A man defends his family, or his life, where there’s need. But not his vanity or his convenience. A man shouldn’t manufacture a pretext for taking up arms where none exists. Only if danger is real should a man resort to weapons.”

“I should apologize for mentioning something so indelicate, I suppose. It’s gracious of you to indulge my whims.”

“Lucienne, I am not being indulgent.” His face looked harder, intent, his hand on hers almost painful with the sincerity of his thoughts. “I would far rather talk to you of real concerns and honest opinions than trade in the empty conventions most of society calls conversation. I might shock your mother with my views, or perhaps anger your father, but I believe Madame Thierry has a more realistic view of life. She and I might see a good many things at the same level.”

Lucienne raised her fan to hide momentary confusion. Armand’s comments suggested he approved of the turn their conversation had taken. She’d never suspected such an attitude could exist in Armand Dupre’s orthodox mind. He actually appeared interested in her opinions. In uncharted seas, she fell back on convention and safe conversation. “Oh, Grandmère is a scandal to the whole family and apt to say most anything to shock Papa. It amuses her to get his temper up when she knows he can’t answer back.”

Armand leaned back in his chair, his face no longer bright with interest. “But she is your favorite relative, regardless?”

Lucienne laughed outright. “Of course. A young girl adores the
grandmère
who passes out forbidden sweets and spins colorful tales. Mama says I mustn’t let Grandmère fill my head with her unseemly notions and her outspoken ways.” She gestured toward the tiny lady in the deep rose gown as Madame Thierry whirled by on the arm of Pierrette’s tall brother. Both seemed to be enjoying the dance.

“She’s quite spry, isn’t she?” Lucienne waved at the couple as they passed.

“I think she’d be offended by that word. It appears your grandmother holds her own among the belles of the ball.” He rose and gave her a slight bow. “I know you promised the next waltz to me, but may I beg off? I’d like the honor of taking a more mature lady around the floor once.”

Lucienne gave him a demure curtsey. “I’ll manage to find another partner, I’m sure. Enjoy your dance, but don’t let Grandmère tell you any of her salty stories. She’s been known to make them up, you see, just to see if she can get away with it.”

Lucienne saw her cousin half hidden behind a festive garland and slipped through the crowd to join her. “Avoiding a dance with Uncle Gaston?”

“No, not really,” Pierrette protested, but she drew back against the wall as her father came in view. “I must give him a duty dance sometime.”

They watched the dancers turn and bow to the pattern of the dance. Pierrette motioned Lucienne closer and lowered her voice to the faintest whisper. “I’m feeling very uncertain about this plan of yours. You and Armand were having such an intimate conversation on the veranda. He’s devoted to you, as anyone can see, and I think he’ll be outraged to find himself married to another.”

Lucienne hid her frustration behind her sparkling mask. Pierrette wasn’t going to back out at this point, not when the plans were finally coming together. “Oh, you silly goose, you don’t have any idea what we were discussing, do you?”

“It looked very much like two people charmed to be sharing a moment alone.”

“And so we were glad to have those few minutes,” Lucienne agreed, “but we were discussing you.”

“Armand spoke to you about me?” Pierrette flushed a bright pink and fluttered her fan to cool her burning cheeks.

Lucienne recast the conversation to suit her needs of the moment. “I agreed with him that you are a beautiful girl, and the man who wins you will be fortunate indeed. He was wondering why no announcement of an engagement has been made.”

“Really? You were truly speaking to him of me? And he was interested in the plans Papa is making for my future?” Pierrette looked near to swooning.

“Just so,” Lucienne affirmed. “I think he’ll be quite pleased, come the evening of the grand
bal masque
. And I know I will be.”

“If it should truly be so, then I would be a very happy woman.” Pierrette sighed. “Though how he could ever prefer me to my most beautiful cousin, I can’t imagine.”

It wasn’t likely Armand would ever admit that was not the case, Lucienne told herself. When the man found himself married to Pierrette, he’d be far too much the traditional gentleman to make a fuss about it. He would never embarrass his wife, no matter how awkward the situation.

“And so you shall be, for we’ll make certain of it.” Lucienne saw the dancers begin to drift toward the refreshment table. A familiar figure edged through the crowd. “I fear Uncle Gaston has found us at last. I’m going to be a coward and leave him to you. I see Grandmère is taking over the corner and holding court with all her admirers. I’ll go sit with her while you have your duty dance with your papa.”

“And then I’ll send him to you for the next one.” Pierrette giggled. “It’s only fair to share.”

Lucienne made good her escape and joined the small group clustering around Madame Thierry. General laughter rippled through the group at some quip the older woman made. “Glad to see you having such a good time, Grandmère.”

“I enjoy a party now as much as I did when I was a girl your age.” A polka filled the room. Though a number of partners asked for the dance, Grandmère turned them away, saying she’d like to sit with her granddaughter a bit. The knot of chattering friends thinned until Lucienne and her grandmother sat alone.

“I like that young man of yours. I believe René has done something right, for a change, in arranging this particular marriage for you. Young Dupre has a head on his shoulders. Backbone leavened with a little wit, and as handsome as the very devil, though he doesn’t make a show of it.” Her look searched the room. “Not like some I’ve noticed.” Lucienne followed her glance and saw Philippe Pardue making his way, his brilliant blue evening attire marking him like a peacock among drab pigeons, across the room.

“I’m sure Papa will be glad to have your approval,” Lucienne murmured. “I think I promised this dance to Uncle Gaston, if you will excuse me.” A dance with her uncle would be a small price to pay for the chance to speak to Philippe. He’d be so pleased to know how well their plans were going.

“Surely this is our dance, mam’selle.” Philippe drew her into the dance the moment Uncle Gaston released her.

“I’ve been looking for you all evening,” she scolded. “I began to think you weren’t coming.”

“Not come, and miss the chance to dance one last time with the belle of Mille Fleur? Perish the thought.” He managed to look dismayed and amused at the same time. His black eyes danced with mischief even as his lips spoke apologetic words.

“Can we get to the veranda without making a stir? I must talk to you where we won’t be overheard.” Lucienne gestured toward the latticed doors.

“Done and done.” He guided their dance steps in a meandering circle till they stood next to the open doors.

She led him to a shadowed corner, darker than the one she had occupied with Armand earlier. “I’ve done it, Philippe. I’ve convinced Pierrette to take my place at the
bal masque
. She’ll be married to Armand, and I’ll be free. You and I can slip away as soon as Pierrette goes to join Papa for the ceremony. I can get down the back stairs. If I see anyone, I’ll just go through Papa’s office and meet you there. Père Jean-Baptiste drones on over every word and takes forever just to say grace, so the ceremony will take ages. Then the party won’t unmask until midnight. We’ll be well away from here before anyone discovers the bride is Pierrette.”

Philippe lounged casually against the veranda railing. “You’ve made a wealth of plans, mam’selle. What about Marie, that gargoyle of a chaperone of yours? Won’t she become suspicious of the substitute bride? She knows you very well.” His lazy tone sounded amused and indulgent.

“Bah, Marie will be kept so busy she won’t have a second to look too closely. She’ll see a girl in an elaborate costume, a masked girl with dark hair barely visible in the candlelight. It’s what she expects to see. Why would she think otherwise?”

Philippe laughed softly in the dark. “The best-laid plans
, chèrie,
can destruct in the wink of an eye. An unexpected turn of fate, an unforeseen interruption, anything at all can upset your arrangements.”

“Nothing will, not when Pierrette is so taken with Armand. I’ve got her fairly well convinced that he would prefer to marry her. My cousin is a scared rabbit, but I’ll keep her in hand.”

Philippe chuckled as if she were jesting. “It’s the soft, scared ones who often make the most trouble. Just when you need to depend on them, they give way at the last minute, and leave you grasping at thin air. Your cousin may well lose her nerve in the end. Her infatuation with Dupre might not be enough to keep her going.”

“I can manage Pierrette. I’ve been leading her along all her life. She never has an ounce of spirit unless I push her.”

“Perhaps, but mind what I say. The very one you think is most committed may well let you down.” He made a move as if to lead her back to the dancing.

“A moment, Philippe.” Lucienne stopped him. “This affair with Bowie and the Blanchards. Is it over?”

Philippe stepped back. “How did you hear of such gossip, mam’selle? Not from your papa, I’m sure.”

“I heard of it from Grandmère. She makes it a point to learn of everything that goes on around her. She told Pierrette and me about the feud and the duel.”

Philippe looked stern and implacable behind his folded arms. “Your grandmère should guard her tongue.”

Lucienne paid no attention to his words. “Philippe, you mustn’t challenge this Blanchard. I know your cousin was wounded and the family holds Blanchard responsible for the quarrel, but it’s their feud with the Blanchards and nothing to do with you. I’m sure you had no part in the trouble at the horse race. Apologize if you think you must, but stay out of the affair. You could be killed. Please, promise me you won’t confront the man or become part of the argument.”

“Mam’selle, there are affairs you do not understand. A man must defend his honor, or that of his family, against any stain. This isn’t your business, and we won’t speak of it again. It isn’t suitable conversation for your ears.”

Lucienne stamped her foot in fury. “If it concerns the life and death of the man I plan to marry, it very well is my business.”

He reached out to take her hand. “Lucienne, such distress shows your kind heart. But there are things in the lives of men that are beyond you. A man’s honor is sacred. If he is insulted, then he must respond. Don’t trouble yourself with things you don’t understand. Let a man deal with them. Your sweet concern is treasure enough for anyone. More on this dull subject of duels and such tarnishes the splendid evening, an evening made for dancing and courtship. Let’s put aside everything else and take pleasure in the moment.”

Lucienne permitted Philippe to take her back into the house. A thorn of dissatisfaction pricked her thoughts as she danced and flirted through the evening. Philippe had dismissed her worry. He’d pushed away her fears for his safety. He’d not given her his promise to curtail the hostilities between the Blanchards and his cousins. How could she fail to understand what he said about a man’s honor being sacred?
Sacre bleu
, she’d been brought up on the code of honor, but taking on his cousins’ quarrel still didn’t make sense. Even stodgy Armand Dupre admitted that.