“Don’t.” She waved her hand. “And please stop calling Franck my husband.” She leaned in close, the hint of annoyance now noticeable in her tone. “Can’t you give me a little more credit?”
André was taken aback, and he stammered: “Oh, my mistake, mademoiselle.”
And then the unexpected happened: a smile bloomed across her features. When she laughed, the noise sent shivers up André’s spine; it was a sound from his childhood. The lovely, crystalline sound of female gaiety, an intoxicating ripple, like a first sip of champagne.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh at your expense.” She eyed him intently, and for a moment André involuntarily held his breath, stunned by her gaze. He offered his hand. “André Valière.”
Her eyes narrowed to a squint, and André prepared to leave, but she raised a gloved hand and held out her empty glass. “I’ve finished my champagne.” She arched a lone eyebrow. “Would you be a gentleman and refill my glass, or should I wait for my companion to return?”
“I’d…yes, all right.” André took her glass and turned, crossing the room toward the drinks. He was eager to get back to her before any other man had summoned the courage to approach her.
“Two for me?” She smiled as he reappeared, looking at the glasses he held. “Perhaps you are a gentleman, even if your brother is not.”
“One for me, and one for you,” he said, offering her a glass.
“Well then, santé.” She clinked his glass and they both took a sip.
“About my brother.” André lowered his drink, sighing.
“Please, he was highly amusing. In fact, I think that’s the reason Franck got angry to begin with—it was obvious that I was enjoying the other man’s company a bit more than his own.” She took a long sip.
“And what prompted the quarrel?”
The woman’s eyes now scanned the room as she answered, as if she were looking for someone. Perhaps for her companion? Finally, as if she had no other option, she turned back to André. “Oh, he kept asking me to dance. I kept replying that there was no music, and therefore I would not dance. But your brother was undaunted, and merely answered that if there was no music to be had here, then perhaps he should take me somewhere where there was.”
She took another sip, turning her eyes back toward André’s. They were the same light blue as his mother’s eyes, as Remy’s, too. But they had a coolness that neither of theirs had.
“I was considering his offer when Franck intervened.”
“I would have strongly advised against that, mademoiselle.”
“What?” She offered half a smirk. “Leaving with your brother?”
“With him? To be certain. Or any man whose acquaintance you’ve only just made. These are dangerous times to be taking up with complete strangers.”
“Oh, I don’t disagree with you, soldier. I was simply ready to accept any offer to leave this party. It’s terribly dull.” She looked out over the crowd once more, her manner distracted.
“So you don’t like your date, and you disapprove of the party. Mademoiselle, why did you come?”
“My uncle is here,” she said, her tone suddenly drained of any emotion. “Nowadays he rarely orders me to do anything directly, but, when he does, I’ve learned it is unwise to disobey.”
“I see,” André said, to be polite, but wondering to himself what such a comment meant. Based on her uneasy expression, he deemed it best to change topics. “Strange to be at a party at Christmastime without any celebration of Christmas, is it not?”
“These are strange times indeed.” She nodded, finishing her champagne.
Just then, the crowd that had been steadily building around the figures of Robespierre and Danton began to call out for quiet. Their hosts wished to address the party. André turned his focus toward Robespierre, looking at the narrow-figured man as he lifted his shoulders and tossed his head back, as if preparing for a performance.
“Say, I’m a bit warm.” She was leaning close now, whispering in André’s ear. Her breath was sweet with champagne. “Would you be kind enough to escort me outside to get some air?”
André threw a cursory glance toward the crowd gathering around Robespierre before looking back at her. “If you don’t mind the cold?”
“But I just told you I was warm,” she said, stepping closer to him. Surprised but delighted, André offered his arm and led her toward the front.
“No!” She froze, her eyes suddenly wide with a look that resembled fear. “Let’s not go that way. Let’s see if there’s a side entrance.” She pulled him through the crowd and toward the back of the hall, and André followed willingly.