Claire was humming to herself as she walked down the street. It was a sunny day and it was finally warm outside. Her cousin Lillian and her sister Julienne were with her and they had just come from tea at the Holden household.
"Claire!" Julienne let out a pained squeak.
"What's wrong?" Lillian asked.
"Oh no…Simon Reynolds and James Westcliff…together in one place." Claire looked to where the two young men stood together with Gustave near the dressmaker.
"They are best friends, Jules." Claire pointed out. "What ever happened with James?"
"I told him we should just remain friends."
"Was he angry?" Lillian asked, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder.
"No…quite the contrary actually…he seemed…relieved." Julienne pouted.
"God, I'm surprised he could even grace us with his presence." Lillian said. "James Westcliff is a pain in the—"
"Why the devil are they loitering outside a dress shop?" Claire asked, striding aggressively toward them.
"Claire, don't!" Julienne cried. Lillian laughed. Simon raised an interested eyebrow in Julienne's direction and half smiled. Claire didn't have to look back to know her sister was a deep shade of pink.
"Claire!" Gustave said quickly, all color leaving his face. "What brings you here?"
"What brings you here?" She asked accusingly.
"My sister and mother are buying some things. Emmy is attending the opera gala this weekend. She insisted on a new dress." He explained. Claire looked at Jules.
"Emmy never cares about what she wears…" She said quietly. Lillian bit her lip.
"There must be a boy."
"Does it always have to be romantic with you girls?" James asked arrogantly. Lillian bestowed on him a death glare.
"What would you know about romance?" Lillian shot at him. Claire snickered. The two had always bickered since the day they'd met when they were children. They didn't hate each other, but their friendship thrived on fighting and neither would ever admit that they were actually quite a bit like the other.
"How many beaus do you have Lily?" He asked. Lillian grimaced.
"Don't call me Lily…I hate that."
"I know." He grinned at her. A small growl came from her as she reached out a punch him ineffectively in the arm. Simon leaned towards Julienne.
"Are they always like this?"
"Worse, usually." She said nervously with a laugh. Simon grinned.
"Are you going to the gala?" Gustave asked Claire, who sighed.
"Well, Dad, Charles and Bella are leaving for England tonight, so I doubt it." Claire said. "Those galas are so boring lately and we're subjected to the stares of lecherous old men."
"Claire…you'd be subjected to stares of everyone." Simon quipped. "Have you bloody seen yourself lately?" Gustave glared at him.
"Don't remind me." She said moodily. "It's a curse."
"Yes, poor Claire…she's so beautiful…who would want that?" Julienne said sarcastically.
"Well I don't." Claire announced. "I'd rather have somebody want to know me for me." She discreetly looked at Gustave, whose honey blond hair was in adorable disarray and his blue eyes were troubled. "Well, we should go." Claire turned back to her sister and cousin.
"Stay…why don't the three of you come to the bistro with us?" Gustave asked quickly. Claire gave him a disbelieving look.
"I don't think—"
"We'd love to come!" Julienne interrupted, blushing further.
"Really?" James asked her. "Lily, are you alright being out in broad daylight?"
"Drop dead, Westcliff." She said through gritted teeth.
"But I'm so pretty…" He said in mock horror.
"Enough, you two." Claire said, turning to Gustave. "Fine. We'll come along." He smiled at her and she ignored the usual pang of longing for him that she'd felt since she was thirteen. He offered her his arm, which she took out of good manners. Simon paired off with Julienne, leaving James and Lillian. He offered her his arm. Giving him a dirty look, Lillian took it and scowled at him. He seemed to enjoy it.
The bistro was surprisingly empty, and the six of them easily found a table near the back wall. Gustave pulled Claire's chair out for her and she scowled because she knew he was only doing it to be nice. It still irritated that he was all of a sudden interested in her because she was nice looking. Men were so shallow.
A wry grin came to Claire's face.
Perhaps she should teach him a lesson…
"Gustave?" She said in her most flirtatious voice. Obvious surprise crossed his angelic face as he turned to look down at her. "Perhaps I will go to the gala this weekend. My father is one of the biggest patrons after all…" Claire ignored Julienne and Lillian's identical look of question. "The only thing is…I wouldn't want to be a wallflower…"
"Claire," Gustave sounded somewhat appalled. "You know I will always dance with you. We've known each other since childhood." Claire smiled prettily at him.
"Good. Then it's settled."
"I'll come too." Julienne said firmly, looking at Simon. "Will you be there Monsieur Reynolds?"
"Yes…" He sighed, running a hand through his brassy golden hair. "My mother is forcing me. She used to be a prima ballerina you know."
"Oh right…" Claire said. "I forgot that your mother is the daughter of Madame Giry."
"Well my mother is no ballerina and I have to go as well." James said. "You going Lil?"
"My parents are going, so I'll probably go too…but I'm not dancing with you." She glared at him. He beamed at her.
"Such love…we'd be great together me and you."
"Forget it Westcliff."
Claire and Julienne met eyes knowingly. The dynamic between their cousin and James was undeniable. Lillian would never admit it, but she was attracted to him. Claire turned her attention back to Gustave to continue her plan.
"Claire would you like to take a walk with me after we eat?" Gustave blurted out. She blinked at him insurprise and nodded.
"I…" Torn between whether or not it was a good idea, she nodded with a sigh. "Very well."
"Bella! You're just in time for the ball tonight!"
Bella allowed her cousin Gabrielle to practically attack her as she threw her arms around her.
"What ball?" Bella laughed, yawning in exhaustion from the journey. Her Aunt Bianca smiled and kissed her cheek.
"Lady Keating is throwing a masquerade. I'm sure you'd like to go, I know how your family adores Tristan."
"Tristan…?" Bella's eyes widened as she realized she was forgetting he was Lord Keating now. "Oh, right!" Bella sighed. "I don't think I'd like to go. I'm so tired and we only just got here and…"
"And Tris will be glad to see people who are familiar." Charles cut in. "We should go."
"Charles," She ground out at her brother. "I can't dance. Well, not really well anyway…and I am in no mood to make a fool of myself."
"You're a fine dancer." He insisted. Bella stared at him.
"I broke your toe the last time we danced, you dolt." She pointed out. He cringed, remembering.
"Well, it would hurt Tris if we didn't go."
"Tris doesn't even know I am here." She reminded him. "And I am sure he is plenty surrounded by ladies to even care."
"Lord Keating is quite popular." Gabrielle agreed. "He's got quite a reputation."
"He's a good boy." Erik said, coming into the room and joining the conversation. "Bianca." He said, kissing his sister-in-law's cheek.
"Erik…how are Evie and the girls?" Aunt Bianca asked.
"Fine, fine…Madeleine gave birth to Olivia as you know and Evie is just tickled. She's over there twice a week at least." He laughed. "Claire is settling back in at home and Julienne falls in love twice a week."
"And my little Esme?" Bianca asked.
"A handful." Erik replied with a grin. "Luckily Roger has been there to keep her company. You know how she adores him. He and Nadir are looking for permanent residence in Paris."
"Well, Ansel is waiting for you in his study…Gabrielle, Bella and I are going to start getting ready for the ball." Aunt Bianca winked at Bella, who blushed.
"Really, I don't think…"
"Sweetheart, you're on vacation. Have some fun." She said, putting an arm around her shoulder.
"I don't have anything to wear…or a mask." Bella replied.
"I'm sure we have something we can dredge up ." Bianca replied with a grin.
"I have that gold mask from the New Year's Ball last year!" Gabrielle cried.
"And that blue dress that is just a touch too big for you in the bust…" Bianca said.
"With the beading at the bodice and the train?"
"Train?" Bella asked in panic.
"Oh, that'll be perfect!" Bianca agreed. "And we'll let her wear my gold slippers."
"I'm not so sure that's a great idea—" Bella tried.
"And I'll weave some gold ribbon through her hair!" Gabrielle agreed.
"I don't think I'm feeling very well…" Bella said meekly.
"Leave everything to us!" Bianca said excitedly. "Gabrielle, go get the rags so we can set her hair."
Bella gulped.
"The Marchioness thinks there should be a calf's head as an entrée." Frederic said. Tris cringed.
"Disgusting. Absolutely not. She will have prime rib and that is final." He said haughtily, hating how he sounded when he made decisions. At least Charles was going to be here tonight to save him from boredom. Any moment, the guests would be arriving.
He'd made a decision the day he'd received Bella's letter. He was going to find a bride and get it done with as soon as possible. Thus, the reason for the ball. Then, she could go on with her life and be done with his stupidity. He still couldn't believe he'd actually allowed himself to kiss her. Repeatedly.
And she had liked it…
But how could he give her false hope when he knew they could never be together?
And then another thought—why couldn't they be together? So what if she was not born into the peerage? It was becoming common fashion for aristocrats to marry common people. Not that Bella could ever be common. And Gaston Belgrave knew it too.
He could hear the sound of chatter below and the orchestra tuning and knew he'd better get downstairs before his mother came looking for him. There was already a line of young women out the door. He groaned inwardly, thinking of having to dance with all of those wretched gold diggers.
A golden head caught his eye and he realized it was Lotte de Chagny…or the Duchess of Reddon. She grinned in his direction, the same smile as her younger brother's.
"Lord Keating…" She said, walking over to him with a smile. He noticed her dress trying to hide the slight curve of her middle. "It's confinement for me soon." She whispered. He nodded.
"I see that. And where is the Duke?"
"Reprimanding the driver for going over a bump too fast." She laughed. "He's so overprotective when I'm like this."
"Well, I'm sure I would be too." Tris agreed.
"Lord Keating!" Ryan Granger, Duke of Reddon stepped up behind his wife and held his hand out to Tris. "Tris, old boy…never thought I see the day."
Smiling, Tris took his hand and shook it.
"Neither did I…at least, I hope I wouldn't." He laughed. "Congratulations on your newest addition." He nodded toward Lotte. Ryan nodded.
"End of summer." He said, touching his wife's middle.
"Ryan, people will see." Lotte said quietly, looking around.
"See what? That the Reddons are expecting another? Who cares?" He said carelessly. "Oh damn. Nigel Carrington." Kissing Lotte's cheek he sighed. "He saw us. Brace yourself, love."
"We'll talk to you later, Tris." Lotte said apologetically. Tris nodded, returning to greeting guest after guest. It was disgusting the way young ladies threw themselves at him.
"Well there's a face I recognize!" Tris turned to see Charles and his father standing beside him. A reluctant grin came to his face, but he did not react as he once would have. It had become very clear, since he'd become a titled man that London society did not condone boisterousness.
"Messieurs." He said smiling. Shaking Mr. Destler's hand first, he patted Charles on the back. Charles frowned momentarily, taking him in. An eyebrow raised sardonically, but he smiled again, letting his eyes wander.
"Tris, I see a group of English belles that I think I may go try out my irresistible charm on." Charles said, winking. Mr. Destler rolled his eyes.
"And I must go where business calls. Our clients await." He said, urging Charles along with him. Charles shrugged and followed with a wolfish grin.
"My lord…" A demure, but silky voice came from beside him. He sighed, turning to see a group of four girls, all obviously sisters…all unfortunate looking. Nothing at all like the Destler sisters…
English women just didn't have the same charm to him.
"I will save a dance for you." The girl, whose name was something like Celine, or Cecilia…or Amanda…or something…
"Very good. Thank you…" He said. The girls all tittered through their crowd, their mother eyeing him with shining eyes. He swallowed, noticing that she had marriage in her eyes. He shuddered at the thought of being married to one of those horse-faced cows.
"Tristan." A dry voice startled him. He turned, cringing and knowing his mother was going to be standing there.
"Mother." Dutifully, he pecked her on the cheek for appearance's sake.
"I have made a list of all of the eligible young ladies in London and all of the ones I approve of."
"What if I don't approve?" He challenged, irritated already.
"Nonsense." She barked. "You are a man. Men hardly have the sense to choose their own bride."
"Why can't you just want happiness for me like a normal parent?" He asked bluntly, hurt by her sharpness.
"Happiness is severely overrated, my boy." She insisted. "The best leaders are the unhappiest men."
"I somehow doubt that." He muttered under his breath, thinking he finally understood why his father was so miserable.
"I want you to marry this season, Tristan. I want to get it out of the way so that there is ample time for an heir to be begotten."
"Would you like to be in the marriage bed barking orders as well?" He asked, keeping his face pleasant while adopting a harsh tone.
"That is highly inappropriate, Tristan." Her mouth twitched disapprovingly. "And I would if I had to." He made a noise of disgust. "I am retiring to bed. I have a headache."
"So much the better." He answered, smiling at the Duchess of Easton. Vaguely he heard his mother step away. Determined to level his head, he headed into the ballroom to look for Charles. He didn't have many male friends in England, so he was relieved to have Charles and Mr. Destler at the masquerade. A wry grin came to Mr. Destler's face. He always wore a mask.
Charles was surrounded by girls, including the four sisters that had accosted Tris before. He looked a bit distracted…as if he were thinking of somewhere he'd rather be.
"My lord, see any young ladies that interest you?" Lotte asked, joining him.
"God no." He scoffed. "Everyone here is so superficial…not at all like home."
"I know what you mean." Lotte sighed. "I miss Mum and Dad so much when they are in France. And the atmosphere there is just…better." She touched his arm. "But you never know. Cinderella could show up at the ball tonight."
Tris turned to Lotte.
"I never cared much for that bloody awful story." He scowled. "The girl of my dreams is not going to appear in the doorway by magic."
Lotte's eyes drifted momentarily past him to the very door.
"I don't know about the girl of your dreams, but she seems pretty." Lotte offered, nodding to the girl in dark blue in the doorway. A silver mask covered the top half of her face and her mahogany hair hung down her back in elaborate ringlets. She almost looked familiar.
She looked petrified. Poor thing.
"I should go…" He said, already drifting toward the scared girl.
"Of course." Lotte said. Tris couldn't see her face, but knew somehow that she was smiling.
It was bizarre the way the crowd seemed to part, but Tris was able to get to the girl in seconds. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him and her lips curved into a sweet, uncalculating smile.
"My lord." She whispered, bowing her head.
"Do I know you?" He asked. She bit her bottom lip, but did not answer. "Would you dance with me?"
"I'm not very good." She hesitantly admitted. He imagined if he could see her face, she would be blushing.
"I don't mind." He assured her. Taking her gloved hand in his, he led her to where other couples were already dancing. He began to feel a bit better. This was the first girl he'd been able to even look at since Bella. She was moving on…and so should he. Perhaps this girl was the one…
"One hand here." He explained, putting her hand on his shoulder. She laughed.
"That much I do know, my lord."
"Oh. Right…" He said, feeling stupid. "Sorry."
"Never be sorry!" Her voice was so light and kind, it made him feel warm again. And it became apparent she was French with her accent. It sort of hurt to hear this girl's voice. She was so similar to Bella. He twirled her with ease.
"Would you like to go for a walk, my lord?" The mystery girl asked.
"I think that would be nice." He agreed amiably. Leading her out into his mother's English garden, he asked, "You're French?"
"Yes." She laughed, sounding sort of embarrassed. "I was trying so hard to fit in."
"Ah, but I lived in France for a long time." Tris pointed out.
"Oh yes…I do believe I knew that." She replied easily, reaching out to touch a velvety pink rose. Enchanted he smiled down at her.
"And what else do you know about me?"
"Not too much I'm afraid…" She looked away when she said it though.
"I see…" He began to feel guilty, remembering his last time with Bella. Leaving her in the garden at the Chagny's Paris estate after kissing her. He remembered the smell of her hair, the soft curve of her lips when she smiled…
"I can't do this…" He said quietly, turning away and hating himself.
"Can't do what, my lord?" The girl asked.
"I won't. I won't do it. Not to her…"
"Sir…you aren't making any sense at all." She touched his arm. Turning quickly back to her, he sighed.
"You are lovely, Miss. But I am afraid there's someone else." He hated himself as he said it.
"Someone else?" She asked, sounding a bit alarmed. Looking down at her, he touched her chin.
"Yes…I've been fooling myself all this time, when all along, the one I wanted was right under my nose." He said, smiling sadly down at her. "And I've got to go back to her…I've got to try."
"Who?" She whispered. Tris, surprised, studied her face, her pouty lips, her big brown eyes…his heart began to beat wildly against his chest.
"Her name is Isabella…Bella." He breathed. And to his surprise, she broke into a small smile.
"Oh dear." She said sounding rather casual about the whole thing.
"Yes," He cleared his throat and turned toward the house. "So you can imagine, I must make immediate plans to go to Paris and…and…"
"Tris." He froze.
"Yes?" He whispered, still with his back to her.
"Turn around." She said and he did. Reaching up, she slowly unfastened the ribbons holding up her mask, and finally let it drop, revealing her face to him.
"Bella." He said, staring at her as if she were an apparition. "Bella."
He moved quickly, but she met him in the middle and threw her arms around his neck. He stooped slightly, but only to lift her off the ground and hold her at his level and he kissed her like he'd never kissed another woman. She returned the kiss like a woman starved.
Tris pulled away only long enough to speak.
"Marry me." He rasped.
"I…"
"Please." Tris knew he was begging.
"Yes." She said as he set her down.
"I don't have a ring, or really anything to give you right now…but I know I cannot marry any other woman." He shrugged, as the confessions poured from him. "I love you, Isabella Rose Destler. I have for four years now."
"Tris!" She cried in surprise.
"Your brother is going to kill me."
She giggled and took his hands.
"I'll handle him and Dad."
"Oh damn. I'd forgotten your father." He said, feeling sick. She laughed and stood on her toes to kiss him again. Forgetting his anticipation, he swung her around like a small child and unashamedly, let the tears of joy fall.
In their moment of bliss, neither of them noticed the movement behind the hedge.
This is so cheeseball. lol Happy New Year!!!
Syd
