Chapter Two

Lucas gaped. "Um…"

"Why, good evening, Mrs. Bouchard," Beatrice said smoothly.

Lucas looked at his mother, then at the girl who had gotten him in this mess. His mouth opened and closed, but he had no words. What was he supposed to say? How could he explain their presence in the servants' quarters? He stared at Beatrice, hoping she had a better excuse.

"Good evening, Beatrice, Lucas." Lucas' mother stood upright at her full five feet and two inches and crossed her arms over her chest.

The commotion had gotten the attention of Lucas' father and Beatrice's parents, who joined Lucas' mother.

"Is something the matter?" Lucas' father asked, taking a sip of brandy.

"Oh, Beatrice is just having a bit of an adventure. Aren't you, darling?" her mother asked brightly.

"Exactly," Beatrice enthused, taking Lucas' hand. "Pardon us for intruding, but I was just so intrigued by what you delightful adults might be discussing. Maman, you said I was becoming quite the young lady just last week, and, Papa, you told me I would be part of polite society in a few short years." She batted her eyes.

Lucas still grappled for something-anything-to say. Was this girl for real? "Yeah," he added. "What she said."

Beatrice's parents chuckled like she was the cutest little entertainer.

"Oh, that's completely all right, ma petite chere," her father said. "It's getting quite late anyway. I was about to head up."

"Come along, darling," her mother added, holding out her hand to Beatrice.

Beatrice took her mother's hand and glanced back at Lucas and mouthed, "Good night." She blew a kiss.

Lucas' face warmed. He tugged at his collar, feeling like he was choking. Oh, what a disaster! What an embarrassment! Tomorrow, he would put this vixen in her place.

After Beatrice and her parents left, Lucas' father said, "Well, you might as well step into the room." He took a seat at the table with the decanter and poured himself another glass.

Lucas' mother sighed and closed the door behind him. "Lucas, what's the meaning of this behavior? You know better."

The young boy met his mother's disapproving gaze. Although she was only a few inches taller than him, she struck a dominating presence.

"I didn't mean to, Mother. It's just that Beatrice, she, um, she insisted I sneak around with her." And she looked mighty pretty doing it, too. He blushed.

"Be that as it may, you know full well the expectations. I'm disappointed, Lucas."

"I'm sorry, Mother. It won't happen again. I promise."

"See that it doesn't. And please look me in the eye and don't stutter when you speak, young man."

Lucas reddened more. Just when he thought his humiliation was through, his mother placed the cherry on top of that humiliation sundae. Did his mother think it was a decadent treat?

"Yes, Mother." He met her eyes levelly.

In the background, his father was lost in his thoughts, or so he appeared as he gazed out the window.

His mother glanced at his father. "Richard, do you have anything to add?"

The older man snapped out of his daze. "What's that?" He stood and came to Lucas. "Listen to your mother, Lucas, but, Helen, you must admit that Beatrice is becoming quite the stunning young lady." With a grin, he said to Lucas, "In a few years, who knows? Perhaps you'll be marrying her." His father chuckled.

Lucas wanted to protest. Really! The very idea of marrying or talk of such might as well be the whipped cream on the humiliation sundae. "Am I dismissed, Mother?"

His mother frowned at Lucas' father, although a slight smile tugged at her lips after a moment. Her eyes softened as he placed her hand on Lucas' back and drew him toward her. "All right, that's enough excitement for one evening. Give us a hug."

Lucas half-heartedly hugged each of his parents, murmured "good night," and left the room as quickly as possible without running or gaining unnecessary attention.

Once upstairs, he turned right, intent to head to his bedroom, but Beatrice's teasing voice said behind him, "Wasn't that fun?"

Lucas halted, stiffened, and turned. "No, it wasn't. You embarrassed me in front of my parents and yours." He made to leave, but her hand on his stopped her. He tried to pull away, but her persistence was stronger.

"Wait." The plea in her tone tugged at him more than her hand.

"Oh, what is it now?" Lucas tried to keep the impatience from his voice, but he was tired, tired because of the late hour and tired of this girl toying with him.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted a bit of fun." Beatrice stepped closer until nothing separated them. "Come on. You've got to admit it was at least a little fun."

"Well…" Lucas stared at her large dark eyes gazing at him like a puppy. Her lips were full, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered what it would be like to kiss them, properly kiss them, not a slight brush like before. "Maybe."

Beatrice giggled, pecked his cheek, and took off down the corridor.

Lucas stood rooted to the floor like a statue with a dazed expression and his hand on his cheek where her lips had brushed. He shook his head and vowed he wouldn't allow Beatrice to make a fool of him again.

How wrong he was.

As the years passed, Lucas and Beatrice saw each other once or twice per year. By fifteen, he was taller than her. She blossomed into a regal beauty who seemed to know it, flaunted it, and exploited it. While the adults spent endless hours schmoozing, Lucas and Beatrice were left to their own devices.

During the summer when they were both eighteen, they strolled through the gardens. The sun languished as the humid evening air pressed on Lucas' skin. The temperature hadn't cooled much as the shadows extended. He watched their stretched silhouettes meander through topiaries and rose bushes. The scent of a thousand flowers filled the air, but as Lucas contemplated the young woman beside him, he found none as alluring as her.

His hand hung idly at his side, his fingertips brushing hers every so often. She must have sensed his little game, for Beatrice stopped and surveyed him.

"Do you want to hold my hand, Lucas?"

Fresh faced and a boy who thought he was a man, Lucas smiled shyly. "If that's all right."

"Then hold my hand."

He took it. Unlike his childhood counterpart, this version of Lucas didn't want to let go. Gone was the girl who yanked and demanded. She had matured into a sweet mystery waiting to be unraveled.

Hands swinging between them, they walked.

"This has been a wonderful visit," Beatrice said. "It's a shame it must end so soon."

"Time always seems to go too fast when I'm with you," Lucas admitted. "I've wanted to hold your hand every time. I'm sorry I didn't ask sooner."

"Why did you wait so long?"

Lucas shrugged. He knew why. He'd been afraid of rejection. It was easier to let the other person make the first move and then act, but only in such a way that was acceptable. But how could he tell her that? Would she really want to know? He didn't wish to dampen the mood, so he kept quiet.

"If I'm being honest," Beatrice said, seemingly fine with moving past her question, "I've wanted to hold your hand for a long time, too."

This elicited a chuckle from Lucas. "You did, when we were twelve."

She giggled. "Not like that. And I apologize for how I acted back then. I liked you and just didn't know how to tell you."

He gaped. "You liked me. Really? You called me a bore, said I was dull. I haven't changed. Books are still better companions than most people…except you, of course." He blushed.

Beatrice took his other hand. "I also said you were sweet. You still are, always have been."

Lucas knew his face would appear deep red if it weren't for the darkness that now settled over the landscape. "Well, that's kind of you to say…"

"Do you remember our first kiss?" Beatrice was so close, her breath was hotter that the warm air on Lucas' face.

He chuckled nervously. "How could I forget? You got us in trouble."

"I did not," she mock-huffed. "You misremember."

Lucas tapped his temple. "No, I remember perfectly well. Mind like a steel trap."

"Well," she said, leaning toward him, "remind me how it went."

"There's no one here to disturb us this time." Lucas did a cursory glance around the area to be sure. Then he eased toward her until his lips found hers. This time, he closed his eyes, as he'd read he was supposed to do from novels.

She tasted of strawberries and champagne from dessert, and as he breathed in, the flavors mixed with the aromas of those thousand flowers, and Lucas wrapped her in his arms and thought this was what love must be.