Chapter 70 Fallacy

Philippe had been correct - shopping for new clothes with Isabelle and Christine was one of the most wearisome days Raoul had ever spent in his entire life. Even though he and Philippe had sat with newspapers and endless cups of coffee, outside of the dressing rooms in Madame LaFey's small modiste, they'd often been called upon to give an opinion on colours, shapes and - God forbid - accessories, until neither of them could contain their boredom any longer.

Christine, to his relief, hadn't been anywhere near as demanding of his time as Isabelle had been of Philippe. And she had also not spent a fraction as much money. He'd glanced down the list in his hand as he and Philippe had prepared to settle the account, so that the necessary fabrics could be ordered from Paris. Christine had requested an evening dress, a heavy winter cloak, a hat and some gloves. Her whole order took up less than three lines on the list, whereas Isabelle's continued to the bottom of the page.

But then Christine was also not sitting practically in his lap, delirious with gratitude - as Isabelle was now with Philippe - at the other side of their carriage. Raoul smiled at the sight; the more Philippe chided her for spending too much, the more Isabelle cooed over him and allowed him to kiss her cheek, on the pretext that he was whispering in her ear. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Raoul tried to look over at Christine without being too obvious. She sat almost a foot away from him, with her hands clasped properly in her lap, staring out of the carriage window into the late afternoon sunshine.

How he longed to emulate his brother and slip his arm around her waist, or whisper in her ear, his lips ached to touch her soft skin again. Yet since the night they'd left the Opera, she'd given him no other opportunity to kiss her, and it was about to drive him mad. Especially when Isabelle was such a contrast, so free with her affections to her finance. Why couldn't Christine be the same? He sat silently fuming for a while, wondering what on earth he could do to change the situation and came up blank. Until Isabelle, as usual, saved him the trouble.

"I cannot wait for the dresses to be completed, can you, Christine?" she said, smiling.

"No," Christine replied, drawn out of her daydream by the sudden question. "They should be lovely."

"The colour you chose was perfect," Isabelle continued, hardly drawing breath. "And the hairpiece you suggested that I chose to go with the blue dress was definitely the right -"

God - enough," Philippe laughed. "Raoul and I have had this nonsense all day. You surely can't expect us to put up with it all night as well?"

"I'm sorry," Isabelle said, her eyes darkening with mischief as she looked back at Philippe. "But I was only going to say - I think we should have a ball. On Christmas Eve."

Philippe pursed his lips, pretending to give it a moment's thought. "No, I don't think so."

Isabelle smacked him playfully on the arm. "If I don't get to wear the gold gown I ordered in front of Annette Minot before she orders one herself, I'll never forgive you."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" he asked, rolling his eyes at Raoul.

But for once, Raoul was in complete agreement with Isabelle. "I think it sounds like a marvelous idea," he said. For what better way could he have Christine willingly in his arms the entire evening, with nothing coming between them? And perhaps at the end of the night, they might take some air together on the terrace, where it would be entirely proper for him to ask for another kiss?

Philippe looked across the carriage as if Raoul had grown two heads. "You do?" Then he glanced at Christine; her pretty face was stricken at the thought, before she cleverly managed to hide her it with another anxious smile. Whatever reason Raoul had for wanting this - and of course it would have something to do with the girl sitting next to him - Philippe hoped his brother knew what he was doing. "Very well," he agreed, much to Isabelle's increased delight. "If we must."