AN: Sorry for not updating sooner. No excuse really. Just allowing procrastination plague me at the moment. Hopefully that has passed. Thank you to all reviewers. You all are as sweet as chocolate ice cream!Please R&R.

Chapter 28. A New Love Story For The Moulin Rouge

"A new production?" interest took over when Ziddler announced it at supper. "What need is there for a new production? 'Spectacular Spectacular' has been the talk of the town since it was first shown."

"I am tired of it," Ziddler said, reaching for more food. "Besides, the new writer we have is splendid, and I cannot deny the story he has. It must be performed as soon as possible."

"As soon as possible?" I repeated slowly. "How soon is that?"

"I shall give the cast their parts tonight."

"Why so soon?"

"Because the play needs to be perfected before the production."

"But…"

All focus in the room faded when Edmund entered with Cecille.

A smile upon Cecille's face,it did not conceal thesadness thatsettled within her eyes, now matter how dazzling of an appearance she made. Dressed in a silver and white silk gown, a band of pearls around her neck, and her hair down, falling over her shoulders without a hair out of place, there was no denying her beauty.

Edmund looked every bit as Gregory tonight, wearing a suit of silver that complimented Cecille's dress. It was completely apparent that Edmund had purchased Cecille's outfit and hisespecially for this evening.

Entering with such smiles on their faces, they seemed the ideal couple amongst society.

Look at their eyes…

Between a darkness and inner animosity, and an adversity…

…not even their smiles could convince the contrary.

The air in the room was scorching, but the fabric of the gown clung to my arms, concealing the marks that were branded upon me.

Time was repeating itself once more…

"You looked gorgeous tonight."

Isabel was sure one to talk. She might not be some exquisite, prominent beauty according to society's standards, but she truly was beautiful. Her hair, pulled up in a high bun, exposing her shoulder in a low, sapphire gown allowed me the knowledge that she would fit well enough within cluster of people Gregory must deal with every other day.

"You aren't that bad looking yourself, Isabel."

"Don't flatter me…" she trailed off, uncomfortable discussing her appearance, as she began to run her fingers through her hair, despite the tight bun it was in. "I know I am nothing special."

"Nothing special?" I laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You have Gregory head over heals in love with you, Isabel. Not just any ordinary girl would be able to pull that off."

"What about yourself?"

Isabel leaned over and grabbed my hair, lifting it up from my shoulders. The sudden exposure made me wish to snatch my hair free, but I kept a straight face when she stared at it. I only prayed that she did not notice the marks upon my collarbone and shoulders that were suddenly perceptible.

"You are gorgeous, Cecille." Isabel sighed and dropped my hair. "Independent. Gorgeous. Talented. About to marry into a wealthy family."

"Lucky me," I said weakly, knowing only half of her talk was true.

Bound by my fiancé…

In love with his cousin…

Manipulating my looks to my advantage…

"Why does Ziddler want me?" Isabel dropped on her bed. "I am no exceptional beauty like you, Cecille. I am nothing worth mentioning to anyone except those who know me. My voice is alright, but not when proclaiming lines that I am required to say. I have never been on stage before."

"You are beautiful. The audience shall get to know you during your performance and will find you worth mentioning. Your voice is crisp, sweet, and makes everyone wanting more. It matters not that you are inexperienced. You are superb."

"I just do not understand why I am to be the star," Isabel rested my head in my hands with a heavy sigh. "You are the star, Cecille. This story… it is a love story of intimacy. Passion. Jealousy. Betrayal. How could I possibly stay true to such a tale? The girl is mysterious. She is supposed to have every man who meets her fall for her. She is talented. Independent. Confident. Sure of herself. Why am I playing her?"

I could not believe her doubt in everything and everyone around her.

"Need I repeat myself again?" I teased, my hands seeking my hips saucily. "You were made for this part. This role was made for you. This story. This part. Everything about it…"

Perhaps more than you know…

"I don't know who my lover is."

"Your… lover?" I choked, a defense arising within me as my hostility took over. "Gregory loves you Isabel! What a great time to decide to find someone else!"

"Gregory…" Isabel bit her lip, a fear taking over her.

"No need to cry about it!" I scowled, all of my hurt, pain, frustration, annoyance, and tribulation evoked in my voice.

"Who… who is the one to be the lover of… Bella?" Isabel stuttered, in hysterics.

"Was that what you were talking of?" I laughed at her distress, unable to believe that Isabel was merely asking of her character. "No need to get so ruffled up, Isabel. I declare you can be the most emotional person at times."

"I do not mean to be…" she blubbered, and I only grew more annoyed.

"No need for low spirits now," I grew surprised at how I tried to lighten the atmosphere although I was feeling just as low as she. "Come now, Isabel. I do not know why you are so upset. It was improper and rude of me to be so hasty to jump to conclusions. Of course you're being faithful to Gregory."

"Why does he love me?" Isabel began to silently cry.

"I don't understand you."

The need to slap her in jealousy was empowering me.

How could she be so hesitant and distrustful towards Gregory? Did she not see his honest love? She was to be married to the Duke. The richest, most powerful man she would ever be able to cross paths with. What need was there to cry? What was so unbearable in her life that she would allow herself to be so distressed and afflicted?

He loved her so…

"I do not know who is playing the role of Christopher," I replied curtly, not wanting to spend another moment in this room, at the woman who had one the heart of Gregory and cried over his love in questioning. "It matters not either, as long as you know your lines. This is show business now, Isabel. You cannot simply cry over every little thing that comes at you. You're stronger than that. I know it. You know it."

When her crying did not subside, I grew frustrated.

"Be ready before dawn," I ordered her. "If you wish to spend your night crying over Lord only knows what, that is your choice, Isabel. I will have no more of the matter. Good night."

The audacity of her! To proceed on in such a manner! As if I could possibly help the fact that I loved the man who loved her, and yet she continued to doubt him! To question him! To cry in the joy that surrounded her! How ungrateful! How undeserving!

WHY did he love her?

Stopping when I entered my room, I stared at my reflection. My hair now disheveled from stomping down to my room. My body tense. My eyes, oh those eyes, filled with a rage and sorrow that would never leave me.

I did not even know I was crying just as hard as she.

"Oh Isabel…"

Covering up my face, shame overtook all jealousy and hurt.

Isabel is my friend.

When I was a courtesan, no better than any other whore, Isabel had welcomed me. At first she was hesitant, filled with doubt, but that was just how she was. Surrounded in a life where she was overlooked, having people accept her and want to be with her was still hard to grasp. How could I be so ignorant and full of anger to allow myself to overlook her own situation, even for a moment.

Love can drive you into insanity.

There was no doubt about it.

"Isabel," I entered her room, where she still sat crying to herself. "I'm sorry."

Looking up at me, I gave her a weak smile, which made her wipe her nose and laugh softly. When I hugged her, she held on tightly.

"I was never beautiful before this," she whispered. "Not as a baby. Not whilst in schooling. Not when I went to social gathering. Never. Not until I moved to the Moulin Rouge. It is the one thing that Ziddler was able to give me, that my mother could not."

My grip on Isabel tightened with every word as I cried along with her.

"Now I know why mother always wished to see him," Isabel dug her nails into my shoulder as memories invaded her mind. "He made her feel beautiful. He made her feel like, perhaps, you were worth someone's time…"

Her talk fading as my own grip grew stronger...

I needed her for support just as much as she needed me.

Ziddler had kept his word.

The plan is all set, Edmund grinned maniacally to himself. By the end of all of this, Isabel shall no longer be a burden towards this family.

It was repulsive how tied his cousin was to his fiancé. Did he know better than to allow a woman to have such a grasp upon him? Did he never learn from his past experiences?

His maid. His musician. Every woman he crossed paths with. Did he not notice how quickly they vanished before his eyes once I stepped in?

There was no denying the chemistry of his production. The story was as heart-filled as any love story, and it would be a hit with the critics of Paris.

"Although," Edmund's derisive grin grew with his thoughts. "The production, like any great love story set at the Moulin Rouge, was sure to end in blood."

It was his favorite part of the play.

When the curtain falls…

…so would all chances of his cousin becoming married to that harlot.