"Roslin, you are positively devious!" Christine giggled as Roslin finished recounting another story about her exploits with a suitor. This one involved a few stolen moments with a young Duke in his country estate. This afternoon Roslin and Christine were once again in the sitting room of Roslin's rented townhouse, empty cups of tea on the elegant mahogany table in front of them.
"Come now, Christine. I'm certain you've had your share of experiences with my brother," Roslin retorted.
Christine lowered her eyes as her cheeks flushed. She thought of how her stomach twisted itself in knots whenever Raoul smiled at her; how her breath quickened when his bare skin touched hers. Yet she and Raoul had never really acted on their desires. He was too much of a gentleman to take her to bed before marriage. Christine was surprised at how willing Roslin was to speak freely about her little indiscretions. Perhaps because she already looked on Christine as a sister.
Roslin glanced at the clock on the mantle. "You have distracted me long enough, Christine. We should get back to your lessons. Now, as I said, the behavior at a ball is fairly simple. A lady cannot refuse the invitation of a gentleman to dance, unless she has already accepted that of another."
Christine looked at Roslin quizzically. "You mean, I must dance with anyone who asks?"
"No need to worry, Christine. I'm sure Raoul will have all your dances in advance." Roslin patted Christine's hands supportively. Then she continued, "When we leave, we take care not to disturb the master and the mistress of the house. We later make a visit of thanks, during which time we may discuss the pleasure of the ball."
Christine listened carefully, her head cocked to one side. She didn't understand the need for so many seemingly pointless rules. And one breach of this etiquette could leave her ostracized by all of Raoul's society friends. How on earth was she going to manage it all?
"Now," Roslin went on, "There are many things which you may inadvertently say with your fan. It's best you learn what each action means." She picked up a fan of gilded wood with a silk taffeta leaf and handed it to Christine. Picking up a bone fan with heavy satin twill for herself, she began to demonstrate.
Fanning fast, she said, "This signals an independent woman."
Christine imitated her, smiling brightly.
"Very good. Now this," Roslin continued, fanning in front of her face with her right hand, "is an invitation for a gentleman to approach you."
"I don't suppose I'll have much need of this one," Christine commented.
"The same movement with the other hand says 'Leave me'." Roslin said dramatically, turning up her nose.
Christine could not suppress a laugh as she did the same.
"A fan spread open wide is a signal of love. A fan shut shows hatred. When you open and shut a fan, it means 'Kiss me'." Roslin finished, puckering her lips.
Both girls collapsed into a fit of laughter, grasping each other's arms.
"I'm glad to see that you two are enjoying yourselves," a voice called from the doorway.
"Raoul!" Christine called excitedly from the settee.
Roslin suppressed a smile as her eyes moved back and forth between Raoul and Christine; their had eyes locked, their smiles conveying words unspoken. She walked over to her brother, placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, and moved towards the stairs. "Voletta, would you attend me upstairs please?"
Raoul watched as Voletta obediently followed Roslin up to her room, a sly smile on her lips. He chuckled as he walked to Christine's waiting arms. He placed a soft kiss on her lips, but as he pulled back and looked into her hazy eyes, he felt a pull deep in the pit of his stomach, a fire that ran through his whole body. He pulled her in for a passionate kiss, slowly lowering her onto the settee. She arched her back as his hands roamed down her body and under her skirt, caressing her thighs. He gently nibbled her ear as she ran her hands along the tight muscles of his back, pulling his shirt free from his pants. She released a deep moan as he reached to remove her dress. Suddenly Raoul pulled back, running a hand through his hair as he let out a frustrated sigh.
"Did I do something wrong?" Christine asked worriedly, sitting up beside him.
"Of course not, Christine," he answered, gently rubbing her cheek. "It was my fault. I should have never…We will be married soon enough," he said with a small smile.
Christine nodded, taking Raoul's hand from her cheek and placing a light kiss in his palm.
"I came because I thought you might want to shop for a new dress for the ball."
"I really can't afford a new dress at the moment. One of my old ones will have to suffice," she responded.
"Christine, don't be ridiculous! You know I will buy you whatever you want," Raoul offered.
"Are you sure?"
"You are going to be my wife. All I want is to make you happy," he said sincerely.
"I don't need new dresses to make me happy," she said, playfully placing her forehead against his.
"Well I insist," Raoul laughed, lifting her to her feet.
After bidding farewell to Roslin, Raoul and Christine embarked on the streets of Paris. Raoul desperately wished that he could reach out and grasp Christine's hand as they walked, but he knew it would be improper to do so. He had his valet, Ancel, walk behind them to further ensure the image of propriety. They wandered about the shops in the Rue de la Paix, finally stopping at the Couturier de Villars. Raoul waited patiently as Christine was fitted for her ball gown, which would be delivered in two days time.
After he finished paying the dressmaker, he escorted her back to Mamma Valerius's home in his carriage. They lingered in the doorway, fingers intertwined and lips softly brushing against each other. Raoul ran his fingers through Christine's curls before finally saying goodbye and turning towards his carriage. With a longing look at the closed door, Raoul signaled for the driver to pull away. As Christine's home finally disappeared from view, Raoul's valet Ansel removed a heavy envelope from within his jacket.
"I thought it best to wait for Mademoiselle Daae's departure before giving you this, Monsieur."
Raoul removed the paper from the envelope, a deep frown appearing on his face as he recognized the handwriting. "You judged correctly, Ansel. Mademoiselle Daae must never know of this."