A/N: Thank you so much again! I thank you especially for putting up with these sporadic updates- the show goes up in March and if the story isn't done then, I promise updates will be MUCH more quick in coming.

I also thank you for putting up with a lot of exposition. I know this may seem like it isn't going anywhere, but I promise you, it is. I will say I don't think Raoul will spill the beans, but there may be a first puzzle piece in this chapter. This is a short one that has to be done in order for the next chapters to get a bit more interesting. I could have gone on with this, but I liked how I ended it, so I left it. It's fluff, but I hope you enjoy.

Raoul

I have never claimed to fully understand my son, but it really goes beyond the pale to invite this woman to the house! I don't think Charles need be celibate, especially since his former wife seems to have caused most of the problems in his life, but I can't see what bringing this Angelique to the house will do for him. He's a fool if he thinks it's going to be that simple.

Charles William

January 11, 19—

Tonight is the special supper, and I am to put on my good suit and make sure my face is clean. Father is going round to pick up Miss Thibeau at six precisely, with dinner to be at six thirty, and we're going to have duck. The cook told me.

I had to be very good for Father to even agree to the supper, and that meant no sneaking around or magic tricks for a whole week! I can't wait for dinner to be over, because I read about something you can put in a dessert to make sparks, and Grandfather is coming over tomorrow night.

Charles

Dinner went quite well, when you factor in Charles' personality and the fact that I hadn't entertained a lady in several years as variables. I suppose I should say the dinner was refreshingly free from magic tricks, ventriloquism and the occasional leaping teacup. I don't doubt for a moment Charles will be off his best behavior now that I've acceded to his request to meet my friend, but at least now I know his curiosity may buy me quiet time.

I tried my best to forewarn Angelique on the cab ride over, she of course knew about Charles' mask, but not much more, and nothing of his personality.

"He's curious," I started, after she had asked about him.

"What little boy isn't?" she laughed, adjusting her gloves. She was more dressed up than I had ever seen her, and I worried she was going to be disappointed in both company and fare.

"I don't mean he wants to know why the sky is blue," I said with a chuckle, "unless he wants to know the exact chemistry of the atmosphere that could make it that way."

"No," I continued, "you're much more likely to get the third degree from him."

"Well," she said, "I shall try to keep my closet skeletons well-concealed." She laughed again, and I hoped it was a good sign of the evening to come.

Indeed, the first course was scarcely served when my impeccably dressed son came forth with his line of questioning.

"How did you and papa meet?" Charles asked, with the disarming innocence appropriate of his age- except that Charles had never acted appropriate for his age and I was immediately on guard. But Angelique handled the question well, and I foolishly started to relax.

"I met your papa at one of his concerts," she said.

"Do you enjoy the piano?"

"Well, yes, but that wasn't why I was there," she said.

"Are you a spy?" She laughed.

"In a way, yes," she said, and I noticed his attention went from whatever calculations he may be making to a childish interest, and I was reminded that above all he was still a little boy, and not immune to the fantasies they hold: part of his intense imagination was still reserved for spies and heroes.

"My brother manages an opera house," she said, "and it is my job to keep a look out for promising talent."

"They don't play piano at operas," Charles said. I wondered how he had known that, I had yet to take him to an opera, presuming he would be bored.

"No," she said, "but sometimes there are singers. Besides, my friend loves piano music and she and I enjoy listening. I teach piano."

"Papa said," he replied. "Perhaps I might play for you after dinner."

"Charles," I interrupted, because while I would let him ask certain questions, I would not let him parade himself for unwitting guests: a short piano concert from Charles could create the position of being in a captive audience for hours on end. He conceded and did not press the issue.

"Does your friend teach piano, too?" he asked.

"No," she said, "she helps teach ballet. We met in dancing school."

"Are you a ballerina, too?"

"No," she laughed, "I am much more suited to the piano."

"Me, too," he said, and turned back to his dinner. The conversation moved onto the topic of music, and then to a new series of paintings at one of the museums. I made a note to visit sometime soon; painting was not something I appreciated nearly often enough.

I kept worrying Charles might catch Angelique looking at his mask, as she was obviously curious, but he was either so equally curious about the new visitor or so used to people glancing at him that it did not provoke him, and things ended peacefully. I turned Charles to bed, instructing him to hang his jacket neatly, as Grandfather would be coming to dinner the next night, and didn't want to think why a devilish light came to his eyes at the reminder.