Can I take your hand?
Do you understand?
You found my heart broken
And you helped me make it whole


He kissed my hand…

The introductions to all the guests had passed by in a haze for Cosette. She nodded, curtsied, smiled politely, and exchanged pleasantries. But the only things her mind could register were Enjolras' hand at the small of her back, the warmth of his shoulder bumping into hers as he shook hands with each gentleman, the tickle of his breath against her ear as he'd lean in and share a quip or some trivial information regarding whomever they'd just welcomed.
The man hardly acknowledged I was alive the last week and now, all of a sudden, he's acting as if we were…well, married.
It was only after they had all been seated for dinner that she realized she couldn't remember a single name of anyone she had greeted.

The dinner was moving along splendidly. Cosette was glad she'd convinced Alphonse to order new uniforms for the servants. They all looked brilliant in their new attire. And the cook had outdone herself with the delicious seven course meal. Cosette had accompanied her to town the day before to grab fresh produce and meat from the market. The groundskeeper had been tending to an assortment of white lilies for the occasion and they made for beautiful centerpieces on the table, bright and sweet-smelling as they spilled out of their vases.
But as pleased as she was with the results, Cosette found that it was much easier to plan the event than it was to participate in it.
Guillaume, who seemed to be entirely comfortable with large groups of people, had been encouraging lively conversation all throughout the night. Cosette couldn't be more grateful for the sociable man.

She, herself, was still reeling from the change in her husband's affectations.
She eyed Enjolras out of the corner of her eye as he conversed with a gentleman sitting on his other side, some old university professor of his.
He had told her she looked spectacular, had tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow…
How was she to make sense of this odd behavior, especially after he'd barely spoken to her the last few days before the party? Who was this laid back, easy-going man to whom physical affection was suddenly no longer a belligerent pain?
Enjolras shifted in his seat as he reached for his wine glass, his knee knocking against hers under the table.

"Oop. Sorry, love." He patted her arm and turned back to the professor on his right.

Good heavens. At this rate, he'd touched her more in the last hour than in the entirety of their marriage.


Dearest papá. I wish you were here.
There are so many people and they come from such different backgrounds than I.
How am I supposed to know what to do or say?
He fits so well in this world, and I…
I can dress the part but I'm afraid I'll never truly belong.

Papá, you taught me a great many things. How to be generous and kind and good.
But you did not train me for this.
How to host high society, how to curtsy to men and women of various titles, which champagne pairs well with dessert, how to hold conversation with women twice my age…


The gentlemen had retired to the parlor room after dinner while Cosette had given the ladies a tour of the estate. When they'd finished back at the sitting room, Alphonse had announced that the musicians were set up and ready to receive everyone in the ballroom.

"Would you like me to call the men?" He'd asked. But she was desperate for a chance to escape the scrutiny and mundane small talk of the older women, and so, offered herself for the task.

Cosette walked alone through the dark hallway that led to the parlor room, her footsteps echoing on the veined, marble floor. She had a particular fondness for this hallway, with its vast tapestries depicting hunting parties and wars of ages past. She traced the woven patterns of the tired thread, her thoughts returning to the women she'd left behind.
She'd hoped for at least one person with whom to find a semblance of kinship. Someone with a kind, motherly eye or warm disposition. But the wives of these noblemen provided no such solace. Instead, she had to endure their inquiries and stiff politeness, doing her best to ignore their judging glances and whispering.

They can see right through me.

She missed papá. She wished for his comforting embrace; the longing so strong, she felt it might suffocate her.

There was another ache as well, one rarely felt because it had become as much a part of her as anything.
Tonight it chose to surface.

Fantine…

She yearned for the mother she never got to know.


Enjolras' voice was the first thing her ears picked up on as she approached the room. Lingering near the entrance, Cosette's gaze landed on the blond man who spoke with impassioned speech to a captive audience. Eyes blazing, voice booming with authority, his words seemed to electrify the very air in the room. She stood transfixed as he shared his ideals with the men who had gathered to hear him.
At first, she worried he was usurping the conversation, but then she studied the expressions around the group and saw men intrigued, perplexed, some perhaps even skeptical, but none seemed impatient or annoyed. They peppered Enjolras with questions and she wondered how it was possible to think so quicky on one's feet the way he did. Knowledge and ideas spilled out of him and she felt she could sit and listen forever.
How long she'd been standing there, she had no idea. Her feet were cemented to the ground, her ears soaking up every fiery word coming from her husband's mouth.

"It seems you've made a hungry student of your wife, Enjolras." An older gentleman commented, noticing Cosette in the doorway.

She struggled not to shy away from the heads that turned to look her way.

This is my party. These are my guests, she reminded herself. Noblemen's wives don't get intimidated.

"If only my students were half as beautiful." Enjolras' university professor remarked. She knew he'd only meant to complement her, but the comment still stung. How many times had she jealously craved the sort of education Enjolras and Marius had left behind for their precious revolution?

"If you'd allow women into your colleges then that would not be a problem, professor." Cosette countered. The men mumbled amongst themselves.

"She has a point, gentlemen." The professor acknowledged. "If we had women in our colleges, then perhaps I'd actually enjoy coming to work."

The room erupted in hearty laughter. She caught Enjolras' eye then. He stood staring at her, the corner of his mouth lifted in what was almost a smile. As if he were proud of his wife's shrewd reply.

Or perhaps she was misreading his expression entirely. She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the men.

"I hate to interrupt your revelry, gentlemen," She said with a small curtsy, "but I was sent to invite you all to the ballroom."

"Oh, but we were just about to get into a juicy debate." A man grumbled.

"Perhaps another time, Rémy." Enjolras offered, stepping into the crowd. "Now I must do as my wife commands." She couldn't help the way her heart fluttered at those words.

"A smart man." The professor chuckled, patting Enjolras on the shoulder. He turned again to Cosette. "A smart man who married a smart woman. Is it true, Madame, that you review all your husband's work?"

Cosette blinked, taken aback by the question.

"Your husband mentioned that you are quite the editor." The old man added. Enjolras stiffened beside him, the expression on his face oddly shy.

He'd talked about her? And not just that, but he'd praised her behind her back?

"I-I do my best." She managed to respond.

"I've been working on a thesis this last year. I'd love for you to review it sometime." Said the professor.

Another man stepped forward. "And I have a few manuscripts I've been working on. Perhaps you could take a look at them for me?"

She licked her lips, trying to find her voice.

"Yes." She smiled. "Yes, I would love to." The professor returned her smile, his face kind.

"Alright, men." He waved a hand to the group. "We have been summoned."

"Our women await us!" Rémy exclaimed.

"To the ballroom!" Another man cried with fist raised as the gentlemen began exiting the room.

Cosette waited by the door until the room emptied out.

"Looks like I may have found you a new career." Enjolras surmised, appearing beside her. He seemed in better spirits than she'd ever seen him. Perhaps it had something to do with the comradery of the men who had just occupied the room. Enjolras seemed at his best when he was leading a charge.

She tried to quiet the fluttering in her stomach, but it was a hard thing to accomplish when he was grinning out of the corner of his mouth like that.

"Do you think I should charge by the hour or per manuscript?" She managed to tease.

"For the professor or me?"

"The professor, of course. You couldn't afford me."

He let out a laugh. "Oh, couldn't I?"

"I am in high demand now."

He glanced down, pinching a piece of fabric from her gown and rubbing the silk material between his fingers.

"Perhaps I should've kept your talents a secret." His gaze lifted to hers, his eyes depthless and dark in the emptied room. "Then I wouldn't have to share you with anyone else."

Just like that, the levity of their conversation was gone. Any retort Cosette may have had died on her lips as he took a small step closer.
She sucked in a quiet breath, trying to calm her stammering heart. He was so close, she could catch that signature scent of his she'd come to love: a mixture of crisp citrus and earthy cardamom. A scent both comforting and alluring.
His gaze drifted to her mouth and she dared to hope…

"Monsieur Enjolras?" A voice called from out in the hallway, followed by the echo of footsteps. "Madame?"

She recognized the voice as Alphonse's. Enjolras stiffened.

"We should get back to our guests." He whispered to her.

"Must we?" She whispered back, wondering if he could hear just how loudly her heart was beating in the quiet of the room.

His eyes roamed over her, an unreadable expression flashing across his features. He took a step back, running a hand through his curls.
The fluttering wings of hope stilled inside her.

He gestured to the door. "After you." He said with a solemn bow.

She swallowed down her disappointment, her nerves still afire from their previous proximity. She willed herself to walk away without turning around to see if he would follow.

"There you are, Madame," Alphonse greeted her.

"Thank you for fetching me, Alphonse."

"Will Monsieur Enjolras be joining us?" He lifted a brow in subtle inquiry.

"In a bit."

So what if he hadn't kissed me, she consoled herself. There was still the dance to look forward to.
With renewed fervor, she took Alphonse's elbow and strode towards the ballroom.