Chapter Fifteen: Confidence in Confidantes

Like proper, diligent escorts, Nicolas and Lumière were waiting patiently outside the millinery for the ladies to rejoin them. At seeing the girls, both their eyes alighted on Bernadette.

"The first purchase of the day!" Nicolas announced. "No longer is the term 'shopping' merely a euphemism for us." He bowed politely. "Merci, Bernadette. You look very charming."

Bernadette bobbed a sweet curtsey. "Thank you, monsieur, but the credit must go to mademoiselle and her generosity."

"Indeed?" Nicolas uttered with a dimpled grin in Babette's direction.

"My compliments to them both," Lumière joked to the viscountess. She consented to give him a small, lukewarm nod in return.

As he drew up next to Bernadette and continued their promenading, he murmured to her, "I had not known prior to this moment a hat could cause such an effective change in demeanor. You are positively radiant, mademoiselle."

"Merci, monsieur," she said, touching the bergère at its brim as though to make sure it was still there. She heaved an exalted sigh. "I feel so spoiled! I have never owned anything so lovely. Mademoiselle does me such a kindness, I do not even know if I deserve it!"

He couldn't help but find this prime example of her artlessness endearing. "I am sure she would not have done so otherwise."

She was quiet as they walked a few more feet toward Pont-au-Change before she spoke again, "I have often dreamed of what it was like to be a lady: to walk in her shoes, and wear her clothes, and attend her meetings and balls. And now!" Her broad grin was bright and sparkling. "Oh, she does not realize what she has given me. But I…" The corners of her mouth drooped. "I do not have the means to repay her."

Lumière glanced at the children that skirted through the throng and hurried away, their giggles full and lively. "You have been in her service for many years, oui?"

She nodded. "I was made her handmaiden at her debut."

"Then… perhaps this is her way of returning the favor." He smirked as he thought on it. "I imagine she was not the easiest mistress to supervise."

Bernadette smiled back. "For a long while, I believed I was one of the reasons she continually ran off into town. There was a time when she did not confide much of anything in me, right before she wen—was sent away."

Lumière peered down at her, but she was keeping her eyes forward. It seemed that she might be trying to withhold emotion, but he couldn't help but wonder if she had been checking herself.

"But she confides in you now, of course," he prompted.

With a happy nod, she replied, "She does… just as I am sure M. de Créquy has done with you, oui?"

Lumière chuckled. "Oh, yes, even when it would have been better to keep certain confidences secret from each other."

Bernadette attempted to hide her snicker behind her fingers. "Both of you have such a delightful friendship! Almost like close siblings."

He shrugged and conceded, "We did grow up together."

"Did you truly? From what age?"

"Nearly twenty years ago."

Her eyes widened in amazement. "My word, friends for that long! How enchanting!" She gave his arm a squeeze. "And inspiring."

Catching onto her meaning, he granted, "I suppose it must seem fantastic."

She slowly shook her head. "Not anymore."

He contemplated her for a moment. "Why do you say so?"

Bernadette pressed her lips together before she spoke with great consideration. "Both of you… have such admirable character, monsieur, that it is no longer a question on how you two… came to overlook your respective classes." She touched the brim of her bergère again. "Before I was placed under mademoiselle's charge, I had never dared any attempts to cross that boundary." Her smile to him was supremely content. "I suppose I am merely happy to see it is possible in more ways than one."

Lumière found his heart warmed by this sincere disclosure, and amicably covered the hand on his elbow.

"Lumière!"

He and Bernadette looked up to see Nicolas and Babette had gained more ground. They stood under a parfumerie's sign as Nicolas hailed them and the viscountess calmly waited by his side.

Lumière caught Babette's gaze, and in that fleeting instant, he saw something in her expression he could not ascertain, but it seemed to border between suspicion and unease.

With a bizarre twinge of shame, he removed his hand from Bernadette's as they traversed the rest of the distance. When they came within earshot, Lumière glanced up at the sign and remarked, "Ah, yes, we must not disappoint your mother."

In wholehearted agreement, Nicolas conveyed a look to him that reminded Lumière of the time they had forgotten. Neither wanted to repeat that particular string of guilt trips the countess would undoubtedly have unloaded on them again.

"Hopefully, we are not too long," the viscount said, glancing at the gaggle of ladies that trooped into the parfumerie together.

"Take your time!" his friend assured, and referred to the arm Bernadette held. "If mademoiselle is willing, we shall wait at the café we passed at the end of the bridge."

"That would be perfect!" Bernadette instantly replied, but then looked to Babette to check. "Would that be all right, miss?"

Babette hadn't been smiling until her maid had addressed her, and even then there was still a tension in her demeanor. "Of course, chérie."

With that settled, Nicolas allowed his fiancée to step ahead of him as he held the shop's door open. On the threshold, Babette checked over her shoulder to see her maid and the maître d' already back to their leisurely pace. She quickly turned toward the wave of mingled floral and woody scents that immediately greeted her, hoping that to Nicolas it had seemed only a passing glance.

As the door shut behind the betrothed pair, Bernadette also peeked behind herself to be sure before she said to Lumière, "Monsieur, I—"

"Before you say more," he interrupted with a crooked grin. "I insist you call me Lumière. No need for such formalities in private company, don't you agree?"

She condoned it with a smile, though her breathing fluttered. "I suppose you are right. In that case then, you may call me Bernadette."

"I will consider it a privilege," came his easy debonair response.

Under the shadow of the Palais de la Cité's ornate clock tower, they sat at one of the outdoor tables covered by the café's awning. Over the course of their walk in comfortable silence, Lumière had noticed a line slowly grow between Bernadette's dark, thin brows, and so offered to get her a drink. She was as polite as ever in her consent, but a slight tremble in her voice made him wonder. He fetched both of them glasses of chardonnay and allowed her to take her time sipping it as his gaze shifted between her and the passers-by.

She set her glass carefully on the table. "Mons—sorry," she stopped with a clearing of her throat. "Lumière… there is a particular question I must ask you, but it may sound impertinent at first—or altogether."

Lumière straightened in his seat at how self-conscious she seemed at his possibly taking offence. While trying to hide his mounting curiosity, he gave her a warm smile. "Chérie, to sound impertinent to my ears would take much more than what I am sure you have to say. You may ask me what you wish."

By a small smile, Bernadette showed she was mostly comforted, but still held some doubts. "This is a subject I could not broach in the presence of M. de Créquy and mademoiselle."

He stilled at her words, but quirked an inquiring eyebrow. "Does it concern them?"

She nervously pursed her lips, and silently nodded again.

He fingered the stem of his wine glass as his thoughts began to race. Fears arose and started to wrap around his pounding heart. Did she know about his attempts at sabotaging his friend's engagement? Did Babette know?

His eyes rested on Bernadette, who was watching him with bated breath. Whatever her intentions are, they must be out of concern for everyone, Lumière reasoned.

After a deep sigh to calm his stomach, he asked, "And what might your question be?"

She swept a stray hair behind her ear. "I understand that… you and M. de Créquy would do anything within your powers to ensure each other's happiness."

He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, though he refused to move another muscle. "Naturally."

Bernadette looked afraid to pursue it, but then said with a clear and calm voice, "With that in mind… do you have any concerns about his choice of bride?"

The question itself caused a spike of alarm to traverse his body, but by the manner she had spoken it, her words suggested no inference into betrayal.

He thought quickly and carefully on them besides. "Have you heard anything that would give rise to that assumption?"

She seemed sorry to say, "I have."

His brow furrowed. "From whom?"

She hesitated before dropping her shoulders in defeat. "Mlle Babette."

Lumière turned his eyes to the inside of his glass for stern contemplation, but she did not give him a chance to think.

"She told me about… working with you at the château."

Panic struck him at the idea of Bernadette knowing about their affair, and worse, Babette having told her, but because he did not initially react, he heard her add unassumingly, "That you had become friends while she was there."

Relief came out of him in a heavy sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose before he managed to look at her once more. "If she spoke of us as friends, why would there be a question about what I think of her?"

Bernadette didn't answer, but instead broke eye contact to stare into her wine.

That said it all.

His expression became grave. "She does not consider me a friend."

"I believe she should." She leaned forward to search his face, asking tentatively, "Do you have any objections with mademoiselle?"

He met her eyes. "Non. She makes Nicolas happy, and…" His heart contracted painfully as he spoke. "… clearly adores him, as he adores her. How could I have any objections when that is what matters most between husband and wife?"

"Then there should not be this estrangement!" she strongly declared. "I hate to see mademoiselle become stone whenever you address her. It is so unlike her to treat anyone that way."

He crossed his arms and slouched in his chair. "Then in her eyes, I must have committed something akin to treason."

Her eyes widened. "Did you?"

He hesitated, unable to prevent himself from becoming guarded. At this precise moment, some honesty was the best course, but how honest should he be?

However, Bernadette seemed to notice his discomfort. "Is it a very private matter?"

He managed to relax a little at being excused from answering her prior question. "Not… exactly," he said, mustering a half-hearted laugh. "The only word I would use to describe it is… complicated, however inadequate and overused it might be."

After a moment of thoughtful silence, she gathered her poise about her, and not only perched in her chair like a royal but spoke like one. "Well, I want to help you."

Lumière looked at her without perceiving her. "Pardon?"

She tilted her head, regarding him. "Do you want to be on friendly terms with mademoiselle again?"

Beginning to register her offer, he came to balance on the edge of his seat. "Y—yes, that is…" He grinned as though he was just seeing Bernadette for the first time. Excitement and consolation flooded him immediately. "That is precisely what I have been trying to reassure her of."

Bernadette mirrored him at this positive response as words he hadn't been able to speak to a soul flowed from him. "But no one outside of you and her family know that she was sent to du Lac rather than a convent. We were introduced to each other as strangers, and I said and betrayed nothing of it being otherwise. Besides, it is not my place to tell Nicolas that Babette and I have met before."

She blinked her big brown orbs at him. "You are on first-name terms with her?" she whispered with awe.

He grimaced at his slip. "Forgive me, I… I knew her first as Babette. None of the staff at the château were made aware of her true lineage."

"Oh! Of course," she agreed to, laughing at herself. "That makes a world of sense!"

She watched him for a moment as they both sipped at their wine. "I knew mademoiselle must have been exaggerating."

Lumière glanced over at her before he set his glass down. "About me?"

"Yes," she confirmed with a sympathizing frown. "It is as though she has been trying to make sure I do not think too highly of you."

Disappointed, he shook his head. "The lengths she has taken to ensure I am not trusted, sadly… do not surprise me." He leaned his chin on a contemplative hand. "What made you believe she was exaggerating?"

"I have heard testimony in your favor. You remember Marion?"

"Marion?" He narrowed his eyes, unsure. "Not from the tavern…"

"Oui, the very same!" she said, beaming. "She has given you very high praise, especially when her other customers were nothing but rude that day."

"Is she a friend of yours?"

"Ma cousine, but we have always been close."

His countenance brightened. "Ah, mais oui! Now I see the resemblance. Well, I am only ever too happy to cheer her. She is a marvelous hostess."

Bernadette's eyes sparkled cleverly as she added, "She has also mentioned how well you tip."

"Only what I can afford," he dismissed with a shrug of his shoulder, and said sincerely, "But she deserves every sou."

"You see? The person mademoiselle described to me would not be so generous nor so humble." Bernadette took a moment to think on it. "Whatever may have occurred between you two… perhaps it was a misunderstanding."

"It would certainly not be the first time," he dryly replied before finishing off his wine and inquiring, "Did you perchance have any suggestions on how to appeal me to mademoiselle?"

"Not quite. Whenever I have mentioned giving you the benefit of the doubt, she refuses to listen."

He released a slow breath. "I thought it might come to that."

Bernadette leaned on the table when he became pensive. "Monsieur?"

Still lost in thought, he looked at her, which unintentionally caused her to catch herself. She corrected her small lapse. "Lumière."

He tapped a quick rhythm on the metal arm of his chair. "I must plead my case to her personally. Alone."

Concern crossed her features. "She has asked me to make certain you are not left alone with her."

He covered her hand reassuringly. "And I would not ask you to completely disregard her wishes. At least… not until the precise moment."

"Are you thinking of a plan?"

A corner of Lumière's mouth lifted as he saw her anticipation. "Not necessarily. It is too difficult to plan in our current situation. We must be as impromptu as our time here. I only hope we have a chance before we depart Paris. Otherwise… I might never have the opportunity to apologize and have her believe me genuine."

"So it is a misunderstanding?"

He wavered for only a second before granting, "To a point, oui."

With some uncertainty, she offered, "Well, if we must be impromptu, I hope I am able to recognize when the time is right."

"Trust me," he assured, his tone full of lighthearted foreboding. "You will receive from me a signal difficult to ignore."

Without missing a beat, she said, "I trust you."

Lumière's smile grew as she confessed her confidence in him. He took her hand and kissed it. "Consider me entirely in your debt."

She tried to stifle the pleasure from showing in her grin, but he could tell she was extremely flattered by the gesture.

Then a glint of mischief lit his eyes. "But first…"

Not having perceived trouble, Bernadette innocently impelled him with a, "Yes?"

While casually crossing his legs, he said, "Allow me to ask you a similarly penetrating question, while we have another moment to spare by ourselves."

"Should I be worried?" she joked.

"Non. Not you, at least," he hinted at with a smirk. "I must admit, curiosity has been gnawing at me since yesterday to inquire into your past affairs."

She tilted her head like a fascinated puppy. "Past affairs?"

With effortless nonchalance, he elaborated, "Your previous suitors, lovers, gentlemen callers - whichever term you prefer."

Bernadette emitted a tinkling giggle, covering her burning cheeks. "Monsieur!"

"Oh, there is a string of broken hearts in your wake! Forgive me if I do not express much astonishment."

Not seeming to hear the latter end of his declaration, she fervently assured, "Non, non, not at all! There are no… suitors to speak of." Her face flushed more deeply, which made her laugh again and mumble, "Parbleu, how mortifying!"

"I understand if you do not wish to name them in public, chérie," he continued with the most irritating ease. "When a number of ears are listening, it is more conscientious to spare both parties face."

Her jaw dangled in shock at this brashness before she resolutely decided, "You are a far more relentless tease than I previously gave you credit for."

He offered her an impenitent shrug. "I am afraid it is my greatest weakness. But please, do not keep me in suspense! We shall begin with a number—or were you planning on making me guess?"

"Lumière, as I said, I have not had any—"

"Seven."

Bernadette's jaw dropped again. "Seven?"

His instinct to laugh almost overwhelmed him, but he managed to placate himself in his endeavor to remain businesslike. "Ten."

A tiny gasp escaped her. She glanced around at those sitting nearby to make sure they were not as appalled as she felt. "Monsieur, what kind of woman do you think I am?"

"It cannot be more than fifteen."

"Lumière, please!" she hissed. "Lower your voice!"

Delighted at this commanding side of the sweet and petite maid, Lumière was induced to respond with, "Of course, how barbarous of me! We must consider the feelings of the poor messieurs still nursing their shattered hearts. I assure you, I will be a paragon of discretion."

It took a minute or so for Bernadette to arise from her fit of laughter. "Lumière, I entreat you, spare me any more of this nonsense!"

After heaving a lengthy sigh, he said, "As you wish, mademoiselle. But, to be perfectly honest, I find it very hard to believe that there are no men you could say have fallen in love with you. They all must have been too meek to approach in fear of refusal."

"Whether that was ever the case, I could not say," she said, fidgeting with the draw string of her reticule. "But… if you must know, I have only suffered one case of unrequited love, and it was rather mild."

"Oh? And who was the unworthy monsieur?"

Bernadette chided him with a look. "He is very worthy, in fact. I would even say eligible, for someone of our station."

And so began Lumière's strand of casual probing. "Did he work with you?"

"Oui. He still does," she informed. "At the time he was only a footman, but now he is the majordomo. An exceptional one, too!"

"He must be intelligent."

"Oh, very!" she instantly replied. "There is hardly a question I could ask him and he not know the answer."

"And his manners?"

"Genteel. Though like you, he likes to tease." She smirked at him. "But not nearly as cruelly!"

"His name?"

"Henri."

"Henri," he repeated under his breath, mulling it over. "Is he attractive?"

Bernadette's blush was renewed only slightly, but she remained composed. "I would say so. And mademoiselle has agreed with me."

Lumière's eyebrows shot up, finding this a riveting point. "Has she? From what I recall, her taste is rather exclusive. He must be very handsome indeed!"

Awkwardness crept into her posture. "He is not… an Adonis, or… classically handsome, I suppose. But everything else about his character, what I think really matters, recommends him." Her eyes met his, and she could not withhold inquiring, "What might you know about mademoiselle's taste in men?"

A reminiscent smirk crept onto his lips. "A great many things, chérie. We have discussed it in detail."

"Have you!"

She clearly found this information delightfully salacious but did not want to so obviously give herself away. Lumière's smile spread as he watched her articulate her question. "Would you… happen to know, then… if M. de Créquy is… indeed, to her usual taste?"

"Admittedly, he is not," he calmly answered. "But I believe it is for the better."

She nodded, following. "I am glad to hear it."

Having to snap himself out of his retrospections, he reverted to her again as a subject. "So this Henri no longer holds himself in your interest?"

Bernadette eyed him askance. "Why are you so keen to know?"

Without hesitation, he smoothly replied, "I find that to ask about past relationships is the truest way to understanding a person's character. Not that yours was ever in question!" he made sure to say. "In your case, I simply found my curiosity could not be abated. You could not be as innocent as you appeared!" He shrugged as she laughed at his statement. "You have proven me wrong! So to you, I willingly submit."

"Well… to further stem your curiosity," she said with precision. "I will have you know Henri is merely a friend, and no more."

He inclined his head to her, his eyes twinkling. "Then I have no further questions."

One step out of the parfumerie and Babette gratefully filled her lungs with the city air. Though it wasn't nearly as finely scented, it at least didn't oppress her sense of smell. The dull headache that had begun from overexposure to essences from China, India, the Mediterranean—and she knew not where else—was finally subsiding.

Nicolas chuckled at her obvious relief. "I am sorry for forcing you through that. Normally, our visits in there are not so tedious, even when my mother is with us."

She waved away the apology. "I would much sooner blame those ridiculous girls who were helped before us, along with that shopkeeper. He did not need to entertain every single one of their questions."

"He must have seen a significant sale in them, trying to take advantage of their ignorance—and their 'purses full-to-bursting,'" he quoted with amusement.

Babette scoffed, shaking her head. "I wonder how their mothers and fathers could release them on the streets in that way, especially in a city that preys on such naïveté. The poor creatures."

He playfully nudged her. "He certainly couldn't trick you."

She mirrored his dimpled smile as she took his arm. "Unfortunately for him, I am too determined not to be tricked to allow for it ever to be a possibility."

They continued to meander with the throng. Chatter surrounded them on all sides as the whites and pastel colors of the pedestrians seemed to crowd them. Babette took to walking more closely to Nicolas, eyeing the passing crowds and their vapid airs with distrust. Shifting the delicately wrapped package to under his arm, he covered her hand with his. A flutter occurred in her chest, and she peeked a glance at him. He caught her looking, grinned, and shyly turned his eyes forward. She lightly squeezed his arm. His presence alone was enough comfort in swarming, public places like this.

At the end of the bridge, and line of shops, the masses were thankfully more dispersed, and so they were able to find their friends sitting at the café in animated discussion.

Babette tried to curb her apprehension. At least Bernadette is enjoying herself.

Her maid spotted them first and waved them over. "There you are! We were only just wondering where you might have gone off to!"

Nicolas exchanged a humorous look with Babette as they sat down across from them. "We… did not go off anywhere else."

Bernadette's jaw dropped as Lumière smirked knowingly. "Was it the same parfumeur as before?" he checked.

"Oui," Nicolas confirmed. "And he clearly cannot keep an apprentice."

"It is no small wonder," Babette muttered, and Lumière's smile grew by the tiniest measure.

"What a pity to have to wait so long!" Bernadette remarked emphatically as she looked at the one package Nicolas had set on the table. "And this was all you needed to purchase?"

"For dear Maman," Nicolas said with a grin. "I will be regaling her with that story in detail the next time I'm in desperate need of a favor."

"Has he become senile?" Lumière asked, half-jokingly.

"Not quite," Nicolas replied, having to smile a little. "Our delay can be credited to five indecisive mesdemoiselles."

Lumière laughed. "My condolences!"

"That is a shame," Bernadette agreed. "You would think a good shopkeeper would prevent long waits for their customers."

"Absolutely!" Nicolas concurred. "But this particular shopkeeper is too fixated on the prospects of a great sale to take that into consideration. It is a shame he makes such a fine product, else I would have taken my business elsewhere, as Babette kept suggesting," he added with a wry look in her direction.

"My patience can be tried," she proudly defended, "but not by those who are negligent to the people outside of themselves. Why no one has taught them better will remain a mystery to me," she said with pity.

"If only all of nobility had been blessed with guardians like ours," Lumière noted with teasing fancy. "Would not the world be a much more intelligent place?"

"Full of respect to others," Babette supplied, a slight sardonic smile on her lips.

"And an abundance of common sense!" Nicolas contributed.

Lumière contemplated his friend. "That may give us a deal too much credit, mon ami, but I will allow it in favor of mademoiselle," he said with a gesture to Babette, who quirked a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"You speak soundly, frère," Nicolas replied with an equal amount of mock-seriousness, and his fiancée shook her head, passing a hand over her own mouth to hide the oncoming of a smile.

The maître d' then threw up his hands. "Alas! The world chooses to dash our hopes with girls easily swindled by a monsieur scrounging for their purses… C'est la vie!"

"And to that… I'd like a drink," Nicolas concluded as he stood to fetch refreshments.

The safety Babette always felt while her betrothed was around faltered as he briskly walked inside the café. Even though Bernadette was present, being left alone with her and Lumière just seemed… disconcerting. Those two had been granted so much time to themselves, Lumière must have taken advantage of some of it, right? To gain more ground, to speak more personally and intimately with Bernadette.

But Babette only found herself confused at the idea. Bernadette was not the kind of girl to encourage approach, nor was she even the type Lumière was fond of pursuing, yet they appeared to be perfectly comfortable with each other.

I must have missed something, Babette thought anxiously. Whatever it was though, she did not like it, or its implications.

Normally in such circumstances, Lumière took it upon himself to initiate some conversation to abate the awkward air, but unfortunately—and to his extreme chagrin—he was tongue-tied. After such an open discussion with Bernadette—at least, as open as it could be in this debilitating situation—it was positively crippling to suddenly be unable to speak even trifles. He wracked his brain for anything to start with that didn't want to make him cringe from the cliché of it, but Babette's penetrating gaze was making it difficult to focus.

Luckily, with her new sense of awareness, Bernadette had her wits about her for the both of them. She eagerly addressed her mistress, "Did you purchase anything for yourself?"

Babette tore her ice-blue eyes from Lumière, who couldn't help but feel some relief, and landed on her maid. Her features softened as she shook her head.

"And why not?" Bernadette asked like a chiding older sister.

This tugged at a corner of Babette's mouth as she detached the reticule from her wrist. "Why else does one not buy something? I did not want to, nor did I need to."

"Ma—Babette," she said with fervor. "We are in Paris of all places! Should we not take advantage of what it offers?"

Babette had to laugh. "Of course, chérie, but my idea of 'taking advantage' of Paris does not include shopping. I much prefer experiences to merchandise."

Bernadette narrowed her eyes as she crossed her arms. "As long as there is not another reason."

Lumière watched Bernadette warily. It appeared as though she were angling to elicit a certain response from her mistress, but he didn't see how his presence was at all welcome in this discussion. He glanced over his shoulder in hopes of Nicolas' return.

Babette mimicked the maître d', but she was also thwarted. She gave her maid a wry glance, trying to take this in stride. "I wonder, ma chère, why I am being censured at all, and in public no less."

"Because you should be enjoying yourself, and it is never too soon to be told so," Bernadette stated succinctly.

Baffled, Babette countered with some indignance, "And what would even suggest such a thing? I am enjoying myself immensely!"

"Are you?" Bernadette opposed. "We were of a mind that there was something keeping you from truly reveling in our time here. Is that not so, Lumière?"

After a double-take, the man in question met the expectant gaze of the maid with brow furrowed, all the while feeling rather potently the heated stare of the lady across from him. Is this her idea of help? he wondered incredulously.

Clearing his throat, he rose from his chair, fidgeting with his cravat as he tried to say as casually as possible, "I will see if Nicolas needs my assistance with the drinks."

"Wait, monsieur," Babette imposed without hesitation. Her tone was polite enough, but notes as cold as sleet could not be disguised from him. "I really must inquire about what prompted this opinion of yours."

The accusation his former paramour chose to imbue in her words and eyes cornered him, at a loss on what to say. Still standing, but now with his heart pounding, he dropped his gaze to see Bernadette briefly in his peripherals. She was calm and confident, appearing to expect him to know how he should respond to this contrived allegation.

The only answer he could figure was to play along… without digging a deeper hole for himself.

Meeting her stare once again, he said quietly, "I did not mean to insinuate any fault in your recent conduct, mademoiselle. In either case, it was not my place to say… and I sincerely apologize for speaking out of turn."

From her expression, Babette felt the weight of truth in his address, and understood to what he truly referred to. Whether she accepted either was less certain, for his statement caused her to become quiet with contemplation.

Bernadette, on the other hand, was biting her lip to hide a smile of triumph that luckily her mistress was too distracted to notice.

Lumière did, however, and not without a look of faint reproof. Again, he tried to hurry to his friend, but upon turning, he saw Nicolas already coming out with a tray of glasses for them. Snapping out of his somber mindset, he had to smile at the appearance of his friend as a waiter.

"And what is this establishment about, allowing a mere vicomte like you to handle glassware?" Lumière scolded, feigning an attempt to swipe the tray from Nicolas as he approached.

Nicolas smoothly avoided the maître d's grasp, the skin around his eyes crinkling though his voice sounded stern. "Contrary to popular belief, viscounts are able to carry their own food and drink." A droll smile played on his boyish mouth as he cleverly added, "Most of the time, we simply choose not to."

"So you would have all your staff believe, I am sure!"

As he spoke, Lumière checked Babette. Unsurprisingly, she had already composed herself in time for Nicolas to not wonder about anything amiss.

"But you cannot fool me," he continued, resuming his seat. "You secretly enjoy the toils of our servitude while your derriere remains firmly fixed on a comfortable chaise."

Nicolas had to laugh at this crude description. "Perhaps that is true for the general populace, and of human nature as a whole, but you will not—as you well know—find I portray even remotely that sort of perspective."

"Did you listen well?" Lumière directed to the girls. "He spoke for your ears alone!"

Nicolas had been setting the tray on the table as his friend was speaking, and as he rose, his hand deftly knocked the side of Lumière's head like it had been in passing.

Lumière gripped the area of reprimand. "Ow," he muttered with a penalizing yet somewhat reverent glare in Nicolas' direction. Babette wore a one-sided smirk and Bernadette giggled as Nicolas expunged a noble apology of questionable sincerity.

Along with glasses of chilled lemonade, there were samples of strawberry and peach confiture alongside a sliced baguette and two small clear bowls of orange glace.

"For the ladies," Nicolas informed with an effortlessly charming smile that both women found contagious—Babette especially. Lumière noticed her admiring attention lasted as they professed their thanks and delicately began savoring every bite.

"Tell me honestly," he said to Nicolas after a refreshing sip of his drink. "Did you have to beg to carry this tray out on your own?"

"I did not stoop so low," Nicolas scoffed in reply before calmly shrugging. "I paid him instead."

The three others laughed at the endearing absurdity of such an action, yet neither Babette nor Lumière were surprised by it in the slightest. Their mutual amusement caused a discreet glance to be exchanged between them. Contrary to expectation, Babette did not look away immediately, not until she began to prod Nicolas on the amount of payment to the lucky attendee in the café.

From her look, Lumière could tell she was still wary toward him, but she no longer seemed hostile. That was not much to go off of, for he dared not to assume any change caused by Bernadette's curious and purposeful faux-pas. He only hoped there would more opportunity for progress in reconciling himself to her. And soon.