Chapter Sixteen: Keeping Cards Close

It was sunset when they all returned to their residence on rue Saint-Antoine. In moderately good moods but drained of energy, none stayed for a nightcap in the salon for too long. After an exchange of well wishes for a good night's sleep, the ladies and gentlemen went their separate ways upstairs.

Lumière was just shutting his curtains when a knocking so soft he thought he had mistaken the sound was heard from his door. Heaving an exasperated sigh, he went to politely shoo Marc away until morning.

Upon opening his door, he blinked at his visitor. "Bernadette?"

With a shy smile, the maid bobbed a curtsey. "Bonsoir, Lumière. Did I wake you?"

At her look of worry, he came out of his surprise to shake his head and reassure, "Not at all!" Though having discarded his jacket and waistcoat, he was glad at that moment to be still clothed in his tunic and trousers for the lady's sake.

Knitting his brow in curiosity, he leaned his shoulder on the doorframe. "How may I serve?"

Nervously, she glanced around at Nicolas' door and the staircase, which made Lumière quirk an eyebrow. To him, she anxiously whispered, "May I speak with you in private? I promise it will not take long."

He hesitated before answering, only because this was not the first time a young mademoiselle had come to his room at night saying those precise words. Of course, those girls had hoped for a continuation of prior amorous activity. That certainly couldn't be the case here… though he couldn't prevent the thought from striking him.

But no, this was sweet, little Bernadette!

So then… what was it?

It was his turn to look concerned. "Is everything all right?"

Her eyes widened as she fervently nodded. "Oui, it is! But I must speak with you."

Due to Nicolas' insinuations, Babette's suspicions, and Marc's infatuation, none of them could catch Bernadette entering his chambers at this hour without some serious explanation, the kind that neither of them could divulge without sacrificing all of their secrets.

Lumière also eyed the gallery and listened closely for movement anywhere nearby. Hearing and seeing no one else, he opened his door wide enough for her to slip in before promptly closing it and quietly releasing the knob.

Bernadette wandered a little into the room, fidgeting with her pinky finger before facing him. "I feel I should apologize."

Though confused at her statement, he had to grin, certain this was for something small. "Whatever for?"

"I placed you in a rather compromising position at the café." When he didn't immediately speak, she looked expectantly to him. "Did I not?"

"Well…" he began, wanting to rectify her as gently as possible. "It did catch me by surprise, but it was nothing I could not handle—as you witnessed!"

His assuring smile didn't abate her doubt. She threw her hands up in frustration. "I thought I was being clever in my questioning! All I meant to do was…"

Clearly flustered, she had to take a moment to compose herself. "I thought that if she could see you humble yourself for her, even by a little, that would be of some help." She plopped onto a chaise in the center of the room with a self-deprecating pout. "But I must have only embarrassed you!"

Lumière was trying to prevent his smirk from spreading. "Believe me when I say I have put myself in many more embarrassing situations, including with mademoiselle. You, chérie, have nothing to worry about. My pride is still very much intact. Besides… the attempt was not completely in vain. I believe it made an impression on her, however minute."

Bernadette beamed with relief. "Oh, I'm so glad!"

"But," he had to delicately add as he took the armchair across from her. "If you could permit me to say so… perhaps we can practice more discretion in our methods."

She answered with a vigorous nod. "Of course! I have not the experience to tamper in your relationship with mademoiselle. Since it is entirely your business to deal with, you will surely know how best to go about it. I will merely be the willing accomplice!"

Having been saved the trouble of explaining all of that to her himself, Lumière smiled at her words. He was about to restate his gratitude, but was stopped by another round of soft knocks on his door.

Both immediately lined their sights on it, and a jolt suddenly went through Lumière's body. He jumped to his feet.

Bernadette eyed him with interest. "Lumière, who could that—?"

He halted her with a hand, a finger at his lips in an instant, but it was his piercing expression that drove her to silence.

"It's Marc," he whispered with dread.

"Marc?" she repeated, baffled at the notion. "But why on earth would he—?"

Knock-knock-knock-knock.

"You must hide," Lumière urged, taking her arm at the elbow. "Quickly! Erm…" His gaze swept the room. "Ah! Here, behind the curtains," he instructed, dragging her forward.

"But Lumière!" she breathed, her curiosity getting the best of her. "How do you know it is—?"

"Please, chérie,"he entreated as he placed her against the window. "Quiet as mouse!" And he shut the heavy curtains on her.

Skidding to a halt at his door, he took a breath to regather himself before cracking open the door to see the young servant pacing.

"Allo, Marc," he greeted with a convincing yawn. "I did not expect you to visit tonight after all."

Marc immediately spun around at the maître d's voice, his face contorting with remorse. "I know, and I apologize," he replied. "I tried to spare you my prattling but… I could not fall asleep! Could you… regale me, even a little, about today? Of how she was?"

The footman gripped the door frame in hope of entry, but Lumière made sure to stand firm. At Marc's earnestness, he remarked, "You are in a worst state than I had guessed, mon ami."

"It is pitiful, isn't it?" Marc concurred, hanging his head with a sigh. "It really is what they say, Lumière: A malady. A madness!"

Despite Marc's zeal, Lumière hid his desire to grin inside a grimace. "I am sorry to disappoint, but I cannot lavish you with every detail at this hour," the maître d' seemed to regret admitting. "However…" he went on, clasping Marc's shoulder as an excuse to lean out of his room and prevent his words from reaching a certain maid's ears. "I can assure you she is as untouched as a Diana."

The gears in Marc's mind cranked as he processed this. "Do you mean…?"

Lumière wore a wry smile. "To my great disbelief, she is quite innocent in the ways of love."

Marc's mouth shaped into a perfect "O," his eyes doubling in size. "You asked her—and she told you?"

"Ssh-ssh-ssh," Lumière reminded, warily glancing around the vestibule again. "Yes, precisely."

"But how?"

"I like to think I have a gift in the art of persuasion," he explained with some finesse, his signature smirk on display. "You simply have not known me long enough to be familiar with my methods."

His eyes narrowing, Marc placed his hands on his hips in an attempt to look formidable. "What kind of methods are you referring to, Lumière?"

"Now, do not take that tone," the maître d' admonished. "As delightful as she is, my interests lie elsewhere."

There was a moment of serious consideration, but Marc crossed his arms with a shrug, seeming to barely accept that answer. "I would hope so."

Lumière chuckled, giving the footman a departing pat on the shoulder. "Bonne nuit, Marc."

Marc mustered a half-smile. "Good night."

As soon as he saw Marc's back, Lumière gratefully shut the door and released a tired sigh. "Dieu merci."

"Could I come out now?" came the polite, muffled voice from behind his curtains.

"Yes, chérie," he replied, rubbing his aching eyes. "Please do!"

With only a tiny bit of struggling to find the opening, Bernadette parted the curtains and closed them behind her before she addressed Lumière. "Was something the matter?"

He looked up at her from his own meditations. "With Marc? Non, he is… only curious about our city excursions."

"Oh!" The worry line between her eyes vanished, only to reappear as she said, "It is a shame he is unable to join us on our little trips." She regarded him with interest. "And he has been coming to you to ask about how they went?"

"As far as I know."

He saw his reply caused her to look away and for her bottom lip to slightly protrude. Could Marc's feelings possibly be reciprocated?

He raised an inquiring eyebrow at Bernadette, putting a new motive to action. "Has he not been doing the same with you?"

She reset her mouth and innocently shook her head as she resumed her seat on the chaise. "Non… Not quite."

Lumière appeared stupefied by this news. "Strange! I have been under the impression that you both have been getting along famously."

With a bittersweet smile, she answered, "In a way, we have been, but more recently he has seemed… more nervous to speak with me."

Oh, Marc… Lumière groaned inwardly. The young footman needed to not be so overwhelmed by his own feelings. This only made what he was trying to help Marc with more difficult for them both.

He amiably dismissed her words with a smile, rushing to sit beside her. "Oh, ma chère, do not pay him any mind! That has nothing to do with you! It is merely his… disposition."

"Disposition?" she echoed, her voice a mixture of confusion and hope.

"Exactement!" he replied, her response only confirming his thoughts. "Unlike myself, he does not have the natural ability of articulating himself clearly. You could say he is simply… modest or…"

Her shoulders visibly eased, and her eyes became big brown orbs. "Shy?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, like she had hit the nail on the head. "And surely you could afford him some allowance despite any of his timidity." He grinned knowingly at her. "In that regard, you and he are not so incredibly different, if I may say so."

She smiled back, a bit of blush reaching her cheeks. "Perhaps not. It is only that… he did not seem very shy the night we arrived."

"True… but," he patiently reminded, "you also must remember that since yesterday morning, you have been wearing the finery of a viscountess. Naturally, a man of his constitution—or of any constitution—would be intimidated by the sight of a beautiful woman so elegantly dressed."

Bernadette huffed in that adorably dismissive way of hers. She straightened her posture before she spoke. "I do not see why that is any reason to become intimidated!"

He playfully narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you mean to tell me you have never felt the same toward a rather handsome monsieur of noble birth? What about when you were first introduced to M. de Créquy?"

Based off her begrudging pout, he knew he had guessed correctly. She still argued, "But that was when I had never even spoken to M. de Créquy before! I do not feel quite so awestruck by him now."

"As it normally goes," Lumière confirmed. "But in similar circumstances, we men find we are completely at the mercy of women. When a mademoiselle walks into our midst, logic and rational thought evade us!"

Bernadette laughed at the emphasis he spoke with as she arranged her hands neatly on her lap. "Perhaps for certain ladies, like Mlle Babette—even though she never means to."

"I assure you, it happens to every lady! You are undoubtedly a dream made real for a man, just waiting to enter into your favor," he laced with inference.

She seemed to want to doubt his words, but the idea of it must have taken hold of her, for she asked, "Really?"

"Really," he said, sincere yet sly. "To that end, I believe you should give young Marc the benefit of the doubt."

Her smile widened. "I would be only happy to!"

She then stood, and Lumière followed suit. Before she made it to the door, she overcame her hesitation to inquire, "What would you say to me taking over as Marc's confidante? Perhaps I might spare you any more interruptions on your sleep."

The eagerness with which she spoke caused him to beam with victory. "Why, mademoiselle, what a marvelous notion! You have my blessing," he bestowed with open arms.

With a gracious curtsey, she said lightheartedly, "Merci, monsieur."

"Non, the thanks are all mine," he insisted in his theatrical way as he took her hand in both of his. "You do me a great service. I look forward to being incredibly well-rested!"

"Enjoy it on my behalf," she dictated with delighted regality.

"As you command," he murmured. He kissed the top of her hand before opening his door and handing her through it.

After a bandying of "bonnes nuits," he gratefully closed off the rest of the maison, swept a hand through his hair, and exhaled through a low whistle. Another night of this and he would sleep in the carriage.

The residents of Hôtel de Beauvais woke up to the sound of rain against their windowpanes.

"Of course," Babette remarked bitterly, watching the rapidly-falling droplets continue to obscure her view of the road below. "It's absurd to hope for three subsequent days of perfect weather, non?"

"I suppose that is asking too much," Bernadette agreed with a sympathizing smile, arranging her hair into a simple chignon from Babette's vanity.

Babette released an indignant sigh through her nose as she spun away from the window. "I refuse to remain locked up here for an entire day."

Bernadette watched her pace the room from the mirror. "I am sure we will not need to," the maid encouraged. "We are here to see the sights, oui?"

Babette looked to her with hope. "Do you have something in mind?"

The maid shifted on the bench to face her mistress with a hopeful smile. "If you all take a liking to it."

A few moments later, Babette glided into the salon brandishing the week's copy of Mercure de France in her hand. "Messieurs, shall we bestow our presence on le théâtre tonight?"

Lumière and Nicolas glanced up from their game of piquet, along with Bernadette, who was playing the onlooker.

Nicolas paused in his card dealing to grin at his fiancée and shrug happily. "I am all willingness if you are. Lumière?"

The maître d' regrettably took away his eyes from the ravishing vision of Babette, who was alight with coquettish excitement, to answer his friend. "Of course! If it is something light, all the better."

"That is precisely what I had in mind," Babette announced with a smile. "This play was just recently premiered by the Comédie-Italienne to rave reviews, called L'Épreuve."

Nicolas was eyeing the hand he was dealt carefully as he inquired, "Who is the playwright?"

Babette checked the gazette. "Pierre de Marivaux."

The vicomte nodded. "A man noted for his romantic comedies."

Lumière smirked as he aligned the cards in his hand. "So, very light indeed."

Babette sat in the armchair behind the footstool Bernadette was perched on, her gaze unwavering. "Do you object?"

"On the contrary!" he replied distractedly as he tried to count his cards. He felt her piercing eyes avert to the gazette on her lap, and relaxed. He focused on the game at hand. "Point of five," he said to his opponent.

Nicolas shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. "Nope."

Lumière narrowed his eyes at him, but then smirked with satisfaction. "I have two quints."

His friend's smile quickly reversed with a grunt. "To what?"

"One is to a queen, the other to a jack."

Nicolas wrote that down on the scoreboard, blowing air through his lips while Bernadette watched.

"Thirty points?" she read with wonder.

"The cheat," Nicolas muttered as he slapped the pencil onto the slate.

"How can I be cheating when I have no sets to claim?" Lumière reasoned with a chuckle.

"Good," Nicolas rebutted. "I'm glad!" He looked at his cards again. "I have a point of six and a trio of queens."

"Congratulations," Lumière said in a patronizing tone. "Nine points in your favor."

Nicolas just ignored him with a shake of his head as he wrote down his score. Bernadette turned to whisper to Babette, who was now regarding the action with interest. "Lumière won the last game eighty points ahead."

"And I plan to do it again!" Lumière announced with confidence, laying down a king of spades on the deep red felt of the table.

Nicolas raised his eyebrows in mock-surprise. "What, no aces up your sleeve?"

He shrugged. "I do not need aces to win a round."

Begrudgingly, Nicolas laid down the highest spade he had, which was only a queen. Lumière just smiled as he took that deal and set it on his side of the table.

The rest of their cards were dealt, and Nicolas had collected every deal but the first one, yet still came a point under. He avoided looking at Lumière's triumphant smirk.

Bernadette looked back at her mistress with an amused sparkle in her eye that Babette couldn't help but replicate.

Lumière's luck took a drastic turn, however, and Nicolas won the next few rounds with Lumière barely managing to accrue enough points to stay a moderately close second. It wasn't long before Nicolas became quietly confident and poised while Lumière continued shooting deadpan glares in his direction.

At their game's conclusion, Lumière threw his hands up in surrender, his jaw tight. "It is very apt for you to call me the cheat. I suppose it takes one to know one, eh, mon ami?"

Nicolas only calmly gathered the deck and wore a secret smile. "You are only acting vexed because there are ladies present."

This only furthered Lumière's indignation, more likely than not for the fact that Nicolas was right. Through his rebuttals, Nicolas only seemed to be humored by his old valet's attempt at insults, a feeling Babette shared. It was rare to see the maître d' so flustered by something so trivial, but she knew based on what both men have told her that they enjoyed baiting each other like school children. Only friends as close as these two could do so and remain on the best of terms.

Babette leaned forward to murmur in her maid's ear, "As though the theatre has come to us, non?"

Bernadette's hand shot to stifle the giggle that threatened to breach the surface.

After insisting, Lumière was granted more chances to get the better of Nicolas at cards, though the viscount had offered to play whist. Babette had politely declined in favor of reading near the fireplace while Bernadette continued her role as an entertained audience to the gentlemen. It wasn't until a couple more games had passed, and after Lumière had been soothed by some victories, that the bustling of work being done in the dining room and kitchen breached Lumière's ear.

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "Marc will be our fourth!"

Nicolas laid his cards face down before standing. "I will fetch him if Bernadette would be kind enough to finish our round for me."

Bernadette blinked up at him before smiling. "It would be my pleasure, monsieur."

Nicolas drew up his chair for her before having her seated. "There you are. Merci!" he acknowledged with an incline of his head.

Before Nicolas stepped past him, Lumière tried his best to ignore another imperceptible wink thrown his way, which caused a fleeting spike of irritation. He had to be sure to stop Nicolas from angling Bernadette toward him, for Marc's sake if not his own sanity.

He patiently watched Bernadette thoughtfully arrange the cards in her hand before prompting, "Have any cards to exchange?"

She glanced up in surprise. "Oh! Do I go first?"

"You are the elder, at least in this scenario," he informed with a one-sided smirk.

She smiled back before pursing her lips as she looked over her hand. "I must discard five?"

"At most, yes."

A moment later, she carefully plucked five cards from her hand and laid them aside faces down, taking up five more from the talon pile. Her posture straightened as her eyes glimmered at her new cards. Lumière did the same, having to be amused at how easily Bernadette's expression could be read.

"Point of four," he said.

She quirked a dignified eyebrow. "To what?"

He rubbed his chin to hide a creeping smile. "A king."

Bernadette shook her head. "Not good. Sequences?"

"Unfortunately not."

She bit her lip and shifted excitedly in her seat. "Sets?"

He eyed her with playful suspicion. "Only a trio."

A giggle became caught in her throat as she tried to remain serious. "Not good enough."

"Oh really?" Lumière said, leaning forward on the table. "Then please, enlighten me on why that is, mademoiselle."

"Well, first," Bernadette said with delight, "I have a point of five to an ace, a tierce, a trio of queens, and a quatorze…" She leaned forward to whisper triumphantly, "Of aces!"

As the maid laughed, Babette finally looked up from her novel to see Lumière collapse against the back of his chair in defeat as he clutched his heart in that melodramatic way of his. Their interplay was rendering her unable to focus on what was on its pages.

"Shall I toss my cards now and spare you the trouble?" he asked.

"Non, non!" she countered in earnest. "I want to see how well you manage against a hand carrying all of the aces."

He gawked as Bernadette suffered from another fit of giggles. "Have you not already been witness to enough of my defeats? But fine, as you wish!"

Babette observed them carefully, trying to discern to what extent this friendship of theirs had gone.

Lumière wasn't paying Babette any mind to make sure she was watching, so it wasn't for the benefit of Babette's jealousy—not that it would work like it had before; She was a woman betrothed, after all. But what were Bernadette's thoughts? Was something more than affection growing in her? She was acting so open and unreserved, a complete reversal from the shy, timid personality Babette knew her to be. After so little time, Lumière had gotten her to be entirely at ease around him.

How? She tried to refocus on her book, but the question kept cycling in her brain like a broken wheel.

As swiftly as she could, she set the book aside and stood to leave, but Bernadette caught her before she had made it around the chaise. "Mademoiselle?"

"Do not mind me," Babette replied as Lumière's gaze also fell on her. She felt heat begin to rise to her cheeks. "I'm stepping out for a bit of air, just in the courtyard."

She gave a curt nod and swept out of the salon before she could see either of them wonder if there was something wrong. Perhaps there was, but all she knew was that she had suddenly become hot sitting by the fire.

And that was the only reason she would allow herself to have.

Bernadette blinked at her mistress's abrupt departure, but despite her concern, breathed a shallow sigh and kept herself from pursuing. She returned her attention to the cards in her hand.

Lumière turned his eyes from the doorway when she laid down her first deal. He followed suit before tentatively saying in a hushed tone, "Bernadette, may I make a… slightly intrusive inquiry?"

She smirked at him as she collected the draw. "What do you wish to know?"

Distractedly, he lined his cards into a tiny deck and tapped it on the felt. "Would there be any reason, at least to your knowledge, for mademoiselle to… rebuff Nicolas?"

She was caught by the word. "Rebuff him? Non, not at all!" Continuing with the motions of the game, she soon pursed her lips in thought. "However… from what I have observed, she seems… quite nervous about their engagement."

He furrowed his brow. "She has no reason to be. Everything about a marriage to Nicolas is advantageous."

"I would think so, too," she said before mustering a helpless shrug. "I am not sure why she feels that way. She refrains from speaking much about her feelings on the subject—or any near it for that matter," she ended on a defeated note.

Babette has told her nothing? Lumière considered heavily. He couldn't help but be disappointed.

Yet, as his mind whirred, he soon realized that though Babette should have Nicolas, Bernadette, and her parents to confide in, none of them knew the entire truth about her. She did not truly have a confidant. She was carrying the burden of all her secrets alone, and she had so many to keep track of.

Understandably, Nicolas couldn't be told everything due to her initial lie about going to a convent instead of the château—though her reasoning for telling that lie in the first place still evades him. The same could be said about the Chantemerle when it came to her relationship with Lumière, though they undoubtedly had suspicions upon their brief introductions last Christmas. But why continue to isolate herself when Bernadette could be that person she speaks to freely?

Lumière did not have much time to ponder that before Nicolas entered the room with Marc just behind. Since Bernadette had been collecting draw after draw, the viscount had instantly taken note of the maid's jubilant façade.

"How did you fare, mademoiselle?"

Bernadette slapped down the last card in her hand to claim the final deal of the round. "Well," she began with reclaimed poise. "If I counted correctly, my score for this round was…" She checked the slate. "Forty-eight?"

"Did you now?" Nicolas appeared delightfully dumbfounded. "And you, Lumière?"

The maître d' shook his head, looking to be at a loss for words. "It was certainly not forty-eight."

Marc stepped forward, smiling down at Bernadette as he took her hand in reverence. "If that is the case, may I be granted the honor of being your partner for our next game?"

Teeth and eyes sparkled back up at him, and the footman was dazzled. "I would love to, Marc."

As Lumière celebrated internally at Marc's tactfulness, Nicolas turned to him with grandeur and offered his hand. "Shall we let bygones be bygones in the name of our legendary partnership?"

Lumière firmly took it in the same fashion. "What would the world be without it?"

Taking a seat across from his friend, Nicolas glanced by the fire, frowned, and swept his eyes around the room. "Where's Babette?"

"The courtyard," Lumière answered casually before Bernadette had hardly opened her mouth.

Nicolas eyed him doubtfully. "In this weather?" he replied as a soft roll of thunder was heard over the continuous rainfall.

"She said she was getting some air," Bernadette assured.

"Oh." Crossing his arms, Nicolas watched Lumière deal the cards to each of them before he shifted in his chair. "Did she seem well?"

"She is fine, Nicolas," Lumière said with an undertone of finality. "I am sure she only wanted to stretch her legs."

Nicolas seemed to reluctantly resign to that logic and remained seated. "Right. Of course."

Feeling the sudden dip into an awkward tension, Bernadette regarded them warily as they adamantly stared at their cards. With a plea to break the silence in her eyes, she looked to Marc. He straightened in his seat as nonchalantly as possible and placed his elbows on the edge on the table.

"So," he prompted as he laid down the first trick. "Bernadette…" He cleared his throat when Bernadette met his eyes again. "How do you like Paris so far?"

Having clearly not expected him to ask her a direct question, she stammered a reply. "Oh! Well… Where do I begin?"

Lumière smirked at the exchange as she continued, with Marc's encouragement, to profess her elated opinions on her experience thus far. He saw Nicolas smile at her excitement before glancing to the salon door again, as though anticipating Babette's return.

The feeling is mutual, Lumière replied silently. But let her be for now. With as much as she must maintain, secrets and composure alike, the least she needed was space to gather her thoughts.

Right at the brink of shelter, Babette was leaning against a pillar supporting the second-floor balcony, watching the heavy rain splash and pool onto the cobblestone.

It was funny that many times during the day, she craved to be alone, but somehow, she always forgot what being alone entailed. Her thoughts just never seemed to subside. That was exactly what company was for: Distraction.

The right company, Babette corrected with snort.

'Only three weeks.' It had barely been a week and she had reached her breaking point. The tension she felt when he was in the same room as her… Her nerves were frayed from the constant strain.

It didn't matter what he did, what he said, or how he acted. All of it constantly reminded her of who she was misleading, who she had failed. She had wanted to be a good daughter, friend, and fiancée, but she was none of the above. She had disappointed all of them, even if they didn't know it yet. Her heart ached for many reasons it seemed, but no other reason caused greater pain than that.

There will be a right time, she promised herself. When it is safe again, I will confess everything and then…

She faltered. It was the right thing to do, to come clean, and she couldn't wait for that day.

But would that ruin the trust between her and Nicolas for good?

Heaving a sigh mingled with a groan, Babette stared at the thick, gray clouds above. Had the rain lightened since she had been outside?

She moved a hand into the curtain of droplets, letting them hit her open palm and drip off her fingers. Only by a little, she concluded. Compared to feather-light snow, rain fell like pebbles.

She enjoyed watching rain, but she could sit at a window all day and watch snow drift down from the heavens.

After shaking off the excess water, she rubbed her hands together to mix what was left, appreciating its coolness while it lasted. She glanced at the solid walnut door leading inside, unsure of how long it had been. Still, her feet remained planted.

A few more minutes, she bargained. Leaning her head against the pillar behind her, she closed her eyes, letting the sounds of the storm drown out her worry and unease.

A/N: For the purpose of this chapter, I actually taught myself how to play piquet and whist through free tutorials and simulators, including a piquet app for Android that I now enjoy on occasion. When I first got it though, I was addicted to it for a week. No joke.