Chapter Twenty-Two: A Friendly Jaunt

Mlle de Chantemerle owned a mare she had taken for walks around her home grounds, the town, and the nearby countryside. The horse was of a sweet disposition and followed Babette's biding without the slightest hesitation. Despite this, she did not call herself much of an equestrian. In most recent years, she had not taken her mare, Harmonie, out to ride hardly at all. Firmin, their coachman, had taken it upon himself to provide the poor girl with the exercise she needed. Babette was grateful to him and offered any compensation he wished, but he insisted he took much pleasure in the task and that, like the humble man he was, that was all the reward he needed.

Unfortunately, this was not a day for Babette to ride a horse of such a nice temperament. Nicolas offered her to ride one of his pedigree stallions. The thought made her anxious but also excited, so she agreed to the offer willingly. She was sure he wouldn't give her a steed as stubborn and feisty as she could become, though she knew that wouldn't be completely beneath his sense of humor.

She arrived at La Bazolle promptly at two o'clock, was welcomed approvingly by its head of household, Renaud, and shown to the de Créquy's stables, where the viscount and maître d' were helping to ready their mounts.

When both saw her, they were momentarily transfixed.

However briefly he allowed it, Lumière found himself beholden to fate just to be able to see Babette dressed so sumptuously in every outfit she wore. He would never have gotten to appreciate how exquisite and refined she could look otherwise. She had claimed she could not be a proper noble, but based on her poise, air, and fashion sense, to deny she was a proper noble was akin to gross slander. She was, without a doubt, a vicomtesse, a vision, and a paragon of women.

Babette could not avoid feeling their attention and reveling in it at least a little, especially when one's was from a man she admires and respects, and the other's… Well, she did not need Lumière's approval. On some level, despite this, and as superficial as she felt by admitting it, she was gratified to still have it. After what she had made him a witness to at La Fleur Noire, she would think it was the only trait about her he could appreciate at that point.

Speaking of, she couldn't help but take notice of Nicolas' high-top riding boots, which only seemed to make him look taller and… more masculine.

And yet, so did Lumière. Perhaps his boots were more modest, but with his slender frame, they made him look no less dashing.

She cleared her throat as well as her thoughts. "Bonjour, gentlemen."

Snapping out of their own musings, they voiced graciously back, "Mademoiselle."

"You look…" Lumière stammered, but hesitated when Nicolas glanced over at him. Then he persisted anyway. "You look lovely."

As she was held frozen by his tender gaze, she felt the feathery fluttering of butterflies in her gut.

Choosing to ignore that sensation, as well as the warmth in her cheeks, she granted politely, "Merci, monsieur. You are too kind."

"He's right, you know," Nicolas added with a small smile. "Lovely, indeed."

"Well, now that we are all in agreement," Babette joked with a smirk, "shall we be off?"

"Aptly spoken," she heard the viscount commend, but her attention had been caught by the wry knowing grin Lumière wore.

Blinking away the distraction, she asked them, "And which horse will I be riding?"

"It's a surprise," the maître d' slyly informed.

Nicolas shrugged, confirming his friend's words. "We will meet you outside with him, Babette."

With an eyebrow raised in interest, she replied, "All right," before doing what she was bid.

Moments later, while Babette had been surveying the manicured parterres and flowers of the front gardens, the men came out holding their steeds by their reins.

She registered the sound of hooves at last and turned to suddenly see Lumière walking beside this great black stallion with strong legs and an elegant gait. With its shiny luxurious coat, the horse looked like it had been carved from obsidian.

Babette's jaw dropped. "What a beautiful animal!" she uttered.

The boys exchanged triumphant looks. "How convenient!" Lumière said, highly amused. "He is yours for the day."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, Dieu." She glanced at Nicolas. "Do you mean it?"

Nicolas nodded, pleased by her response. "Oui, I do. He's a good boy. He would not cause you trouble for the world."

"I hope I can return the favor," she admitted.

Nicolas handed his horse's reins to the stable boy, Romain, who also held Lumière's horse, and came next to Babette. "Like all relationships, you must first be introduced. Here."

He dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out a couple cubes of sugar. "Nothing wrong with a little inducement," he whispered to her with a wink.

After taking a shaky breath, she took them carefully into her hand before he led her slowly toward the black stallion.

"Babette, meet Aristote. Aristote," Nicolas addressed to the horse in kind, petting its neck, "this is Babette."

Babette had to smile at that. "Enchantée," she sincerely said to the stallion, holding up the sugar cubes for him. "I must say, monsieur, I greatly admire your work."

The men chuckled as Aristote tentatively sniffed at her hand. The suspense only lasted a few seconds before he accepted her offering.

"He could never resist a fan," Lumière noted.

Her smile grew as she pet the animal's long snout. "I always knew he would be a gentleman in-person. Although, he is much bigger than I imagined!"

"Almost sixteen hands," Nicolas clarified impressively. "Half a hand taller than his father, too."

Babette narrowed her eyes, curious. "Was his father…?"

Lumière gave her a firm nod. "Platon."

A giggle escaped her. "Oh, how very fitting!"

With a satisfied nod, Nicolas observed happily, "You two will get along splendidly," before he went to retrieve his horse from Romain.

Gesturing to Aristote, Lumière offered, "May I?"

Pausing with her hand on her steed's neck, she watched him with a bit of surprise. "Of course," she tried to say as nonchalantly as possible.

He handed her the reins before he stepped back to allow her to be even with the saddle. With the reins in her left hand, she took the saddle horn with it and gave Lumière her right. He gripped her gloved hand firmly as she set her left foot into the stirrup and she pressed part of her weight into his hand.

Perhaps it was from her lack of proper strength to mount a horse this tall, but she trembled as she lifted herself to be leaning against the saddle. He held her steady, to which she was grateful for, but she couldn't bring herself to show it.

Only then did she let go of his hand to swing her right leg to the other side.

"Comfortable?" he checked.

Having been adjusting her seat in the saddle, she looked down at him; She really sat quite high now. Her nerves briefly sparked, causing her mouth to twitch.

She quickly faced forward again. "Oui, merci," she managed.

He eyed her carefully, a line having appeared between his brows. "Are you certain?"

"I am, truly," she insisted, though she did not meet his eye again as she looked to be rearranging her skirts across her legs. "Thank you."

He hesitated for a moment, but felt he had no choice but to accept her at her word. Even so, he decided he would keep a close eye on her. Despite her adamant refusal to admit it, something was causing her discomfort.

Lumière mounted his bay brown mare alongside Nicolas' chestnut stallion. He allowed the vicomte to lead and waited for Babette to go ahead of him. With her reins correctly held in her fists, she quickly squeezed her horse's side to prompt it to walk.

She had hardly even been on a horse for two minutes, and she had already wrapped the aura of a queen about her person, most likely without realizing it. This only made the fact all the more incredible and attractive.

Babette glanced his way, and rather instinctually, he tossed her his charming smile as she passed him. To his amazement, she returned it, if briefly, before she turned her head as though to hide—

Was that… blushing I saw? Lumière wondered in awe before giving his mare a few clicks to urge her onward.

Nicolas led them on the trail to the wide span of woods on the de Créquy's property. He and Babette walked side-by-side as Lumière stayed at the rear. The maître d' imagined Nicolas would want a bit of privacy with his betrothed, but every time he tried to put some distance between him and them, Nicolas kept addressing him so that he remained included in the conversation, as scarce as that already was.

Given the circumstances, Lumière found this peculiar, not to mention counterintuitive. He was also trying to be a good chaperone—that is, to stay clear out of the way. But Nicolas wasn't letting Lumière do him any favors. Not to mention the viscount was unusually quiet. What on earth was going on?

Then he noticed Babette was also being as polite as can be, nor was she taking the initiative in starting much discussion. This immediately indicated to him her unease in their current situation… and it all clicked.

Since their romantic exchange at La Fleur Noire, the air between the betrothed pair had become strained. Perhaps it had been too soon. Knowing Nicolas' usual tendency to be overcautious when it came to love, Babette's bold move due to her rash, impulsive spirit must have rattled him to some degree, and she might have realized that fact about her fiancé a moment too late. This would explain the awkwardness emanating from both sides.

As they reached the trees' canopy of the woods, Lumière sighed. Great. Another mess I have to clean up.

Silence had settled, so instead of trying to maintain distance, he urged the mare a touch closer to almost be walking in-between the couple and addressed, "I just remembered, mademoiselle, that I must offer my apologies."

Babette turned to him, confused and wary. "Have you slighted me somehow?" With arched brow, she added, "Are you sure I noticed?"

He chuckled. "You most certainly took notice, having followed us to La Fleur Noire."

The reaction from both Nicolas and Babette confirmed to Lumière how right he was; Nicolas' attention was suddenly caught by the flight of a bird from its perch while Babette averted her gaze to fiddle with her riding gloves, but not before some more color had bloomed on her cheeks.

"Admittedly," Lumière continued with assurance, pretending not to notice, "I am the one who encouraged Nicolas to accompany me—"

"Oh no, you don't!" Nicolas interrupted, and imparted to Babette. "I caught him trying to sneak out alone, but I insisted I join him."

"For safety," Lumière annexed, watching Nicolas with meaning.

Nicolas seemed to struggle with admitting to that little white lie, but consented, "Right. Still, I am sorry to have caused you worry. Our intention was far from it." He smirked at his friend. "But someone needs to keep him out of trouble."

Smiling with attempted innocence, Lumière shrugged and playfully conceded, "What can I say? I am a hopeless cause!"

Babette grinned at that. The same brand of admiration that Lumière had craved since they had danced together last Christmas Eve was present in her eyes, and for a second, Lumière thought he was imagining it.

"You are forgiven," she kindly bestowed.

Lumière humbly inclined his head, unable to stop smiling. "Mademoiselle is as gracious as she is beautiful."

Babette faced Nicolas before she could worry about her own heart's palpitations. "As are you, chéri."

The viscount smiled back, his shoulders loosening slightly. "Merci, Babette."

As soon as she turned away, Nicolas glanced over his shoulder at his friend gratefully. Lumière shot him a wink and an encouraging nod in Babette's direction. Now it is your tur—

"Messieurs, I am going on ahead," Babette suddenly spoke, a sly smile on her lips. "Feel free to keep up with me."

She then spurred her stallion into a trot with ease, an elegant figure as there ever was on a horse.

The gentlemen exchanged looks of surprise before staring after her in confusion.

"What do you think that was about?" Nicolas asked.

"Well, whatever it was," Lumière said, shooing him onward, "you better not disappoint!"

Nicolas suddenly became less eager. "What if… she only wanted a moment to herself?"

The maître d' furrowed his brow. "Why would she have agreed to come riding with you if she wanted to be alone?"

"She may have felt obligated to accept my invitation," Nicolas earnestly suggested.

Lumière snorted and shook his head. "All right, something is bothering you."

The viscount's defenses immediately went up. "I am perfectly fine, thank you."

With a smile and snap of his fingers, Lumière declared, "Ah! There she is."

"Who?"

"Your mother, in that very response!"

Lumière watched Nicolas roll his eyes, but persisted, "You are clearly not 'fine,' mon ami. If mademoiselle is involved at all—and I would bet my yearly earnings that she is--you should speak to her about it, this very day. The sooner this mutual discomfort between you is abated, the better."

Nicolas slowly shook his head, a line between his brows. "It's… too soon. I… need time to gather my thoughts."

"If you feel you must," his friend begrudged. "Come, let us not allow the lady to remain unattended."

"You go ahead. I will catch up shortly." After a warning look from Lumière, he added, "I promise, only a minute."

The old valet couldn't help but look to the sky and throw up his hands. "Fine. But do us the courtesy of not wallowing in your self-pity for long."

He didn't wait for a reply before spurring his mare to where Babette rode a couple dozen yards ahead of them. Here he was, working hard to overcome powerful feelings of affection for a woman he could not have and was forced to be around, and Nicolas was made utterly useless from a bit of feminine daring. Had she really convinced him prior to his arrival that she was the opposite?

Lumière caught up to Babette, who had slowed to a walk once more. She turned at his approach, acknowledged him with a half-hearted smile, but glanced further back to find Nicolas still trailing far behind. She seemed resigned to this and faced forward again, her lips drawn into a somber line.

"Give him a moment," Lumière sympathetically advised. "He is… rather pensive today."

The undertones of irritation crept into her voice. "Now that, I have noticed," she said with brow aloft.

She fell silent as she stared blankly at the path ahead, the thoughts that were arising clearly not of a positive nature.

Thinking only to distract her from them, he spoke up to say, "I must admit, mademoiselle, you look like quite the noblewoman atop a horse."

She looked up but hesitated. It seemed only when she let her worries be put on hold that she smirked back at him.

"Do I?" With a shrug, she admitted, "My goal was to impress, but in more ways than merely my appropriate attire."

"I was not meaning to compliment only your attire, although you do wear it… extremely well." He cleared his throat, having to draw his eye away for a moment to maintain a bit of his composure. "I also refer to your posture… your demeanor. And your confidence. As I watch you handle your steed like an expert, 'regal' is a word that occurs to me."

Her smile was bittersweet. "You are trying to make me feel better," she discerned knowingly.

"Is it working?"

She huffed a laugh. "Whenever you pay a compliment, it somehow manages to work."

His response was pure sincerity. "That is all the gratification I need."

Then Babette almost immediately saw a sudden and rather mischievous idea occur to him. "You know…" he began, "I would be very willing to see how far your horsemanship goes."

"Oh, really?" she replied, freely buying into the conversation's new spirit. "And how might you propose I prove it?"

He pursed his lips in thought before, while wearing his infamous smirk, he suggested, "A race?"

Her blue eyes alighted with interest, but she then pouted in skepticism. "A proper one?"

"And how would a race be considered 'proper' in your eyes?"

With deceptive innocence, she replied simply, "When bets are established by each party."

Lumière was stunned, then chuckled with delight. "That is the most refreshing statement I have heard today, mademoiselle! What do you suggest we gamble? Coin… or favors?"

"Truthfully," Babette said, wearing a delectable smile, "besting you will be reward enough."

"Oh, perhaps my flattery has worked too well!" he declared, feeling as close to his old self as he had been in months. "I will be sorry to cause any injury to your self-assurance, but… if you insist…"

Tugging Aristote to a stop, she gestured ahead of them as she taunted playfully, "Name where we will finish, and we shall see who will be nursing their injured ego… monsieur."

The insinuation she had threaded into her last word did not escape him. "Do not speak too soon… mademoiselle," he tossed right back. "Not until we have come to… that fork in the trail."

Babette followed his gaze, about two hundred meters away. "Bien. I will cue us to start."

"No cheating," he teased.

She looked over at him to coyly reply, "Only if you do."

Reins gripped firmly in his hands, Lumière inclined his head in agreement before she counted off, "Trois."

Perpetual smirks lifted the corners of their mouths. "Deux."

Babette thought to eye the finish line, but she found herself unable to look away from his gaze. If she did before the last second, it felt like she would lose part of the game. "Un…"

He watched her expectantly, silently urging her to say it. She puckered her lips slightly as though she might change her mind. Could she, even though they had not even begun?

Impossible. She was determined.

"Allez!"

She kicked her stallion's sides in the same instant she cried it. Lumière started a split second after her, his smile broadening at her little trick.

The wind greeted Babette with delight, the pounding hooves on solid earth filled her ears, and trees whipped past her in a flurry. This was the most exhilarated she had felt in… ages.

She chanced a glance to her left and saw Lumière keeping pace with her. Still grinning, he met her eye and shook his head as though to taunt, You are not going to win!

Quirking her brows at him, she replied silently, Wait and see!

All right, mon grand, she thought to her steed. Show me what you can do.

Babette gave Aristote another squeeze to his sides. Though he was already in a full gallop, this encouraged him to give a sudden burst of speed. She didn't move her eyes from the right side of the fork.

As soon as she passed the tree that split the path, she turned her head to see if she had won… and indeed she had. Triumphant, she faced forward again, only to realize the path she took angled sharply. She was heading straight for the trunk of a broad maple.

In a panic, she pulled at the reins to turn, but not enough to keep her left knee from colliding with the side of the tree.

She gasped as the pain grew into a sudden wave. She didn't have time to recognize anything beyond it until her horse started to buck. One great rear and neigh from Aristote and Babette couldn't regain her grip. Her legs refused to function, and her gloved hands slipped from the reins. She dropped flat onto her back, hitting the ground with a groan.

Aristote continued to make a fuss, his hooves stomping terribly close to her. With her heart beating in her ears, she tried to crawl backwards to a safer distance. Her knee throbbed but she could still move her leg.

Then a hand pressed her shoulder. "Lie still," Lumière urged before immediately and fearlessly approaching the bucking stallion.

She watched him stand in front of it, calm and collected with his hands held out to Aristote's nose and neck. He managed to grip the bridle and rubbed the horse's nose soothingly, hushing and murmuring to him as the stallion's jitters died down.

More hooves were heard behind her, and Nicolas appeared on his horse, shocked. "What in God's name happened? Babette, are you hurt?"

He was about to step down from his perch, but Lumière held out his hand. "Wait! I will check on her. Head back and send for a doctor to arrive at the manor as soon as possible. I will make sure she returns safely."

Nicolas hesitated, but at the decisive tone and expression Lumière spoke in and wore, he agreed.

"Here." The maître d' handed Aristote's reins over to the vicomte. "I will take Babette home on mine."

Merely nodding, Nicolas complied, and with one last glance of uncertainty and concern at his fiancée, he urged both horses to ride toward the way they had come.

Lumière knelt beside her. "How is your head?"

Babette blinked, her mind having gone elsewhere. Something he had said to Nicolas made her wonder, but she couldn't pinpoint what it had been. "… What?" she muttered.

He frowned. "Are you dizzy? Can you see me?"

"Oh… Oui, I can. My head is… fine," she managed. Her last bouts of adrenaline were evaporating rapidly, and the aches and pains where slowly becoming more and more apparent.

"Can you sit up?"

He held out his hand for her to grab, and he supported her behind her shoulders. Her head was barely a few inches off the ground before she felt it. "Ow."

"Where does it hurt?"

"My… back."

"Is that the only place you feel pain?"

Babette eyed her knee, where that part of skirt was torn. She tried to move it again as before.

"AH!" Tears flooded behind her lids. "Oh, merde!"

Bewildered, his instinct was to sweep his hand over her cheek and catch the tears that escaped. He supposed it was fortuitous that she had suddenly put his fingers in a vice. "What, what was it?" he urged. "Your leg?"

A sinking feeling of dread slid into the pit of her stomach. What have I done?

"My… my knee…" The amount of pain that she felt at such a meager twitch of her leg was almost unbearable. Had she rendered it utterly useless? Had she-?

"Oh, mon Dieu!" she gasped. "Did I just… cripple myself?"

That fear had, in the same instant, occurred to Lumière as well, but he squelched it in favor of remaining calm for the both of them. "Babette."

She met his eye, and it dawned on her: This was only the third time in recent days that she had heard him address her without titles, using just the name she preferred. She was caught off-guard by it again, as she had been during their moment alone on the theatre's terrace; When it fell from his mouth in that smooth and entrancing voice of his, it still sounded just as sweet.

"Now is not the time to jump to conclusions," he reasoned. "Not until a professional has examined it. All right?"

Babette succeeded in taking a deep, if shaky breath, though her throat was still tight. She nodded.

He glanced at her knee, currently hidden under her dress. "Before we move you and risk further injury… may I take a look?"

"Oh," she said, admittedly a bit surprised by the question. "Uh… oui, of course."

Lumière noticed her face flush further. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she insisted with a sigh. "I trust you."

He watched her for a moment more as though to be certain, and guilt crept into Babette's gut.

"Lie back down," he then instructed gently. "Try to relax."

She obeyed, a small smile creeping in as she noted, "It… almost sounds as though you have done this before."

"I have had my own share of horse-related injuries, as much as Nicolas."

"Didn't he…" She swallowed. "… break his arm while riding before?"

He smirked, impressed. "He shared that with you?"

"Non," she replied with a shake of her head, having to grin. "That was you."

His brow furrowed. "It was?"

"Back when I worked at… du Lac."

He shook his head in amazement. "I cannot believe you remember that."

She shrugged. "I have a good memory… when it is worth remembering."

He tried to pretend he was too focused on checking her knee, but the sentiment behind her words was obvious.

Having carefully pulled back her skirt to only reveal her left knee, he immediately saw that even through her stocking, the area around the joint had swelled.

She raised her head. "How bad is it?"

"… I am glad I called for a physician."

Her tone became threatening. "Lumière…"

"It is… very swollen."

With an excruciating noise, she dropped her head back to the ground, covering her eyes. "Oh Dieu, I am such an idiot…"

A pang pierced his heart. "Ah, no, no, no, none of that, please," he immediately hushed. "I will not have you condemn yourself for this when I was the one who encouraged it."

"Don't you dare!" she fiercely snapped. "You have taken the blame far too many times when… I was the reason you had to in the first place."

Lumière wanted to retort but cut himself short. "This is not the time or place to discuss it." Thinking fast, he announced, "I am going to wrap your knee so it does not bend."

He pulled out his handkerchief from his pocket and assessed its size. "Zut… This is not enough. I have nothing else."

Babette propped herself gingerly onto her elbow and glanced down at her lower half. "Use a part of my underskirt."

He stared at her. "What?"

"Tear the end of my underskirt and use that to wrap it."

Based on his expression, he seemed to be questioning her sanity. "You are telling me to tear a part of your dress."

She almost rolled her eyes. "Lumière, it is just fabric. I do not care about a ripped petticoat. I have plenty of them."

Throwing up his hands with a sigh, he gave in. "Fine. As you wish."

Babette laid back down, wincing a bit from her sore back while he grabbed a section of her petticoat to tear. She heard the fabric rip as he tugged.

Suddenly, she laughed.

He paused in binding her knee, wearing a confused and intrigued grin. "What could you possibly be finding funny, now of all moments?"

"I was thinking—" Another giggle cut her off. "—if someone were to happen upon us… ooh!" She mimed the shock of the pedestrian caught unawares.

Lumière shook his head, in awe, and had to laugh himself. "You are clearly delirious, chérie. You must have hit your head."

"Lumière… I truly think I am," she moaned, staring up at the green canopy above her and the blue sky beyond. "Ever since I returned home months ago… nothing has made sense."

He stayed silent, but a small, inconsequential speck of hope was lit at her words. One that needed to be put out as soon as possible.

He tied the makeshift bandage into a knot. "Come, we need to get you on your feet."

"I am not looking forward to this," she groaned.

"Here." He referred to her left. "Put this arm around my neck and take my other hand."

Babette did as she was told, acutely feeling how close she was to him. She tried to calm her racing heart as he supported her back and helped her rise, keeping her weight on her right foot. Parts of her back pricked with pain, but she could tolerate it. Luckily, her knee was stiffened by his handiwork.

"Good," he commended. "Now we walk you to Ciel over there."

With a nod, he indicated the mare hastily tied to a low-hanging branch, who was contently munching on some grass along the trail.

A couple pain-staking minutes of Babette having to hop on one leg while Lumière supported her caused her to say, "I have never felt more pathetic."

"With the countless times I have made a fool of myself in front of you," he countered with a smile. "You should know better than to become embarrassed around me, of all people. Besides, you can still lord over me that you won our little race."

This made her smile smugly back. "I certainly did, non?"

Finally at his horse, Babette moved her grip to the saddle. "Now…" She glanced down at her useless leg. "How I am getting up here?"

"Simple." Then he crouched, wrapped his arms around her thighs, and rose in one swift movement.

She yelped in alarm, having to grasp his shoulders for balance, then winced at the ache that ensued. The sudden lift didn't exactly do her now throbbing knee any favors either.

"The horn, mademoiselle," she heard him remind matter-of-factly.

A twinge of annoyance spiked through her; she couldn't even see his face, but she could tell he was wearing that detestable smirk of his.

She didn't hesitate to put her hands on the saddle instead, proceeding to pull herself into sitting side-saddle. He promptly followed after her with reins in hand.

Now she was wedged between the horn and him.

When she faced Lumière, their faces were inches apart, yet she boldly observed with narrowed eyes, "You are still finding something to enjoy about all this."

He tried to school his smirk into something offended. "Moi? How could you insinuate such a thing? And while you are injured no less!" He huffed indignantly. "I am quite insulted!"

Babette gave him a censorious glare, though, despite herself, a tiny smile crept up. "I should not have expected anything more from you!"

"I thrive on meeting others' expectations, yours especially," he unabashedly informed. "I would never want to disappoint."

He was trying to get a rise out of her, she knew, but that didn't stop her from blushing furiously at his response. All joking aside, she growled, "You have five seconds before I commandeer your own horse."

"All right, all right," he conceded sincerely. "I will stop. My sleeves have been emptied," he promised, pretending to shake out his cuffs of any tricks.

"They better be," she warned as he cued the mare to start.

He spurred it into a canter as they retraced their steps toward La Bazolle. All the while, Babette was very keenly aware of how close she was to practically being in his embrace. His arms as they held the reins were virtually wrapped around her, and her shoulder was having to press against his chest at the velocity they were riding at. She was trying to ignore all the sensations that were creeping up inside her that were terribly inappropriate for a woman engaged to another man.

She tried to stay annoyed with him instead, but she ultimately couldn't because…

Babette glanced at him from the side, trying to swallow though her mouth had gone dry. "Lumière?"

"My lady?" he addressed back with ease.

She shut her eyes tight. Why? she screamed internally.Why does he have to do that and make me—?

Taking a deep breath, she shoved the thought aside. "Merci," she murmured.

He chuckled. "Do not thank me yet. Not until you can walk on your own again."

"Still, I—" She struggled with her words, though she yearned to express them. Everything about her current position on this damn horse was just incredibly distracting. "It needs to be said. I appreciate… everything you are doing. I have… not made any of this easy for you."

He watched her tenderly. "You are far more gracious than I deserve."

She had to look away, her guilt making its presence known. "I am only as gracious as I should have been." Then she grimaced at her own absurdity. "Except non, I have not! I have made things so difficult! I—"

"Chérie," he stopped in a stern yet gentle voice. "We can speak of this later. Perhaps in less confined circumstances?"

Begrudgingly, she acquiesced.

He had spoken lightheartedly, but in truth, it was a sweet agony to have her this close to him. Her intoxicating perfume had entrapped his senses in its grasp, and yet he had to keep reminding himself they had both been forced by Fate to become snug together atop one saddle. She was indeed a cruel mistress.

La Bazolle raced toward them after that, and they could make out as they entered the gardens' center path both families were waiting eagerly at its end.

Nicolas, Étienne and Augustine de Créquy, as well as Babette's parents, René and Clarisse, hurried to meet them as Lumière pulled his horse to a stop, all looking extremely worried.

"Nicolas had us send for a doctor!" Augustine announced. "What on earth happened?"

Lumière opened his mouth to speak, but Babette beat him to it. "I ran into a tree, madame. While riding."

"A tree?" the countesses both cried, aghast.

"Where is the doctor?" Lumière inquired.

"Just inside," René readily replied, about to lift Babette from the horse. "We have a room ready for her."

"Be careful," Lumière pressed, grabbing her hand in order to hand her down. "Her left knee may be sprained."

"Dieu, ma petite, what were you doing?" René asked, awed as he slowly brought her to the ground.

Babette pursed her lips, her eyes wide with attempted virtue. "I may have been… riding a little too fast."

Her father sighed, smiling only slightly at how she tried to make lighter of the situation. "Let us hope the injury is not as bad as it seems." He glanced at Lumière. "Can she be carried?"

"I have not tried," the maître d' admitted. "But I was able to bind her knee to prevent it from bending."

René's eyes widened with surprise, though he did not express it elsewhere. "How about we try, then?" he directed to his daughter.

Her expression became pleading. "I think that would be less humiliating than the alternative."

He went to pick her up and his wife immediately went, "Be careful, René! We don't know how bad it is."

"We need to get her into the maison somehow," he reasoned, then when Babette had her arms securely around his neck, smoothly took her up into his hold. He looked to her. "How is that?"

"Fine, Papa," Babette confirmed.

"Then off we go." Before he began to stride toward the manor, he gave Lumière a nod of approval. "Merci."

He acknowledged it in kind. "It was my honor, monseigneur."

Clarisse went to follow her husband closely behind, but not before granting Lumière a look of gratitude. Augustine and Étienne did likewise.

As she was carried away, Babette glanced over her father's shoulder at him one last time, her gaze earnest.

Then she disappeared past the threshold.

Nicolas had looked about to pursue them, but saw this happen. He turned to watch his friend with curiosity.

Lumière snapped out of his reverie that was much too fantastical to begin with. Before Nicolas could ask any questions, he told him without waiting around for a response, "I need to bring Ciel to the stables."

He clicked his tongue and headed toward the path around the manor. He would not be able to hide forever, but he certainly did not plan to head inside for a while.

As of this chapter, this has crossed the 100,000-word line, which is a first for any one of my fics. Truthfully, I didn't expect this to become as ambitious as it is, but at the same time… I'm pretty excited! The best part is—it ain't over yet!

We are now in the final act of the story. Just a few more chapters await! Stay tuned!