Chapter 17
"I ran away, and that's the last I ever saw of my old life. Soon, I was lost, and alone. I pulled through though, eventually, and here I am today. I knew I could have done something to save them though. I knew I could have. Oh, how very little sense I had, but I…" Sébastien was near choking with emotion. In the silver lighting, his eyes were translucent, clouded.
"You could have done nothing without getting yourself killed too. Your parents, they know that too," Tiffany stated firmly. So he wasn't royalty. He had worked his way, from a boy to the fine man he now was. That not only explained his weathered, bare hands, it also heightened Tiffany's respect for him. The traumatic scenario of what she had just been told played over again and again, in a mute, black and white film. Though she tried, she simply couldn't comprehend the emotions he must have felt. She knew she couldn't. Perhaps one day…
Sébastien lightened up his tone, "I hate to admit it, but you're right, once again. After all these years, it is somewhat relieving to tell someone about it."
She frowned, "You've never told anyone before?"
"You could say that." Jesus in heaven! Did the man possess strength of impossible amounts or was he just daft? All those years, and he just let it stew inside, slowly, slowly.
"Monsieur Leveré, you really are the most puzzling person I have met in my short span of a life. Why in god's name did you keep it all inside for so long? Hadn't anyone told you before that you should never keep such things in?"
"They never asked, and I guess I just didn't want anyone I would see often to know. It would be awkward," he said, shrugging, "Now you know, but please, I'm counting on your discreetness."
"I won't tell, not a soul."
"Thank you, Tiffany." Then after a brief moment's hesitation, he apologized "So I'm no duke, nor viscount. I realize I should have corrected you earlier."
She felt oddly insulted that he should think she only talked to him for a title she'd presume he'd had. "Yet that doesn't change a thing for me. Does it for you, Monsieur Leveré?"
He smiled then, a genuine, knee-melting smile. "Non, of course it doesn't. People like me have learnt to look beyond the title of someone; my parents' murderer was a baron," then rolled his eyes.
ARRRRGGHHH! A rough, anguished deep shout thickly sliced the still night. All festive clamor died. Then, the night went still as a tomb.