"Wow!," Niles exclaims appreciatively, and Daphne is reminded of the first time she wore that dress, at the Snow Ball nearly three and a half years ago. Niles had seemed fascinated by it, and he'd said that it was very beautiful. Daphne knew that he wasn't acting that part, if he'd acted anything at all. Deep inside, she had to admit to herself that what she had praised him for (being so good at faking feelings) had probably been very unfair and disappointing to him. By then she didn't believe possible that someone like Niles Crane may have developed a genuine interest in someone like her, so she played at denial. She simply discarded the notion for absurd and impossible, and in the process, she must have hurt him badly.

Daphne makes a mental note to broach the topic some time in the course of the night. For as hard as it is, she doesn't want those kinds of misunderstandings to tarnish their brand new relationship, even if they belong to the past.

For some reason, she has decided that it's time to put the red dress to use again. It had cost her more than she could afford (she'd been paying it in installments for a few months, thanks to the shop manager's kindness to her) and it's a pity that she hasn't found more occasions to wear it. Her past boyfriends haven't been interested in going to posh parties or dancing lounges, and even in the case they had been, wearing that dress with them (or with anyone who wasn't Niles, period) felt wrong. So it had remained in her closet. She aired it out from time to time to prevent it from getting ruined by dust and humidity, and each time she's done that her chest has hurt a little because she was sure that she would probably never feel so beautiful as she did the night of the Snow Ball, with Niles openly admiring her.

It hadn't been an act, none of it; she's aware of it now. Neither had it been fake in her part, not truly. But she'd been too craven and had backpedaled because she'd been terrified of the alternative. Niles was a married, successful, sophisticated man, so far from her league that she didn't harbor any hope that there could be any kind of future for them as a couple.

At present, with her past apprehensions gone, it's as if she wants to make up for her mistake at having kept him at arm's length, and try to build new happy memories wearing that same dress.

In any case, Nile's awed stare is enough to make her feel fully confident that she's made the right choice of outfit.

"I absolutely love this dress, Daphne. You're spectacular in it," he praises fervently. "But I feared that I wouldn't see it ever again. I haven't seen you in it since... Well, since the Snow Ball."

She blushes. With him, she feels like the goddess he'd claimed her to be so long ago. "Thanks, Niles. I haven't found the right moment to wear it again until now," she admits. "I guess I'm not the kind of woman whom most men would take to elegant places; firstly, because they don't give a hoot about anything beyond their usual watering holes. And secondly, because they don't care much for what I like as long as they get what they like, that is, someone to warm their beds and little more," she rants a bit bitterly.

Niles takes her hand. "Daphne, I'd never consider you less than a queen, and that's how you deserve to be treated," he states, looking intensely into her eyes. She blushes once more in pleasure.

Frasier clears his throat loudly from the sofa and they turn around to face him and Martin. Apparently she and Niles have been at the door for too long, staring at each other like corny fools. "Dad and I are still here, for your knowledge," Frasier needles.

"Niles, take good care of her," Martin warns. "And have fun, you two." He smiles knowingly.

Daphne is glad and relieved that the older Crane men are supportive of her relationship with Niles. The previous evening, when she and Niles delivered the news, the other two hadn't been very surprised, as if they'd been expecting that outcome for long. Daphne didn't rule out some sort of wager between them and suspected that Martin was the winner (he'd shot a wide smile at Frasier, who had sulked slightly). She even pictured a few bucks changing hands as soon as she and Niles were out of sight.

Such a pair of busybodies those two were.

"Thanks, Dad. We will," Niles answered his father.

"Thanks," Daphne echoed.

Then they walked to the hallway, heading for the lift.

Le soleil de Provence is as elegant as only one of Nile's favorite restaurants can be. Elegant without falling into stuffiness. Everything shows excellent taste, from the decoration to the personnel. They are deferential without showing obsequiousness, what Daphne appreciates. She despises empty pomposity.

To top it all, the food and wine are as heavenly as Niles has announced. She's feeling pretty sated and content in the pleasant ambiance. The conversation has also been progressively more relaxed between them, and she's discovered that she can talk virtually about anything with Niles. She's not a connoisseur of refined things or an expert in fine arts, but she's not dumb or abysmally uncultured either, so she can hold herself in many kinds of conversations. She is even capable of surprising Niles with things he ignored. Perhaps they aren't topics his snob acquaintances would ever deign to tackle or whose existence they know of, too uptight to look down at the mundane world, the world of the common people like her who knows a couple of things about making do by oneself, without an army of servants tending to every whim.

She decides to bring to light the question that intrigues her the most. "Niles, I'm curious about something. I'm afraid that it's going to make you quite uncomfortable, but I really need to know. I've been regretting what happened at the Snow Ball. Not the dancing (that was amazing and I'd never had such a good time before), but what happened after the dancing. When I... I practically accused you of being a good actor, when I was not better. And the truth is that I hadn't been acting as much as I made you believe. I genuinely felt attracted to you. But I feared that things were getting out of control and I was terrified, so I searched for a lame excuse. You were married, rich, unattainable. And I was just a poor working-class woman. This dress couldn't change that fact, or the fact that you couldn't truly love me, or so I forced myself to think." She lowered her eyes, remembering the painful moment.

Niles took her hand from accross the tasteful table. "Daphne, look at me, please," he asked quietly, and she raised her eyes to his infinitely soft, blue ones.