Chapter 96

It would have been a beautiful day if not for the world caving in around me.

I purposely walked past Sezane, then the cafe where Mona worked, the restaurant across from the university and even the pool. The doors to the university pool were locked, but more importantly there was a sign hanging from the handle that said the facility was closed for cleaning.

I wasn't certain if I could possibly feel more disappointed than I already did, but the pool closure further damped my already sullen mood.

Fate, it seemed, had abandoned me. Or perhaps she simply didn't like me attempting to force a coincidental meeting. Whatever the reason, I didn't bump into Lucille as I desired.

Given my state of mind, it was probably for the best that our paths didn't cross. She was far too sweet and I was not good company.

"To hell with Fate," I muttered as I walked through the park, fully intending to pay Hugo a visit.

I was so deep into my own thoughts that I almost didn't hear someone whistle, nor the frantic shouts of a male voice. I managed to look up in time to see a rust-colored dog barreling toward me.

There was no time to react, so I froze, drawing my left arm protectively over my chest as I braced for teeth sinking into my leg or torso.

Paws thundered toward me, followed by furry, damp feet on my thighs and the warmth of a wet tongue on the back of my right hand, which I had left at my side as some sort of offering for the beast.

I hadn't realized I'd pinched my eyes shut as if somehow I could become invisible to the attack canine, and as I dared to open a single eye, I saw a bushy brows and keep, dark eyes staring up expectantly at me.

"Duke! My God, Monsieur, I am so sorry for my dog's behavior. He never approaches anyone, I swear. Please, I beg of you, do not alert the gendarmes. I will keep a closer eye on him from now on. Do not have my dog confiscated."

"Sebastian?" I said as he frantically approached me.

Sebastian, dressed in apple green trousers and a yellow shirt, appeared horrified. "My God, Professor Kimmer," he said. "Do not have Duke killed because of me. Have me taken to the authorities instead. Please. He's just a pup."

I furrowed my brow, wondering how in the world he had deduced that his wayward dog jumping on my leg would result in the animal being destroyed by the authorities. If anything, I was certain Boucher would release the dog and call for my execution for being in the dog's way.

"Shall I tell the gendarmes that it was you who jumped on my leg and licked my hand?"

Sebastian pursed his lips, eyes averted and cheeks red with embarrassment.

Duke continued to jump up at me, docked tail flicking back and forth, dark red tongue lolling from his mouth. I wasn't familiar enough with canines to truly assess whether or not his posture was friendly or if he desired to take a chunk out of me.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian said again, his gaze still averted. He attempted to leash his dog, but the terrier dashed past him, looping around me until he was able to jump up again.

"Duke, go back to your master," I said, attempting to keep the tremble from my voice.

"I think Duke wants you to pet him," Sebastian said.

"Is that what he wants?" I asked, avoiding direct eye contact as I'd been told previously that staring a dog in the face is what had most likely resulted in one of the bites I'd received as a child.

"He's very friendly," Sebastian said.

I swallowed hard. It didn't matter how friendly the terrier was to its master; I was certain his dog would not be so affectionate toward a stranger such as myself.

In an attempt to prove me wrong, the dog pushed its head beneath my hand, settling my palm onto its skull as it continued to look up at me.

"I know nothing about dogs," I said.

"Forgive me, Professor Kimmer, but are you afraid of dogs?" he asked.

"A bit of an aversion," I said. "I've…I've been bitten in the past."

Sebastian finally managed to grab a hold of Duke's leather collar. I felt no great sense of relief as the dog continued to keep its paws on my thigh and I doubted Sebastian had much control over his companion.

"Duke won't bite you," he assured me. "You are more than welcome to pet him if you'd like."

"I would prefer not touching him," I replied.

I fully expected a snide remark from Sebastian, some comment questioning my masculinity for being apprehensive about a medium-sized dog. Instead I found that he frowned at me.

"I understand how you feel, Professor Kimmer. I was bitten by a neighbor's poodle," Sebastian said.

He pulled up his shirt, displaying several raised scars on his side along his ribcage. They were not the result of puncture wounds such as the one on the back of my leg and against my skull, but appeared as if the flesh had been ripped quite badly.

"Right here," he said, running his hand over the healed wounds. "When I was eight," he added before I asked. "The dog's name was Price, and he never did like me. The man who owned him would keep him on a chain in their garden, but he must have forgotten one day. Prince ran up when I walked out of the house. I didn't see him until it was too late and by that time, he knocked the wind out of me and wrestled me to the ground. I don't remember making a fuss at first, but he tore off a piece of my flesh. Scared the daylights out of me once it was over. I thought that dog was going to kill me and so did my father. He got his rifle and…and that was it for Prince."

My stomach dropped. "How are you not terrified of dogs after that?" I asked.

"I was," he said, eyes averted. "For a long time. Used to almost pass out when I heard barking. Felt guilty, too."

"Guilty for what?" I asked. "The dog attacked you."

"Yes, but…I don't know. I felt like if I hadn't gone outside to play then perhaps the dog wouldn't have seen me and we would have gone our separate ways. Maybe his owner was thirty seconds from realizing his mistake and he would have kept Prince tied up and none of it would have happened." He bent slightly, running his hand along Duke's back.

I had felt a sense of guilt as well, at least with the first incident as I had been running and the dog's instinct was to run and chase.

"Ivo thought that a pup might make me reconsider how I felt about dogs. He said I couldn't go through life being terrified of such creatures as I'd never want to leave the house."

"Did it work?" I asked.

Duke gazed up at Sebastian with an expression I could only describe as complete adoration.

"How could I not love Duke?" Sebastian asked. He took the dog's face in his hands and bent, kissing its black nose. "He knows when I'm upset. He knows just how to make me feel better. Don't you, boy?"

Sebastian looked up at me. "Please, Professor Kimmer, give Duke one little scratch behind the ear. He will be your best friend."

I had no desire to be any closer to the dog than necessary, but Sebastian dug into his pocket and produced a piece of dried meat.

"Sit," he said, and the dog obeyed, earning himself a piece of dried meat. Sebastian held out his hand, offering me a small piece of beef jerky. "He takes it very gently."

"I don't–"

Duke turned to face me, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. At any moment I was certain the dog would lunge at me, taking the meat and part of my hand with him.

I flung the scrap of meat in his direction, which bounced off the top of his head and behind him. Rather than look for the treat, he sat in front of me, paws stepping back and forth in anticipation.

"He can't catch food to save his life," Sebastian said. "Give him one for being such a good boy."

My heart hammered, but I took the offered piece of jerky and swallowed back my growing discomfort.

"Tell him what to do. Down, spin, paw, bark… he knows all of it."

"Sit," I said, but the dog was already sitting. "Uh, I mean down?"

Duke immediately lowered to the ground in front of me, tapping his front feet as he inched forward.

"Oh, now you're just showing off," Sebastian said. "But I suppose you've earned your reward."

I was convinced that Duke would smell or sense my apprehension and bite me for no other reason than he knew I was uncomfortable and wanted to reprimand me. Slowly I extended my hand and dropped the treat between his extended front legs.

The dog looked up at me with canine disappointment in its bushy-browed gaze.

"It's alright," Sebastian said to Duke. He turned to me. "It's alright, Professor Kimmer. We're here almost every day if you'd like to practice being around dogs." He took a step closer. "I won't tell anyone at the group that you aren't a dog person."

I nodded. "I appreciate that."

"Actually," Sebastian said. "Do you have a moment? I have my sketchbook over there and I wanted you to look at something," he said, pointing toward the pond. "If you wouldn't mind taking a look. Or giving your opinion. If you don't have time, I will wait until Thursday if you plan on being at the salon early. Or If you would like to come to The Muse, I'll bring my sketchbook with me then as well."

I wasn't in a rush as I had no appointments for the day aside from paying Hugo a visit and I very much desired a distraction from my own existence.

"By all means," I said as I followed behind Sebastian, who had leashed Duke. The dog trotted obediently at his side, gazing back to watch my every step.

Sebastian's sketchbook was on an unoccupied bench while his pencils had blown off and were mostly scattered beneath and in the grass.

He gathered everything up, then sat on the bench and I did the same, accepting his sketchbook from him, surprised that he was so willing to hand it over considering his previous reservations.

He turned to reach into his bag while he rambled on about some of his other sketches, oblivious to Duke, who had hopped onto the bench between us and decided to lie with his front paws stretched over my lap and his head down as he gazed up at me.

When Sebastian did finally turn, he looked far more amused than I felt.

"Duke is trying his very best to get you to like him, Professor Kimmer."

"I don't dislike your dog, Sebastian," I replied. "I just…I find that dogs are not overly fond of me."

"Duke is quite fond of you. In fact, he only lies on me like that when I'm very out of sorts or I'm not feeling quite like myself. After salon meetings, he sometimes stretches across me for hours, especially if Vincent was there." Sebastian frowned, his eyes filled with remorse. "Maybe Duke senses something you don't. He is very good at that, actually."

I was painfully aware of my emotional state and a bit taken aback by Sebastian's insinuation that an animal was privy to that as well.

"How long have you and Vincent been at odds?" I asked Sebastian. Very slowly I lifted my right hand from the bench and touched Duke's neck. The wiry hair was softer than I had expected, the dog having no negative reaction to an unfamiliar hand on his body.

Sebastian shrugged. "Since the first meeting, I suppose."

"Does Vincent not like you or do you not like him?"

""I don't really remember what started it, but we have never gotten along. Unfortunately, he has been insufferable for so long that the sight of him makes me quite agitated. Our dislike for one another is mutual."

"Why is that?"

Sebastian thought for a moment. "I've always thought we were too different, but perhaps we are too much alike? Vincent is a good artist, but he cannot accept criticism of any kind. I am not a good artist and I also cannot accept criticism."

"Do you think it's possible to put the past behind the two of you?" I asked.

Sebastian shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "We are too stubborn and set in our ways, Professor Kimmer. And besides, I don't really want to forgive Vincent. I don't care if that's wrong of me to say. It's the truth."

Disappointing as it was to hear, I was at least grateful for Sebastian's honesty.

"Do you think it's possible for the two of you to ignore one another at a meeting?"

"I will gladly ignore him if Vincent agrees not to say a damn word to me."

"I would like to speak to both of you and see if amends can be made. If nothing else, I would sincerely appreciate the two of you speaking civilly to one another. By no means do the two of you have to become best friends, but merely tolerate one another."

"I understand," Sebastian said.

"Do you agree?" I asked, lifting a brow.

Sebastian made a face. "I cannot promise that I will agree, but I will attempt."

"Then I shall accept your attempt and hope that Vincent feels the same."

I sat with the dog sprawled out across my legs and sketchbook in hand, examining a very detailed drawing of a woman I was fairly certain was supposed to be Calista.

"It's no one in particular," Sebastian said a little too quickly.

I nodded. "That was not a consideration of mine. She can be anyone or no one."

Sebastian sat perched on the edge of his seat, staring at me with his hands clasped.

"My critique is not a matter of like or dislike," I reminded him.

"I know," he eagerly responded.

I inhaled, going through my critique verbally as I held the sketchbook in front of me with my right hand and went over the basics as I had done previously, starting with what I saw, then the shading and blending, proportion and focal points. Sebastian remained completely focused on me in a way that was slightly distracting, but I was glad for his interest.

"The shading for her blouse is a little uneven," I said.

"Amateurish," Sebastian said under his breath. "Yes, you're right. That was a foolish mistake."

I looked up from the book and saw Sebastian fold his arms around his torso. "Are you a professional, Monsieur Lotti?"

"No, of course not, but–"

"Then you're an amateur and the shading details is an observation of mine that I've brought to your attention. It's part of the critique, not slander toward you as a person. Right?"

Sebastian bit the inside of his lip.

"Do you disagree?" I asked.

He took his time supplying an answer. "I don't disagree, Professor Kimmer."

Slowly I nodded. "Again, this is not a matter of like or dislike and I am not offering a critique to make you feel poorly about yourself or your work. The shading is something that needs a bit of work," I said.

Sebastian nodded, clearly feeling a little more deflated than I had expected considering this was not his first critique. "I should have known better."

"I have no doubt that you do know, but in this instance it was overlooked."

Sebastian still appeared like he wished to flog himself over the error.

I inhaled. "Sebastian, please understand that everyone has areas to improve. That is why artists gather at salons; to show their work and improve their art form."

"Everyone? Even you?" he skeptically asked.

I looked him in the eye. "Me? Never. I'm perfect. I attend solely for praise."

It took a beat for Sebastian to realize I wasn't being serious. He managed to pull his mouth into a puckered smile.

"I think I got a bit lazy," he admitted when I handed the sketchbook back to him. "The buttons are a bit unevenly spaced."

I turned my head to the side. "You're right, but the fold of the fabric works to your advantage and that's difficult to tell, so I won't make a larger deal than necessary about that."

"Her eyes are a little more elegant in person," he pointed out. "Perhaps I was a bit awestruck and distracted by her beauty."

"Well, you could go back to drawing dogs then," I suggested.

"Duke is a very good subject," he replied.

Briefly I glanced at him. "What are you calling this particular sketch?"

Sebastian hesitated. "Cal-Uh...Untitled," he said. "For now."

I nodded. "I would like to see a new rendition when you've made corrections and give it a title."

"Yes, thank you for your time, Professor Kimmer."

"You don't need to call me Professor Kimmer. You're not a student of mine and no formality is needed."

His smile turned into a smirk. "Grandfather?"

To that I genuinely chuckled, realizing I had been absently petting Duke the entire time. "Just Phelan," I said.

Sebastian nodded back at me, his gaze on my hand and the sleeping dog on my lap. "See? He's a good dog, Just Phelan. I knew you'd like Duke and I could tell immediately that Duke liked you."

"Duke has a good master," I replied.

To that, Sebastian gave an appreciative smile.

OoO

Once I left the park, I walked up the stairs to Hugo's home with a paper bag of day-old bakery items from the shop Anthony's parents owned. I knocked on the door, awaiting the sound of Hugo's voice telling me to come inside.

To my surprise, there was no answer, which seemed odd as I had assumed Hugo was mostly housebound and awaiting my company.

"The audacity of you to step out in my time of need," I sarcastically muttered to myself, ringing the bell again.

I bit the inside of my cheek, embarrassed by my selfishness and lack of serious concern over his absence, even if my intentions were meant as a jest. Before I walked away from the door, I tried turning the knob and found it unlocked.

"Hugo?" I shouted as I stepped inside, assuming it would not be like him to leave his home unlocked.

I couldn't tell if there had been a struggle or a robbery as the house was in such disarray that it always appeared as if someone had come in and rummaged about.

Unable to stop myself, I began moving items off of the coffee table and arranging them neatly while gathering plates and cups left behind to place them onto the service cart I had repaired.

The house seemed eerily quiet to my already frayed nerves. A fresh wave of panic started to rise within me, protruding through the layers of grief.

Surely nothing had happened to Hugo since I'd last seen him. He must have stepped out of the house or had an appointment, I reasoned. It wasn't as if he told me everything and he certainly was within his rights to come and go as he pleased without informing me of his whereabouts.

"Hugo?" I said again as I walked upstairs to his empty bedroom. I opened the doors to the two other rooms and the water closet, but there was no sign of anyone and the closed off rooms were cool and damp. Absently I made his bed and folded several articles of clothing in a basket before I returned down the stairs.

"Oy! Intruder! Be gone!"

The sound of a male voice that was not Hugo scared the living hell out of me, and I jumped almost missing the last stair. My fists were immediately in the air, the bag of bakery treats discarded as the individual ran toward me with a broom in hand.

He paused several feet in front of me, broom wielded like a club. The two of us gaped at one another, him still armed while I felt fairly certain I could have taken the broom from his hands and beat him with it if necessary.

"Cecil?" I questioned. "What in the world are you doing here?"

He made no reply, instead preferring to issue quite the smug look in my direction.

"Is Luci with you?"

Cecil's expression turned from smug to slightly more murderous.

"Luci?" Cecil questioned, puffing out his chest. "Do you mean to say Lucille? As in my sister?"

Immediately I regretted my informality when asking about the university dean's sister. In fact, I regretted asking about her at all.

"Where's Hugo?" I asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"Why are you inquiring about Lucille?" Cecil asked.

"Well..Hugo mentioned how much he adores her. I simply thought the two of you would be visiting together. Perhap next time?"

Cecil looked as though he didn't believe a single word I said. He stepped closer, broom still in his hand. "I am quite aware of how Hugo feels about my sister, Professor Kimmer. I also know how my sister feels about you."

My hands involuntarily clenched, breath caught somewhere in my throat. "I beg your pardon?"

"Cecil!" Hugo called out. "Are you still alive? There isn't really an intruder, is there?"

"It's Professor Kimmer," Cecil shouted back, his eyes still on me.

"Phelan? Is that you? Come on back. We're sitting in the inside out."

I furrowed my brow, having no idea what he meant by 'the inside out'.

"The university pool," Cecil said as I followed him down the hall and into the kitchen. He still brandished the broom as if he may still have needed to clobber me over the head. "When you saved my sister from drowning. Or an apparent drowning," he added over his shoulder. "She's a very strong swimmer. Heaven's knows why she was floating."

I blinked at him, having forgotten how Lucille had saved me from a write up by making an excuse for my soaked clothing. She had told Cecil that I jumped in thinking she was drowning instead of stating that she found me dressed and floating in the water.

Cecil opened the back door and I followed him into a surprisingly well-maintained solarium with several windows opened. There were dozens of ferns and other greenery around several wicker chairs with brightly colored striped cushions and a rug made of natural fibers.

"Welcome to the outdoors that are indoors!" Hugo proudly said.

The very last thing I needed was more of the outdoors, but there were at least no trees in bloom or pollen-bearing flowers, which made the flora tolerable.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Cecil staring at me with hardened eyes.

"I would doubt your sister feels any particular way about me after a brief conversation at such an early hour," I said, walking down the stairs and onto the brown stone flooring perfectly spaced through a carpet of moss.

Cecil grunted. "I assure you that she feels a very particular and strong way."

He didn't give much indication of whether this was good or bad, but since it was Cecil speaking, I was fairly certain he disapproved of the situation merely because it involved me.

"Which would be?" I impatiently prompted, gazing around the solarium at the domed ceiling. I had not wandered properly through Hugo's home and had no idea that the structure existed, let alone that it was such a neatly kept and bright sanctuary. It made me wonder why he chose to use his parlor as his art studio rather than the solarium.

"She thinks you're a complete fool," Cecil answered.

I nodded slowly, unsure of whether or not he would further elaborate. In the ten days since Lucille had thought she'd stumbled upon a body in the pool, I was fairly certain her opinion of me had improved. I had no doubt she still thought I was a bit of a fool, but overall I was confident she thought it was a tolerable amount, perhaps even endearing.

"I shall not attempt to persuade her otherwise," I replied.

"I've advised her against speaking to you at all," Cecil said. "You may thank me later."

"I'm not sure I understand why I would be thanking you," I said.

"Oh, don't look so offended, Professor. A jest of sorts and nothing more," Cecil said. "Although truly you are quite fortunate."

"Why is that?"

"Try as I might, I have yet to instill a shred of sense into that girl."

Hugo stirred his tea. "What are the two of you discussing?"

"Lucille," Cecil answered. "Or, as Professor Kimmer said: Luci."

"Ah. That's what I thought."

Cecil huffed. "I don't know what I am going to do with her."

Hugo regarded Cecil for a brief moment. "My dearest Luci has plenty of sense," he said. "She has a good head on her dainty shoulders and the finest heart of anyone I've ever met, save for my good friend Phelan. The better question is why you feel the need to do anything with her at all."

Cecil placed the broom beside the steps and spread himself out in one of the chairs as if he needed to take up all the available space.

"You probably think they deserve one another, don't you, Monsieur Duarte?" Cecil asked somewhat snidely. He poured himself a cup of tea, which had a peculiar, earthy scent to it. I was not a tea drinker, but I recognized that it was definitely not black tea or chamomile, which seemed to be Hugo's favorites.

I issued Hugo a significant look, hoping he would understand my pleas for him to remain silent on the matter of Lucille La Behr.

"Cecil, I would advise you to keep your undignified opinions to yourself if you have something less than flattering to say about Phelan or Luci." Hugo motioned me forward. "Don't just stand there, young man. Sit with us."

Cecil took a sip of tea and glowered. Quite frankly, I had no desire to see Cecil during the week and having to exchange pleasantries with him on the weekend felt as though the university owed me an increase of my salary.

"Tea?" Cecil offered me.

"Phelan prefers coffee," Hugo said. "He won't like this kind of tea anyhow."

Cecil snorted. "Ah. One of those." He rolled his eyes. "Are you pretentious enough to fancy that…oh, what's it called? Corindo?"

"Cortado?" I inquired.

"Yes, that Italian drink."

"I believe it's Spanish," I said.

Cecil glared at me. "Oh, who cares where it's from? You sound like Lucille."

"Is that supposed to be insulting?" I asked, irritated with how he spoke of his sister.

"No, no, not insulting." Cecil tilted his head back and stared at the glass ceiling. "I love her dearly, but she's exhausting. Always bent over a notebook or a novel, scribbling her words or engrossed in a book."

"She's a writer?" I asked. "She writes books?"

"Worse. She writes poetry." He looked as though he could not be more disgusted by the thought. "As if men have any interest in a woman's writings. Quite frankly I would like to see her making herself more appealing to a potential suitor for marriage. As it is, she puts in little effort." Cecil took another long sip of tea, which seemed to be loosening his tongue. "As of this week, she's apparently trying her hand at tennis. Oh, how it pains me to say it, but she is destined to be an old maid."

"What's wrong with tennis?" I asked.

Cecil snorted. "Well, it's not very charming for a lady to be running back and forth, heavily winded and perspiring on the lawn, is it?" he asked with a shake of his head.

"You never know, some men might find her athletic ability endearing," Hugo said, lifting a brow at me.

Cecil groaned as if he couldn't possibly agree with Hugo. "There was that one," he said, nodding at Hugo. "Remember I told you about him."

Hugo held his cup in both hands. "Forgive me, but I do not."

"The mystery man, the one she met and thought for certain would whisk her off her feet? Or at least that was her story as I'm fairly certain she conjured up the whole tale, like one of those books of hers. My God, I cannot imagine how much awful poetry she wrote over that one."

"When was this?" I asked.

Cecil blew air past his lips. "A while ago." He looked across the table at me and snorted with laughter. "If I offered you thirty francs, would you take her off my hands, Professor Kimmer?"

His words were not amusing in the least and I looked away from him, finding Hugo staring quite intently at me.

"But of course not," Cecil said. "I've heard the kind of women you attract and it's definitely not my sister."

I narrowed my eyes, uncertain if he truly insulted me or Lucille. Quite possibly it was a barbed comment aimed at both of us. I looked Cecil over, thinking it was unwise of him to abandon his broom at the door as I felt increasingly inclined to punch him in the jaw.

"Please forgive me. I'm unclear what you mean by that statement," I said.

Cecil's expression faltered. "Nothing, Professor Kimmer. My God, you have no sense of humor."

"My sense of humor is fine, however, you've said nothing amusing yet."

Cecil glared at me. I half-expected he would tell me to hold my tongue less I wanted to lose my position at the university.

"With all due respect, Professor Kimmer, if you had a brother or a sister, you would know what I meant. As much as I love Lucille, I was forced into being her caretaker. Some days I truly resent having to keep track of her, her paycheck, that ridiculous over-sized bag that she insists on taking everywhere. I've threatened multiple times to toss that bag out when she is sleeping. Be thankful that you do not have to tend to your brother or sister like they are an infant."

"I had a sibling, Monsieur La Behr, and I was his caretaker," I said. "I would gladly give anything in exchange to spend one more day taking care of him, but he has passed away and I will never be able to do anything for him ever again."

Hugo inhaled sharply. "My God, Phelan. When? What happened?"

"I found out last night," I answered.

Had a brother. My heart twisted in my chest. In almost twenty-four hours, I had not once considered speaking of Erik in past-tense. The wound unexpectedly re-opened within me, the sorrow I felt more than I could bear yet again.

"Phelan," Hugo whispered. "My God, I am so sorry to hear this."

I couldn't bear to say thank you aloud, but nodded toward Hugo.

"Dean La Behr, I have lost my little brother and my sister-in-law within twenty-four hours of each other. I would not think to speak ill of Erik or Carmen and I sincerely hope you re-evaluate how you feel toward Luci. She is an exceptional person, one who definitely deserves your praise rather than your criticism."

Neither Cecil nor Hugo spoke.

"Hugo, I had hoped to speak to you privately, but I shall save that for another day. Cecil, I shall leave a note on my studio door to inform my classes of my absence, but know that I will be taking this week off."

"Of–of course," Cecil stammered. "I'm sorry for your loss. For both of them."

I nodded. "I am sorry as well. And I'm truly sorry your sister has to endure living with someone who thinks so little of her. Thirty francs is an insult. Never speak of her that way again. Understood?"

Cecil gaped at me.

"Is that understood?" I asked through my teeth.

"Y-yes," he stammered.

"Good evening to you both," I said over my shoulder as I walked away, heart in my throat and the prick of tears in the back of my eyes.