“Oh, Louis,” I said, walking out onto the terrace, “This is beautiful.”

He had stolen a centrepiece and a few candles from the dinner table and set them up on the outside terrace table where he stood with two glasses of Champagne.

“No where near as beautiful as you are, my sweet.”

He brushed his lips across my cheek and I giggled nervously. Louis was the first real man to ever pay attention to me. I’d had boys in Paris who were interested in me, but that’s just what they were, boys, not that Papa would have ever let me date any of them. Louis was older, more sophisticated, more experienced and he was devilishly handsome with his dark hair and jade green eyes. He even had just the hint of stubble, like he would have to shave twice a day to remain clean shaven. The last boy to call on me couldn’t even grow a beard, let alone have a five o’clock shadow.

He handed me the wine and held out a chair for me to sit. He had such lovely manners, although mischief twinkled in his eyes. He was on his best behaviour, I could tell, and part of me wondered what he would be like if he was being bad.

“So how long are you in Merveille?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” I replied, “I’m here to intern with Priscilla during the wedding and then I don’t know what I’ll do. What about you?”

He frowned, “I’m supposed to do a two year apprenticeship with Dom,” he said, “But I’d much rather do something else.”

“You don’t like the work your brother does?”

He shrugged, “Not really. I kind of feel like an indentured slave.”

“What happens after your apprenticeship finishes?”

“I’m supposed to take over for Dom.”

“What will he do?”

“He has plans to go into politics.”

I nod, I could see his very stern brother being a politician.

“Enough of that talk,” he said, his face brightening with a smile, “Let’s talk about something fun. When can I take you out on a date?”

My face fell and I sipped my wine. I hated this part of the conversation and Louis was going to think me such a child when he found out that I wasn’t allowed to date. What twenty year old woman still allowed her father to rule her personal life? Me, because if I didn’t, I’d be cut off. Being destitute with a boyfriend was not preferable to being without one.

“What? What is it? Why do you look so glum? Do you already have a boyfriend?”

I shook my head, “No, it’s not that.” I took a breath. “It’s just that my father…” I couldn’t say it.

“Your father?” he prompted when I was silent for too long.

“Myfatherdoesn’tletmedate,” I said in a rush.

“What?”

I sighed and repeated it slowly. “My father doesn’t let me date.”

He sat back in his chair and drained his wine glass. “Not at all?”

I shook my head, “No.”

“What about your sister?”

I shook my head again. “Kat—Priscilla doesn’t date anyway, but even if she did, he wouldn’t allow it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s his twisted and antiquated beliefs that he’s the one who should choose our husbands.”

“Like an arranged marriage? Didn’t they go out in the dark ages?”

I smiled sadly, “Not in our family. Priscilla has had her match since she was twelve. He hasn’t found anyone for me yet.”

“Pricilla’s engaged?”

“Not officially and not ever if she has her way. That’s why she came to Merveille, to get out of it.”

He poured another glass of wine for himself and drank it thoughtfully. I’d barely touched mine. “There’s no way around it?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself not to burst into tears if I spoke.

“Then there’s nothing for it,” he said and my heart dropped, “We’ll have to see each other in secret.”

“I would love that, but how?”

He sipped his wine while he contemplated his answer and I took a moment to study his face. It was a face that smiled easily and he had adorable dimples when he grinned in just the right way. He was maybe two years older than me, but he was still young and fun, not at all like his older brother.

“I have been sentenced to another week of work in the belly of the beast,” he said referring to the kitchens where we had both worked today, “What if you were to work alongside me? Then we could see each other and no one would think anything of it.”

“But we’d also have to work,” I said, screwing up my nose.

“True, but with the two of us doing the job, it would be done in half the time.”

It seemed like a good idea, apart from the work part of it, but on the other hand it would get me out from under Priscilla’s thumb. She may even commend me for my initiative and as an added bonus I would get to spend my days with Louis.

“Okay,” I said nodding, “Let’s do it.”

“Bianca? Is that really you?”

I stood up and spun around, coming face to face with Piérre.

“Oh my God, Piérre!” I squealed, throwing myself into his arms, “What are you doing here?”

“I came with your father,” he said, putting me back on my feet and then holding out my arms so he could get a look at me. “Wow, haven’t you grown up.”

I blushed. Priscilla wasn’t the only one who’d had a crush on him. Piérre was the quintessential Prince Charming and I had been so jealous of Priscilla and her agreement with him. The fact that Papa had chosen someone like him for Priscilla made me hold out hope that he would make as good a match for me.

“Who’s this?” Piérre asked looking over at Louis.

“This is my friend Louis,” I said as Louis stood to shake Piérre’s hand. Piérre raised an eyebrow at me and I couldn’t help blushing again. He knew my father’s rule. “We’re just friends,” I said without looking at Louis. The last thing I needed was for my feelings to be written across my face when I looked at him. Piérre would know at once what was up and would spill the beans to my father which would ruin all our future plans.

“We have been working together,” Louis said, a strange note in his voice.

“Working? Little Bianca has been working?”

I slapped Piérre’s arm playfully. “Yes, I have,” I said, pulling myself up to my full height. “As you said, I’m all grown up now. You can’t call me Little Bianca anymore.”

He chuckled, “You’ll always be Little Bianca to me,” he said and I scowled, him and my father both. At least Louis saw me as more than a little girl. He leant forward and brushed a kiss on my cheek before walking backwards away from me, “I hope we can catch up some time mon cherie.”

“Who was that?” Louis asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Just an old family friend,” I replied, not wanting to get into it. Priscilla hated it when I talked about her intended and to be truthful, I didn’t know where they stood anymore. The fact that he was here in Merveille suggested that he wanted to restore their relationship, but after the fight I had witnessed between Priscilla and my father, I doubted very much that he would be successful.

“Come on,” I said grabbing his hand as I heard the band begin to play, “Let’s dance.”

I stood at the edge of the dance floor watching the couples as they twirled before me to the music. I had loved to dance when I was younger and had dreamed of dancing with Piérre at the many balls we would attend as husband and wife, but since coming to Merveille all those dreams had been smashed to pieces on the floor. I carefully redirected my mind away from that painful night and allowed myself to be distracted by the swirling, colourful ballgowns and the beautiful music coming from the string quintet. There would be a full orchestra at the wedding reception and several of the other soirées that were planned leading up to the wedding, but I preferred the strings. There was just something so hauntingly beautiful about a well played violin with the backing of a cello and the deep thrum of a double bass.

I stiffened, my body knowing immediately who had stepped up beside me. I refused to look at the man who had not only broken my heart but had publicly embarrassed me… or would have publicly embarrassed me if our agreement had been known. Fortunately my father had not yet posted the announcement of my betrothal when ‘The Scandal’ had hit and that was the only reason I was still talking to him.

“Katerina,” he murmured beside me, his hand sliding down my arm to rest on my elbow. “Let’s dance.”

I took a step sideways, but he didn’t let go of my arm. I refused to cause a scene, so I stopped myself from flinching away from him, but only barely. “My name is Priscilla,” I said, “You would do well to remember that.”

“Of course,” he said with a slight inclination of his head.

He led me to the dance floor and I could think of no way to get free of him without drawing attention to us and that was the absolute last thing I wanted. I raised my hand to his shoulder as he took my other hand in his and waltzed me expertly around the floor. We joined the other dancers seamlessly and I had to begrudgingly give him credit for his skill. But of course he had to know how to dance, it was no doubt part of his seduction technique that had earned him the label of the ‘Playboy Baron’.

“It really is good to see you again, Priscilla,” he said, a crooked smile on his lips.

“I can’t say the same,” I replied, looking away from him, over his shoulder trying to find someone to rescue me.

“Now, now,” he said, “Put away those claws little Kitty Kat, that was all a big misunderstanding.”

“I don’t think the Lady Greenwich, nor the Lady Stippling would agree that it was a misunderstanding.”

He sighed like I was being unreasonable. “You are the only one who remembers the incident. All has been forgotten and all has been forgiven. I am once again welcomed in every royal court on the continent.”

“Well bully for you,” I growled under my breath, but to him I said, “That may be so, but I am not liable to forget or forgive any time soon. Our betrothal is off. I will not be marrying you.”

He gripped my hip tighter, bringing me closer to him so that our bodies touched. It took all my effort not to wrench myself away from him in disgust and all my breeding and good manners not to screw my face up revulsion as he dipped his head close to whisper in my ear, “Are you sure about that?”

I heard the threat in his voice and I gasped, no longer concerned with not causing a scene and tried to pull out of his grasp. Surely my father wouldn’t make me go ahead with the marriage, not after what Piérre had done… but… why else had Papa brought him here if not to enforce the betrothal?

“May I cut in?”

I have never in my life been so glad to hear that familiar voice. I looked up into Dom’s face, trying to hide the fear, but wanting him to know that I very much wanted to be rescued.

“My Lord Chancellor,” I said, my voice breathless with relief, “I would be honoured to share this dance with you.”

Piérre scowled, but stepped aside with a curt bow. I inclined my head in his direction before turning to Dom and raising my arms in the dance position. Dom took hold of my hand as I laid the other on his shoulder and whisked me away from Piérre.

“Thank you,” I said, craning my neck to see where the spiteful man had gotten to.

“You know the Baron?” he asked easily, casually, too casually.

“Unfortunately,” I replied.

“I met him earlier. I can’t say I care for the man. He spoke to me of an arranged marriage he was here to invoke. Distasteful chap. Called it a business arrangement. I dare say I pity the poor girl that gets yoked to him.”

My stomach turned over with unease. Did Dom know that I was Piérre’s betrothed? My skin became cold and clammy at the thought. The man already looked down on me, how much more would he despise me if he knew that my father had practically sold me to Piérre?

“I didn’t even know arranged marriages were legal in our country.” He went on, oblivious to my discomfort. “Surely the poor woman has the right to disagree if she so chooses?”

“One would think,” I murmured, my voice not sounding right.

“I think I might have to have a word to the Queen about it. I know that in the past there were such laws that said that a father could choose the husband of his daughter, but surely those laws have been overturned. I can’t imagine our dear Queen sitting idly by while the women of her country are so dishonoured.”

My panic spiked. “Dom, no,” I said, slipping up and using his nickname without thinking. “You can’t bother the Queen with this now, not before the wedding at least. She already has so much on her plate—”

It wasn’t until he cupped my face that I realised he’d manoeuvred us off the dance floor and out one of the patio doors.

“Shh,” he said, looking down at me with concern.

Priscilla looked up at me, her eyes huge and vulnerable. I didn’t know what it was that had set her off, but she was obviously spooked by something, and it was such a rare occurrence that it took me completely by surprise. What had that awful man said to her to upset her so?

I had seen them dancing and had seen the way she had looked for an escape from him. I saw when he’d pulled her closer to whisper in her ear and my feet had been moving before I realised it. Then when she had tried to pull away from him and he hadn’t let her go, I knew I had to step in. The look of relief on her face was something that I would revisit later, when I was alone. Knowing that for that moment she had looked at me as her rescuer made me feel like some sort of superhero. It was the strangest feeling.

Twirling her around the dance floor had felt good, right almost. We fit together somehow. I held her easily in my arms and with the shoes she wore, I didn’t need to bend uncomfortably to accommodate her. We just fit. And she was an excellent dancer, light on her feet and she didn’t try to lead, which was a bit of a surprise, especially knowing how much she liked to be in control.

Now she had that scared look on her face again and I had no idea what was going on with her. It was so unlike her to react this way that it genuinely concerned me.

“What is the matter Priscilla?”

She blinked up at me, her face still cradled in my hands and I had the overwhelming urge to lower my face to hers and to taste her soft lips that had parted slightly when she looked up at me. She breathed slowly for a count of two before pulling away from me, not that I let her go far. My hands dropped from her face to her elbows, but I allowed her the space she needed to recover her poise.

“I just don’t think we should bother the Queen with this, not now.”

I raised my eyebrows in concern, “Is there something wrong with the Queen?” I asked.

Her eyes went wide before she shook her head. “No, of course not, it’s just that…”

“It’s just that…what?”

She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “Queen Alyssa had a little melt down earlier, while she was getting dressed.”

I felt my forehead furrow at the statement. “Queen Alyssa?”

She smiled a tiny smile and nodded. She knew how ridiculous it was that the Queen would fall apart, especially after everything she had faced so stoically in the last year.

“Something happened to her dress and it seemed to be the last straw. Thankfully the laundresses had been able to repair the damage so she could wear it, but I was worried there for a moment.”

“She’s stressed,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, but not about the things that a normal bride would be stressed about. Our dear Alyssa is not a bridezilla by any stretch of the imagination. She was worried about Will and all that he has to give up to be with her.”

This news relieved me. Not that the Queen was stressed, but that it was something that showed the character of the woman who would be leading our country.

“So, you see, I don’t think it is the time for her to be bothered by this arranged marriage nonsense.”

It was then that I noticed that I was still holding her, that we were still standing incredibly close and that we were alone on the darkened corner of the balcony. I cupped her elbows, her hands rested against my chest and I could feel their light pressure through my tuxedo.

“If you think that’s best,” I said, my voice low and gruff.

“I do,” she whispered, looking up at me.

There was a beat of silence as we regarded one another. I don’t think I had ever stood this close to her, not for this protracted length of time and I didn’t want it to end any time soon.

“Is there anything I can do,” I asked softly, “To help ease the Queen’s burden?”

“I…uh…I’m not sure. I don’t think Meredith is coping with her new duties. I’m thinking that I will talk to Alyssa about it in the next couple of days, see if I can’t take on a couple of the responsibilities so that Alyssa doesn’t have to worry that Meredith is going to drop the ball.”

“If there is anything I can do,” I said, leaning forward involuntarily, “To help you, maybe take some of the wedding planning off your desk to free you up a bit.”

She was so close, her lips were just inches away and it wouldn’t take much to lower my head and brush them with my own. It seemed inevitable that it would happen and I had no clue as to how we went from antagonists to, well, whatever this was.

Priscilla’s eyes went wide and then dropped to my lips and I wondered if she was having the same thoughts that I was, but then something changed. I don’t know exactly what it was, but the air around her became frosty and her eyes narrowed as she looked up at me. She took a decisive step away from me, breaking my hold on her and she slammed her hands on her hips.

“I know what you are trying to do Lord Chancellor,” she said with all the warmth of an Ice Queen, “You are trying to muscle me out of the wedding planning.”

I straightened and looked at her with shock. I schooled my expression as I mentally rifled back through our conversation. “That is not what I intended at all,” I said, anger spiking hard and hot inside me, “I was simply offering my assistance should you need it.”

“Very pretty words, Lord Furore, but I do not believe you for one second. You have been trying to get rid of me from the moment I came to the Palace.”

I grit my teeth and swallowed my retort. She had blindsided me, twice in the space of a few breaths. I snapped my heels together and gave her a sharp bow.

“Good evening Lady Beaumonde,” I said in a haughty tone as I turned and stalked away. The woman was impossible!