Chapitre Vingt-Six

La Dame

Andre

"Well, this vote's sure to prove to be pointless," said Leon.

Andre, Leon, and their father all rode in the carriage together, heading back to their father's apartment in the capital.

"Come now, so cynical, are you?" Lucien said, smiling at Leon.

"One of the candidates is the Empress' own son," said Leon. "If she's the one making the ultimate decision, then we already know who's going to get the promotion. I don't know why she's even bothering with a vote."

"She's not going to give Prince Damond the title," said Lucien, almost laughing. "Please... I've heard much of that boy's reputation, he's not fit for any office of actual authority, and she's certainly not going to send him off to fight the barbarians."

"It's true," said Andre. "I've met Prince Damond he's... well, he's as fit to be a marquis as I am."

Andre and his father both had a good laugh at that. Leon did not appear to be amused.

"Then why even suggest him as a candidate?" Leon asked.

"Why?" Lucien repeated. "Simple. To root out the sycophants. Many a lowly aristocrat is ready to throw their vote behind the highest bidder, or whomever they think will help them meet their own ends. By suggesting her son as a candidate she's channeled all of their useless votes into a single, equally useless direction, so that she can see those who are actually voting their conscience."

Andre smiled. "The Empress is a clever woman."

"One does not stay in power long without being clever," said Lucien.

The carriage came to a halt just in front of Lucien's apartment. As the three of them stepped out and Lucien's cane clicked on the stone pathway, Leon said, "So, what do we do between now and the vote tomorrow?"

Lucien adjusted his hat and ran his fingers over the plume. "I intend to sway the vote. I'll talk to whomever I can, convince them that Olivier is the best candidate. Maybe offer a few bribes." Lucien pointed at Leon. "We cannot allow either Raul's candidate or Jehan's candidate to win! Raul is little more than a bandit lord with noble blood, and Jehan's religious extremism will destroy all the fun of living. You would do well to get close to this 'Micaedon' fellow and find out what you can."

"Do you have any special tasks for me?" asked Andre, leaning into his father's view. "Or do I just do as I wish, like yesterday?"

"Oh, I do indeed have a special task for you," said Lucien, grinning wickedly. "You've heard of Duchess Colette, yes?"

"I've heard the name once or twice," said Andre. "That... and rumors that she is the heart's desire of many a man."

Lucien laughed. "In all honesty, that has more to do with her wealth than her beauty." The three of them ascended the stairs to the apartment. "Now, I want you to think about this: Colette was the first-born child in her family, but she had three younger brothers. In Salia, noble women aren't supposed to inherit, unless there is literally no one left of the appropriate bloodline who can take the inheritance. Even bastards have a stronger claim than a woman."

"What about the Empress?" Leon asked as he switched out his formal coat for his warmer one.

Lucien waved his hand dismissively. "The Imperial family has different rules governing succession. Anyway, Colette managed to inherit the Poignard Duchy in spite of her brothers. Her eldest brother died in a duel; one that Fitzroy tells me was between him and a young man who claimed to have deflowered Colette. That same young man later disappeared without a trace. Her second brother was found guilty of treason, and even as the noose was wrapped around his neck he claimed innocence rather than confess his sins and pray for forgiveness. The youngest brother went mad and was committed. That one's suspicious because while in the insane asylum, where his sister visited him regularly, the youngest Poignard son died of mercury poisoning."

Andre shivered. "So, Colette is probably a murderer. She killed everyone in her path to get where she is now."

Lucien shrugged and started searching the room for something. "That's Le Jeu Fatal for you."

How could he treat something that horrible as so ordinary? Andre understood his part in Le Jeu Fatal as integral to his father's blackmailing schemes, but to poison people just because they were in the way? To drive them mad? To frame them for treason, or set them up to die in duels? Worse yet, to do that to one's own brothers? He couldn't help but consider whether Cecile or one of his younger sisters could stomach such ambition.

"So, what does this all have to do with me?" Andre asked, afraid of the answer.

Lucien finally found what he was looking for, the envelope where he kept his bank notes. Essential if he was to go around buying votes. "Fitzroy has had a hard time getting spies into her home lately, and he tells me that many have died trying. It's time for a different approach. Colette has a... fondness for younger men."

"You want me to seduce her and see what I can find out?" Andre groaned and rolled his head back.

"Of course," said Lucien.

Andre was about to speak in his defense, but Leon spoke first, and more loudly, "How can you even consider that plan? Father, you're sending Andre into the bed of a woman who poisoned her own brother!"

Lucien raised his hands to diffuse Leon's anger. "Calm yourself! I would never send either of you into harm's way!" Lucien glanced around the room and inclined his ear towards the walls. "And keep it down, will you? Eavesdroppers."

Andre hissed. "I'm not going to die for the game, father. I can't believe you would even-"

Lucien cut Andre off with a smack on the back of his head. These smacks never hurt for long, but Andre always found them demeaning, and silently wished to slap his father back every time. "You'll die for not playing the game!" Lucien hissed back. Gathering himself he said, "No, you're not going to die. Colette's younger brothers were easy targets because there was no one to avenge them. Once they were gone, Colette had all the power. She wouldn't dare harm you, because she'd be afraid of what I would do in retaliation. Even anything truly underhanded, such as framing you for some crime or another, would be suspect, and she'd suffer my wrath. Much like her I've developed a... reputation for handling my enemies well."

"I'm not convinced." Andre folded his arms.

"You just need one night with her," said Lucien. "One night to find out anything you can. Steal a key from her dresser, take a peek at her diary, listen to her pillow-talk, anything useful."

"Forgive my ignorance..." Leon began.

"Always," said Lucien with a wry smirk.

Leon rolled his eyes. "If she's an unmarried noble lady won't she be guarding her virginity in hopes of gaining a husband?"

Lucien and Andre both burst out laughing at the question.

"That's good!" said Andre, wiping a tear from under his eye. "Oh, sweet Lyr, that's funny! Leon, noble ladies looking to move up in the world, or who need a husband's care, those are the ones who protect their virginity, and even they often fail at that."

"Indeed," said Lucien, trying to steady his breathing. "But Colette is a duchess, which means that many a man will be interested in her for what they have to gain from marrying her. Whether or not she's bedded anyone before them doesn't matter, not with all that wealth and power she has to offer."

Leon frowned. "You know, there's nothing wrong with simply saying, 'No, Leon, it doesn't work that way, here's why,' rather than mocking me all the time."

Andre chuckled. "But mocking you is our favorite pass-time."

"And if you don't want to be mocked," said Lucien, curling up the ends of his mustache with his fingers, "Pay more attention! Learn how the game is played."

There was a brief, uncomfortable pause after Lucien's comment. Leon glared at the two of them, his fists and teeth clenched.

Andre cleared his throat. "Where can I find Duchess Poignard?"

"Try the park," said Lucien, gesturing towards the door with his cane. "And look for a large number of young, handsome suitors gathered around a woman in her mid-thirties."

"Thank you, Father," said Andre. "I'll return after I've bedded the viper."

Andre marched out of the apartment and off to the park with outward pride, but inwardly he was both terrified and furious. How was he expected to seduce a woman who had suitors fawning over her all the time? How could he set himself apart from every other man who just wanted her money? Worse yet, if she did choose him from all the others how could he be sure she wouldn't poison him, or worse? His father's reassurance that she'd be afraid of the repercussions did little to quell his fears.

The park in Senon never failed to impress Andre. The trees were arranged in perfect rows, like soldiers standing at attention on either side of the walkways. Even the branches and twigs on those trees were cut just so, forming them into perfect, rectangles. They were like great columns that one would see in the palace, holding up the sky like a sapphire ceiling.

Ceramic sculptures stood on either side of every park bench. The pond was a perfect circle, surrounded by concrete. Swans swam in that water as weeping willows draped their leaves overhead.

Gazebos dotted the grassy landscape, as did purple and red flowers.

Commoner and aristocrat alike ran and played, enjoying the park that their Empress' had put so much money into refining.

Children chased each other across the fields. Lovers sat under the shade of willows on picnic blankets. Andre's eyes fell on one family who lay staring at the sky, pointing at the clouds. He couldn't put his finger on why, but something about this image made him tear up, so he turned away.

Something bright red and gleaming caught his eyes. A red-haired woman. As Andre stared he knew that this was, unmistakably, Cherise.

She stood on the stone rails of a bridge with a book open in her hand. As she read its contents, her lips moved along with every word, though her breath carried no sound. She spun and danced on that rail, and several times Andre was certain she was about to fall, but she never did. A few times Andre saw her raise the back of her hand to her own forehead in a most dramatic fashion and stare up at the azure skies above her.

Everything about the scene unfolding before his eyes was so strange.

And yet, so beautiful.

Andre was only a few paces away from her by the time he realized he'd been slowly approaching, like a sailor drawn to a siren's song. He felt foolish standing so close, and couldn't tell if she had noticed his presence or not.

In case she had, he thought it better he say something rather than stare in silence. "What do you read?"

Apparently, Cherise had not noticed that he was there, for the second he made any sound she started and began to fall back, about to topple off the bridge.

Andre reached out and grabbed her hand to steady her. "Whoa, now! Don't fall!"

Cherise pulled herself back onto the bridge by his hand, stepped off the railing, and straightened out her dress with her nose turned up and away from him. "Do not think you did me a favor by catching me. I would not have stumbled even for a second if not for you."

"I understand that," said Andre. He ran his own fingers along his palm, where her fingers had been mere seconds ago. Her hands were so soft, and her fingers so warm. What was this strange sensation he felt in his chest, just below his heart? "I... meant to make amends for causing you to stumble. I know I am no hero."

"If you wish to make amends Lyr knows you'll need to do much more than that," said Cherise, still avoiding eye contact with him. "Now, what do you want, Lord Renart?"

"I'd prefer if you called me 'Andre,' my lady."

"I know that, Lord Renart," Cherise said, folding her hands in front of her lap, the book still between her fingers. "And I'm afraid I'm terribly common-born, not a 'lady'."

"You're a lady to me," said Andre.

Did she just blush at that? Or was that just her freckles?

"Don't you have other things to attend to?" Cherise said, her eyes only briefly meeting his.

She was right, he was supposed to find Colette and make his way into her bedchambers. A task that seemed more and more unpleasant by the minute, especially now that he'd found someone else to hold his attention.

"Cherise!"

A woman's voice called out from behind Andre. Andre turned to see a dark-haired lady, about Cherise's age, approaching. Behind her hurried along a young man, also around Cherise's age, with short black hair.

"Diane!" Cherise said, walking over and kissing her friend on the cheek. "It feels like it's been ages!"

"Four months is far too long!" said Diane, clasping Cherise's hands. "Your letters are wonderful, but they're no substitute for actually speaking with you!"

"We shall have to catch up on everything," said Cherise, who then turned to the dark-haired man. "Bastien, good to see you too!" She gave him a hug, just as she had with Diane.

Andre couldn't help but wonder at just what a warm heart this girl had. She had been cold to him, but that only seemed natural, considering his reputation and what she caught him doing when they first met.

Diane turned her eyes to Andre. "Who's your friend?"

Cherise took a deep breath and prepared for what Andre assumed would be a long-winded answer. But before she got the words out, Bastien offered his hand to Andre. "Good day, my lord. I'm Bastien."

Andre smiled at him and shook his hand firmly. "Andre of House Renart, pleased to meet you. Bastien... I'm not familiar... from what house do you hail?"

Bastien chuckled and pointed off into the distance. "A brown one over that way." Diane giggled at his joke.

Oh. He's a commoner. Andre felt truly embarrassed. He'd assumed by the young man's clothes that he was an aristocrat. "I'm terribly sorry!" said Andre.

"Don't be," said Bastien, a grin across his cheeks. "It's a compliment to be taken for a nobleman."

"Your father is a merchant prince, then?" Andre asked.

"...No," said Bastien.

Andre stood in silence, wondering how it was that the young man could afford such fine clothing if his parents were neither merchants nor aristocrats.

But his thoughts were interrupted as Diane said, "So, we're off to Cherise's favorite café. Will you be joining us, Lord Renart?"

"I'm sure Lord Renart is quite busy," said Cherise, turning her back towards Andre. "Aristocrats have so much to do, after all."

"I have the day free, actually," Andre interjected.

Cherise glared at him with a fury in her eyes. Though it was meant to be terrifying, Andre found the look strangely adorable, even charming. It wasn't that he felt no fear at all, but even the fear he felt when she gave him that look was more thrilling than anything else.

"Mademoiselle Diane," said Andre, bowing his head low before her. He took her hand and kissed it. "I would be honored to accompany the three of you."

"Oh, so charming!" said Diane with a giggle.

Andre looked up just as Cherise and Bastien exchanged uncomfortable glances. Cherise knew Andre's reputation, did Bastien? Did they fear that he would seduce Diane? Andre stifled his own laughter at the idea. He'd be lying if he said the thought hadn't crossed his mind, but there was so little to gain from bedding Diane, and certainly it would ruin his chances to learn more about Cherise.

Of course, it wasn't as if he could tell them any of this.

And so, Andre accompanied them to Café Echalote.

Cherise and Diane dominated much of the conversation, during which time Andre discovered that Cherise had recently become Baron Magali's right hand, his chief diplomat. She spoke of sending flowers and condolences when the Armand family lost Corina, of arranging masquerade balls, and of sending gifts to struggling counts and barons in hopes of gaining favor from them.

She's like Lucilla, he thought. But she, somehow, seems even more accomplished.

Diane spoke of wedding arrangements, and only then did Andre realize that she and Bastien were engaged to be married, and a horrible thought occurred to him.

What if Bastien was a hustler? A con-man hoping to marry into a richer family? He admitted that he was common, and not a merchant prince's son either. Was that how he afforded such expensive clothes? By conning aristocrats and wealthy commoners out of their money?

Andre had only known Diane for a little more than an hour, and yet he felt that he couldn't let this young lady be conned by such a man.

"I'm terribly sorry," said Andre, setting down his cup. "But I must know. Monsieur Bastien, what does your father do for a living? How is it you are able to afford such finery if he's not a merchant?"

Bastien's smile never left his face. Either he was exceptionally well-practiced at his lies, or nothing about this question made him nervous. "May I see your watch?" he asked.

"Oh... well, yes." Andre produced his golden pocket-watch from his pocket and handed it to Bastien. He kept the chain attached to his vest, lest Bastien try to run off with it.

Bastien opened the watch and pointed to a small inscription in the inside of the cover. "Bouvier of Eleventh Avenue," he said. "My father made this watch. How much did this cost you?"

"It was a gift..." said Andre, looking confused.

"Then it was a generous one," said Bastien, closing the watch and handing it back to Andre. "For my father charges a fortune for these. They keep perfect time, and the craftsmanship is so beautiful that aristocrats covet them. Most barons and counts cannot afford a Bouvier watch, only the Imperial Family, the marquis, the dukes, and the riches merchant princes can afford them, and if they want to buy them they have to come to Senon."

Andre stared at Bastien with his mouth open and his eyes wide.

"What?" said Cherise in a mocking tone. "So surprised that someone can make a fortune with the work of his own two hands rather than on someone else's efforts?"

Andre turned to her. "Clearly I am ignorant. I certainly appreciate this lesson, and pray that you will teach me more."

"Perhaps another time," said Cherise, finishing her coffee. "We've been speaking for hours now, and I feel it's time we were on our way." She stood from the table.

Diane gave her a questioning look, to which Cherise gave her silent, stern reply. "She has a point," said Diane, "I have more planning to do for the wedding."

"I should probably get to work myself," said Bastien. He smirked at Andre. "Some day it will be Bastien watches the aristocrats covet."

"I hope so," said Andre. "Well, do have fun, all of you."

The three of them left him alone at the table. He ordered himself another cup and sat in silence, thinking about Cherise. She wasn't fond of him, but he couldn't shake his fondness for her. Everything about her was so unique and beautiful. To be capable of such warmth to her friends and such cold venom to her enemies. She was headstrong and sure of herself, but at the same time could get so enveloped in whatever fantasies she was reading about.

Most interesting of all, she seemed to know how to play Le Jeu Fatal without being vicious about it.

"Hello, Andre."

Andre snapped himself back to reality and looked up at the woman who approached. It took him a moment to recognize her, and when he did he couldn't help but search the café for her hot-tempered brother. "Josseline..."

"It's been a long time," she said, leaning on his table.

Her body was so close to his that he could feel her warmth. The scent of her perfume brought back memories of their ill-conceived hour of passion. The one that had led to her brother, Émile, attacking him with stones. Then to the duel, wherein Leon stepped in on Andre's behalf and humiliated the young Lord Bourdon.

"If I'm being at all honest, my lady," said Andre, "I'm not as fond of those memories as you seem to be."

Josseline leaned in close to him and whispered in his ear, her lips mere inches away from his skin. "Not even the memories of my touch?"

Andre shivered and pulled away from her. "You led me into a trap. I'll not be deceived again." Andre didn't care if anyone overheard. Frankly, if everyone knew she was such a con artist it would save others from her charms. He headed towards the door, determined to have nothing more to do with this woman.

"My father set the trap," said Josseline. "I had no idea what he intended."

Andre stopped, turned to her again, and raised an eyebrow, "You expect me to believe that?"

Josseline nodded. "All I knew was I saw a handsome young man with a reputation for pleasing his lovers, and I desired him."

Her every word dripped with seduction, and Andre shivered at the memories of that day. He couldn't say he didn't enjoy himself. Well, before her brother attacked him, anyway.

What fascinated Andre, however, was how open she was about it. They were in a public place, where anyone could be listening in and find out that she was not a virgin. Had her reputation become so terrible that she didn't mind telling the world her personal business?

"What do you want?" Andre asked. "Aside from another tumble, of course." He chuckled at his own joke.

"I have a proposition for you," said Josseline, folding her hands in front of her lap. "But let's not speak of it here. Too many ears might overhear."

"Very well," said Andre with a nod. "Let us speak privately."