“It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur,” Anna said, keen to get a word in.

“Of a certainty, the pleasure is mine,” I replied. “I was half-afraid I was facing a lonely dinner, but instead I find myself here, in your company, which is an improvement far beyond what I might have hoped for.”

She laughed, and took a mouthful of wine. “The dark side of bachelorhood, I’m afraid. But you are here now, and it is far past time you were introduced. François will take you on the tour – there are a great many gentlemen who would like to make your acquaintance, and more than a few ladies, I’m sure.”

“You’re in mining, isn’t that right?” Bouchard said, leading me off. “I’ve a number of clients in the business, so I was surprised not to have heard your name, all things considered.”

Those things being in fact one thing: wealth.

“My father takes great pains to protect the family’s anonymity,” I said, smiling at a cluster of young women standing together – I did have a part to play, after all. The girls all clutched at each other’s arms, heads pressed together as they whispered. “We conduct all of our business through agents known for their discretion. I’d be more surprised if you had heard our name.”

“Your presence indicates you’re not of a like mind with your father,” he commented. “He can’t be best pleased at your decision to leave?”

“He’s been surprisingly supportive of my adventure out into the world,” I replied. Supportive as long as I walked down the path he wanted. “He personally ensured I was well equipped to invest in my future,” I mimicked my father’s dry voice as he’d shoved the chest of gold through the barrier. “But now isn’t the time to talk business.”

Which only made him want to discuss it all the more. I took the glass of champagne he handed me, discreetly looking around the room. Was Anushka here? I thought not. Cécile’s argument that the witch was under the protection of the Chasteliers had been compelling, and that would suggest she resided amongst a higher class of people.

“I’d be happy to assist you in facilitating those investments,” he said, eyes bright. “Perhaps if you gave me an idea of the magnitude of investment you’re considering, I’d be better able to direct your introductions.”

The question was crass, but given I was supposed to be some sort of back-country recluse, it was prudent that I not react. I leaned in and murmured a number.

Bouchard’s eyes bugged. “Your options are many, Monsieur de Montigny.”

“Excellent,” I said. “I’ll make an appointment with you as soon as it’s convenient.”

And so it began, a whirlwind of introductions and small talk, with everyone clambering to meet me because I was young, attractive, wealthy, and most of all, new. Even if I’d been dull as a brick, my novelty would’ve made me shine.

And I felt the same way. I’d spent my entire life surrounded by the same trolls, rarely meeting anyone new; and when I did, the barrier of power and class kept me from truly getting to know them. Cécile had been the only exception, and well I remembered the allure of her differentness. The appeal of knowing that so much about her was unknown. I felt a similar sensation as I walked through the party, full of humans who thought I was one of them, everything strange and different and exciting. It was a thousand times more intoxicating than the wine poured liberally into my glass.

So I danced with all the young women and a few of their mothers, made ribald jokes with the men in the corners, flirted with the girls and discussed politics with their fathers. Time flew, and before long, I found myself in a room dark with tobacco smoke, a brandy in one hand, and cards in the other.

“You’re either the luckiest bastard to ever walk the Isle or you’re counting, Tristan,” one of the other young men muttered, eyeing his cards.

“I’m sure you’d do the same if you only had enough fingers and toes to manage the task,” I said, enjoying the laughter of the other men. I was counting the cards, I couldn’t help it, but I decided to throw my hand down rather than risk being thought a cheat. “I’m out.”

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?”

Smiles grew on the faces of the other men, and looking over my shoulder, I saw Cécile’s mother. There was no mistaking her. Setting my brandy on the table, I rose to my feet. “Madame de Troyes, your reputation precedes you.”

Her blue eyes managed to be familiar and foreign at the same time. “I should say the same of you. In the city not half a day, and already you have the gossip mills churning. You’ll have no peace.”

I shrugged. “The only thing worse than being talked about is being not talked about.”

Her mouth quirked, but her gaze was cool. “How clever.”

“I’m afraid I can’t take credit as the originator. My skill lies in repeating the words of those more creative than I.”

“False modesty is unattractive,” she said, holding out a gloved hand. “It’s how a weak man earns his praise.”

“And how does a strong man earn it?” I asked, kissing her fingers and wishing I’d been forewarned that she’d be here.

“With his actions.”

“Beautiful and wise, I see.” She must have heard Cécile’s half-invented story of meeting me in the summer and decided to seek me out. There was no other reason for her presence.