“I certainly hope you declined.”

Opening my eyes, I saw my mother standing next to the desk, Tristan’s note in her hands. I’d left it there knowing she would pick it up, because as much as this ruse was for Anushka’s benefit, it also required luring my mother in. “Of course I didn’t. Why should I have?”

She grimaced and was silent for a long moment. “Accepting a last-minute invitation makes you appear eager. Desperate. Boring. None of which are attractive qualities.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. He knows me well enough to have made his own judgments.”

“Which is rather interesting, given that you’ve never mentioned him before.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever have the opportunity to see him again,” I said, sorting through the sweets so that I wouldn’t have to look her in the eye as I lied. “I met him in Courville this summer. After I was injured, I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye before the Girards whisked me back to the Hollow. I didn’t even know he knew I was in Trianon until I received his letter.”

“And just how well do you know this young man?”

Her inflection and her meaning were obvious and my cheeks burned. “Not that well, mother.”

Relief flooded her face. “Small mercies.”

Catching her by the arm, I led her to the settee and pressed a salted caramel upon her because I knew they were her favorite. “I thought this was what you wanted for me,” I said. “You yourself said this is what you had me trained for.”

“He is a poor choice.”

“Why?”

She set the candy on the table. “After you told me the two of you were acquainted, I took the liberty of tracking him down, Cécile. He is not right for this purpose. He’s too young, too handsome, too used to having everything he wants. I’ve met his kind before: his affections will be fierce, but fleeting. And he will not be discreet. There are better options.”

“Like the Marquis.” My tone was sour.

She nodded. “He will provide what you need at very little cost to your person. And no risk of heartbreak.”

I picked up her candy and ate it myself.

“This young man will only end up hurting you,” she said, taking my hand. “He’ll eventually take a wife and his attentions will turn to her. And there is no chance of it being you. You are not of the same class, and whether he says so or not, he considers himself better than you. Is that really a path you want to go down?”

The caramel was sticking in my teeth and tasted overly sweet. “What if it is?”

“Then you’re making a mistake.”

“You don’t know that.”

She caught hold of my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes. “Are you in love with this man, Cécile?”

I jerked my chin free. This conversation had gotten away from me.

“Well, that explains a great deal.”

I got to my feet, retrieving my box of candies and Tristan’s note. “This is my life, Mama, not yours. Sometimes I think you forget that. Now I’m going to get ready for rehearsals. It would not do to keep everyone waiting.”

The clock bonged six times, and I fought the urge to go to the window to check for any sign of the carriage.

“He’s with Bouchard, who is chronically late,” my mother said, from where she sat reading a book. She’d switched strategies from this morning, now employing passive-aggressive indifference in her attempt to dissuade me from this path. “Don’t fret.”

“I’m not fretting,” I said, smoothing my lace gloves over the rich blue velvet of my dress. The bodice was both tight and low, revealing the slight curves of my breasts, which were amplified by the added padding. It was one of my new gowns, and I could not help but admire the sleeves, snug to my elbow and loose in a spray of lace that hung to my wrists. The crinoline puffed the skirts out from my hips, the velvet slashed to reveal the lace petticoat beneath.

My shoes were matching brocade with ribbons that wrapped around my ankles, and I wore sapphire and diamond earrings that Sabine had deemed a perfect match to the dress. She’d fixed my hair so it was up, a few curls left loose to frame my face, and rimmed my eyes with kohl and tinted my lips.

A knock sounded at the door, and I leapt up. “I’ll answer it,” my mother said, rising far too slowly for my tastes and then ambling toward the door. “Good evening, Monsieur de Montigny,” she said. “Please do come inside. Winter is truly upon us.”

“How is your hand?” Tristan asked, but whatever she answered went unheard in my ears as I adjusted my dress for the umpteenth time. When I glanced up, he had rounded the corner with her, and our eyes met.

His disguise was in place, eyes grey instead of silver and skin altered to a duskier, more human hue. But all else was the same, and even if he had made himself unrecognizable I still would have known it was him. I loved him; so much so that my chest felt tight and my breath short, and everything else in the room seemed wan as a faded painting.

“Mademoiselle de Troyes.” He smiled, glanced at the floor and then back up to my face. “Memory, it would seem, is a pale comparison to reality.”

“How charming he is!” My mother clapped her hands together and we both twitched. “Best be off. You don’t want to be late.”

Once we were outside, I said, “Marie’s ladies were talking about you at rehearsals today. Of a certainty, she knows you are in Trianon. And if she knows, so does Anushka.”