The Beautiful Ones - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,110

in a whirlwind of activity, and more often than not, Luc Lémy kept perpetual guard at her side. Only on the matter of the dress was he absent; it would not have been fitting for a man to accompany a lady while she had measuring tape wrapped around her bosom.

Astute Valérie, engineering teas and distractions and business that must be handled forthwith. And the girl, she was dazzled as any young woman is dazzled, intoxicated with the attention and the praise.

Luc pranced around like a peacock, his natural charm augmented by the scent of victory. Never had the young man’s fair hair appeared fairer, never did his smile gleam more brightly, his clothes fitting him with an elegant sleekness that could make any lady blush.

That afternoon, Gaétan had summoned Luc and Nina to reveal his engagement gifts: a diamond hair comb for the girl; a heavy, gold cigarette lighter for the boy. These presents were too expensive—decorum dictated any engagement gift must be plain—and might have instead been better suited for the wedding registry. But Gaétan’s generosity with his cousin was on display.

This might ordinarily have irritated Valérie, who took each one of Gaétan’s gifts and attentions toward his family as an attack against herself, possessive creature that she was. But she did not mind this time. She imagined the diamond comb weighing the girl down, like an anchor, tying her to Luc.

In this pleasant mood, Valérie was able to appreciate the adorable picture the both of them presented as they stood in the drawing room, cooing and holding the boxes bearing their gifts, showing them to Camille and Madelena, who made appreciative comments. Luc’s hand rested on the small of Nina’s back, and when she raised her head, his blue eyes monopolized her. Silly Nina smiled tremulously back at her husband-to-be, whispering a word to him.

They set the boxes down on a table, and Gaétan gave Nina a hug, Luc a pat on the back. More smiles, more cooing, but as Valérie sat there, resting lazily against the sofa, she saw the box with the diamond head comb slide slightly to the left.

Nina’s gaze had been lowered, and she was staring at her hands, pensive, with a mystifying stillness that irritated Valérie because it hinted at hidden depths, secrets, and more than that, when she used her talent, it reminded Valérie of Hector.

Was she thinking of him?

Valérie had thought of Hector before her own wedding when, instead of throwing away the ring he gave her as she’d promised herself, she had secreted it off, assuring it would remain with her for the rest of her life.

Antonina’s eyes, did they look haunted? Did they look sad? Had Valérie ever glimpsed that same expression in her own mirror?

She hated thinking she had anything in common with Antonina, but they both did share a past with Hector.

Valérie mentally corrected herself—she shared a past with Hector. Antonina had experienced nothing except an illusion.

Camille spoke to her daughter, and the girl smiled again.

Valérie’s chin quivered, but she told herself not to indulge in paranoia. The engagement was imminent. A little more, a precious handful of days and Nina would be as good as married to Luc Lémy.

It was her fate, her only path, as once it had been Valérie’s fate to marry Gaétan, that dull, sorry, and wealthy man her family had fawned upon. Valérie had marched forward like a soldier, dressed in white, clutching a bouquet in her hands. She’d said her vows and danced at her wedding party, and never once did she let the satisfied mask she wore slip. Nina would, must, do the same.

CHAPTER 20

The mirror did not ordinarily tell Nina she was beautiful. She knew herself—and most people reaffirmed this—passably pretty when she was at her best. Considerable effort, however, had been put toward her hair and dress that day.

The couturier at first had been ready to throw a fit, saying a dress for such an occasion could not be finished in a short time frame, but the item had been delivered with a day to spare. Her evening gown was aquamarine chiffon with a printed floral pattern, embroidered with glass beads, a sash at her waist. It bared her shoulders, made her look airy, and had been strategically calculated to contrast with her emerald engagement ring. Ordinarily the ring would have been bestowed at the end of the party, but Luc wanted all of Loisail to see her wearing his gift and had insisted that she put it