The Beautiful Ones - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,21

venues would have been a terrible faux pas. He was very conscious of all rules and regulations. Born outside wealth, he’d had to manufacture himself and did not want to appear conspicuous.

“Shouldn’t we wait for your brother?”

“Luc’s abandoned us. He’s off chasing a skirt. The traitor.”

“Then he takes after you.”

“My days of women and wine are over, my friend. My fiancée, the dearly beloved Celeste Faré, would not abide it. I am a model of faithful domesticity.”

“I still think it’s a minor miracle you were able to find yourself a bride.”

“I’m not that horrid. Until recently I was one of the most eligible bachelors in town,” he said, smiling his genial smile.

“If you say so,” Hector said.

“But speaking of women and miracles,” Étienne said, taking out his cigarette case and plucking a cigarette. “I heard you had dinner with Valérie Beaulieu.”

The name robbed Hector of any mirth, his face growing serious in an instant. “Who told you?”

“It doesn’t matter. She is one of the most well known women in the city. Every movement she makes is spoken about.” Étienne lit his cigarette, giving Hector a measured look.

“She chaperoned her cousin, Antonina.”

“Hector, you do not mean to tell me—”

“I intend to court Antonina Beaulieu,” Hector replied brusquely, as if he meant to shock his friend.

Neither man said a thing. The laughter of the women at a nearby table rolled toward them, sounding almost like mockery.

Étienne shook his head. “Do you think that is a good idea? You and Valérie—”

“That was a long time ago. A single summer.”

Étienne seemed hardly convinced. Not that Hector expected he would be. In fact, he had hoped they would not have this conversation. Étienne was one of the few persons who knew about his relationship with Valérie, and the kind of hold she’d had on him. Because it had not been a single summer. Valérie had shattered him. The intensity of emotion he felt in those days had vanished, and in its place there lodged a tepid, distant approach to everyone.

“You were mad about the woman. You risked everything for her.”

“Indeed. It didn’t get me far. Perhaps I’ll have better luck this time.”

With Valérie or with Nina? He did not specify and he realized the same question must have occurred to his friend because Étienne looked uncomfortable.

“I know you, Hector. And I know about Miss Beaulieu. You seem hardly well matched. She is neither sophisticated nor accomplished. I think she is a talent, too.”

“And? Have you forgotten what I do for a living?” Hector asked, raising an eyebrow at Étienne.

Étienne turned his head, blowing a puff of smoke. “No. But a lady should not attempt it, you realize as much. The Beaulieus have money but everyone knows they have not been able to buy Antonina common sense or proper manners. They’re practically New People, though Gaétan’s marriage has polished them a little. Not that it has helped Antonina much. She’s a little chatterbox, they say, and so odd. She toyed with a teacup at a reunion at Defornier’s house, making it float around, and smashed it against the floor. It was an accident, a tic, who knows, but in the end an embarrassing episode.”

“I like her more already,” Hector said, and thought of his early years spent juggling cups in the air for a few coins.

“She’s young, Hector, and you are not.”

“What, I’m a senile lecher?”

“You are an old man. Maybe not in years, but we both know you are ancient. You’re tired inside.”

“I told Valérie almost the exact same thing,” Hector muttered.

Étienne gave Hector a questioning glance, but Hector raised his hand, waving away his friend’s inquiry before he could begin to formulate it.

“I’m not trying to be young again. This is not a spiritual vampirism.”

“Then what is it about?”

Revenge. No. Retribution. God, he couldn’t even pick the right word. No. It was about Valérie. About a chance to be close to Valérie. Also a chance for something else. Fairness. Yes. Why was it that everyone else was allowed a chance at happiness and he was not? Why should Valérie be married, sharing the warmth of her bed with her husband while Hector watched the days slip away in the loneliness of his apartment? He’d had plenty of that. It was enough.

“I like her. She’s easy to talk to. And there is a pleasant sensation when being in the presence of someone who regards you with admiration. People look at me all the time, Étienne. I am onstage, they clap, and when we are introduced,