The Beautiful Ones - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,42

Luc were seated apart, and Hector could not possibly speak to them.

For dinner there was a vegetable soup with plenty of cabbage, followed by rabbit and lamb in a condimented sauce. There were also biscuits. It was simpler fare than what could be had in the city, but then, he had expected this and did not mind.

After dinner he attempted to catch hold of Valérie while everyone was exiting the dining hall. He had not had a chance to talk to her in private since their last disastrous encounter. He wanted to attempt a more civilized interaction.

It was not to be had. Nina intercepted him before he could stop Valérie, as he was preparing to climb the wide stone staircase that led to the second floor.

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“And your room? Do you like it? We can have you moved if it’s not to your taste.”

“No, it is fine,” he said, his eyes following Valérie, who was walking up the staircase, pins with pearls decorating her hair, her dress the most blinding white.

“If there is any dish you’d rather have, you can let us know. We have a fine cook.”

“Thank you,” he said.

He could not see Valérie anymore. He’d lost his opportunity. Now he looked down at Nina, almost surprised to find her standing in front of him; he had been distracted by Valérie’s presence and she’d quietly moved closer to him.

The girl looked different. Her thick black mane fell loosely down her shoulders, as it had near the staircase in Loisail. She was not the kind of woman men would stare at in admiration, attempting to secure a dance with her. She lacked style and grace. But there was a mysterious assertiveness in her eyes at times, which he enjoyed, and her hair was nice—it made him curious, he wished to touch it.

“I can show you and your friends the house tomorrow,” Nina offered.

“We’ll take you up on that offer,” he replied.

There was no more to add, but she hovered in front of him and he did not dash up the stairs, stretching the seconds, until, blushing, she spoke an excuse and retreated from sight.

When Hector arrived in his room, he discovered it had been commandeered by the Lémy brothers, who were sitting at a table by the window, playing cards. Luc drank from a silver flask; Étienne was tilting his chair back and forth.

“Do you not have rooms of your own?” he asked.

“Yes. But they are tiny. You have the largest room of the three of us. I’m practically sleeping in a closet,” Luc complained.

“I’m sure that’s a lie.”

“You should join our game,” Étienne said.

“I’d lose my shirt.”

“You can afford another one,” Luc said. “Say, do you have any idea what Nina’s dowry amounts to?”

“No idea and no interest,” Hector said, crossing his arms and leaning against a bedpost, watching the men play.

“A romantic!” Luc said, chuckling.

“Don’t bother him,” Étienne said.

Hector glanced down. A romantic, no. A fool. What was he doing in this place, even? But she’d asked him to come, and he had not wanted to say no even if a dozen excuses might have been easily manufactured.

The next morning, Étienne, Luc, Nina, and Hector walked around Oldhouse, with the girl pointing out the library in the annex, the sitting room, the dining room, which they had already seen, and other areas of interest. They had stables and horses, but no courts for the modern sports preferred in the city. There was a music room with a piano and a harp, but no proper game room where the gentlemen might smoke and play billiards. No conservatory, instead an herb and vegetable garden. And so it went. Oldhouse was plainly an old-fashioned country manor. Luc seemed deflated by this discovery, Étienne was slightly pleased at his brother’s discomfort, and Hector accepted it without judgment.

After their tour, Nina offered to show them the river she said ran near the house, but Étienne and Luc wanted to go riding. Hector and Nina were left to themselves.

The river was close, as Nina had promised. It was wide but its waters were gentle. When they reached it, she picked up a flat stone and turned to him.

“Watch,” she said.

The stone hovered above her hand and she tossed it away, making it skip across the water without laying a hand on it.

“Bravo,” he said. “Nicely done. I’m impressed.”

“You are not humoring me?”

“I would never.”

She smiled at this and made another stone skip across the water. Hector imitated her