long time to go out. That day, they had spent nearly an hour bickering with one another even though they were paying only one visit, and that was to Penelope Ferse, who lived three streets away. Penelope was a pigeon fancier, and both Lise and Linette, given their interest in birds, found this hobby an exciting topic of conversation.
Once her great-aunts had left with many good-byes and a kiss on her cheek, Nina went to sit on the steps behind the house, reading by the canal. It was a hot day and the house felt stuffy even with all its windows open.
“Miss, Mr. Lémy is here to see you,” Roslyn, her great-aunts’ maid, said.
Nina’s hair was in a long braid down her back, her head protected by a straw hat, and she wore a thin muslin dress, rather informal, but then she had not thought she’d have company. She paused before the mirror outside the parlor to make sure her hair was not, as her sister put it, a wasp’s nest; then she grabbed the green wrapper the maid had brought down for her and greeted Luc.
“Antonina. It is gracious of you to meet with me,” he said.
“It is always good to see you,” she replied.
She gestured to the maid, who was waiting for orders from Nina, and quietly asked her to bring a pitcher of lemonade. Luc and Nina sat down, he in an overstuffed chair and she on the sofa.
“I have come with good news,” he said.
“What kind?”
“I have spoken to your cousin, and he has given me permission to court you. I imagine he will be sharing the news with you himself soon, but I asked him that I be allowed to speak to you first. I hope you are pleased.”
Pleased? When Gaétan had told her Hector was interested in courting her, she could hardly contain herself, feeling as if she would burst into a million pieces. The news of Luc’s proposed courtship startled Nina somewhat, and she did feel her breath catch in her throat—despite the fact that she had imagined this day might come—yet she was not elated.
“I am flattered,” Nina said.
“I want you to know I think you are pretty.” He smiled, bright as sunshine.
She looked down, toying with the fringe of her shawl.
Luc rose and sat next to Nina, his hands falling over hers, holding them still. “It would not be objectionable if we kissed,” he said.
“It would be too strange at this point,” she replied.
He sighed but did not remove his hands from her own, shaking his head. “What is it that I am doing wrong?”
“You are doing nothing wrong. You are a lovely young man.”
“But?”
Nina did not say anything. She did not know what to say. A year before, she might have been thrilled at this opportunity. He was like the prince from a fairy tale, the hero from a cheap novel—tattered pages and all—she’d read. She had learned about romance on the printed page but the realities of heartache had matured her; she could not look at him with the naive eyes of a child.
“Do not tell me it is that ruffian, Hector Auvray, who has you like this!” Luc exclaimed.
“No,” she replied. “It is not so.”
Luc stood up and paced in front of her. “He makes my blood boil. I should have beat him bloody today.”
“Today?”
“He was with my brother at the Crimson Fox.”
“You did not harm him, did you?” she asked, clutching the shawl.
“No! I should have. It might have given me satisfaction. He’s a wretch from the gutters.”
Nina sighed. “You should not be unkind. He is a friend of your family’s.”
“My brother’s friend, not mine. And you speak to him! You left a party with him!”
Someone had seen them. She recalled what Luc had said about old hens.
“You speak to many ladies, Luc,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Oddly enough, Luc blushed a bit and he looked ashamed, suddenly running a hand down the lapel of his coat, as if he were cleaning away crumbs.
“You must not be jealous. I talk to a lot of people,” he said.
“I am not jealous. I am pointing out how silly it is for you to complain that I speak with one man when you speak to many women. Why is it men can do as they please?”
“Come, now, I’ll speak to no other girls from now on.”
“I didn’t say you should stop. I merely made a point that it seems unfair you should be jealous.”
“I can’t help it.” He stepped