The Beautiful Ones - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,93
them, picking one up and examining its contents. “More beetles,” she said.
“I did say I bought twenty,” he replied, standing next to the desk and glancing down at the boxes, then back at her.
“But there are so many here. Your numbers don’t add up.”
“I bought a few more,” he admitted.
He’d bought a few books, too, trying to determine exactly what he was looking at.
“Are you purchasing them in bulk now?”
“I’m starting to appreciate the beauty of insects.”
“You say that to make me happy.”
“I do not say things merely to please you,” he replied, rather serious.
“But you didn’t care about them before,” she countered.
“A man may change his mind.”
Again she appeared guarded, silence stretching between them. The discomfort of neither knowing their place, or proper role.
“I won’t ask you why you’ve come to see me today, but you may always tell me what you are thinking,” he said.
Her eyes flicked to him but they were interrupted before she could speak.
“Hector, a word with you?” Mr. Dufren asked. He was standing at the entrance with papers in his hands. Hector had left the door wide open, thinking it would be less unseemly that way. Nina was an unmarried lady, after all. Appearances mattered. The open door, however, invited conversation from others, like now, Dufren awaiting him.
“I’ll be back soon,” Hector told her.
“Soon” turned out to be closer to fifteen minutes. When he returned and walked in, he saw Nina had moved behind his desk and was looking at his books, her fingers drifting across the spines, like a musician teasing the strings of a guitar.
She stepped back and made a book drift toward her, opening it as if it were a fan, the pages making a soft rustling sound.
There was something about Nina, something he struggled to name. It had to do with her hair like blackbird feathers and the way her hands fluttered when she was excited and how she bit her lips when she thought no one was looking.
Hector was focused. He looked at details. And nothing made him nervous; he could tame a crowd of hundreds with ease.
Yet he was nervous now, staring stupidly at her, and the force of that something held him in thrall.
She must have felt the weight of his gaze because she suddenly caught the book between her hands and pressed it against her chest. “Practice makes perfect,” she said, sounding unsure of herself. She placed the book on his desk and pointed across the room, her voice cheerful yet strained. “What is that? I can’t figure it out,” she said. “Is that an ostrich feather?”
“That’s a pirate’s hat,” he said, glancing at the corner where he kept the changing screen and his clothing.
“No.”
“Do you want to try it on?”
He pushed the screen aside to reveal the mirror and a wardrobe. It was a tattered old screen, faded golden lions against black. He’d had it for a long time. The wardrobe was also a humble piece of furniture, scratched and battered, but big enough to contain an array of clothes.
The mirror was grander. Gilded, tall, allowing Hector to see himself entirely. He’d had to do with a cracked hand mirror when he was young, enduring costume changes in the back of patched-up tents.
Back when he thought only of Valérie.
That had been long, long ago.
He’d taught himself how to dress properly, how to speak properly, what items to order from a menu, and the fashionable dances. All for that one woman.
What good had it done him?
None.
And now, this woman, nothing of what he knew could help with her. That was the crux of the matter. He’d learned so much and yet so little.
“Come on,” Hector said, setting the hat atop her head. “There’s a coat to go with it.”
“When did you dress as a pirate?”
“Two years ago, maybe. I despise costumes, but Dufren says it can’t always be me in a black jacket. Here.”
He pulled out a coat of rich, crimson brocade from the wardrobe and set it on Nina’s shoulders. It was far too large for her, but the color was pleasing. It gave her an impish quality.
“If you ever compete against me, dress in brocade,” he told her. “Though maybe you’ll leave me without any business if you do.”
He had meant to rest a hand on her shoulder, but at the last second, he stilled himself and his hand hovered but did not touch her.