“With due respect, Your Highness, her fixation is what led us to the truth about Prince Benjamin.”
“I’m not denying that.” He rubs his chin, taking a long moment to think. “Let me discuss this matter with Felicia, Theodor, and the PM. Give us some time. Perhaps we can devise a way to credit your wife without exposing our weakness or spooking the mole.”
He affixes a tight smile to his lips. “Give my regards to your grandfather.”
I bow. “I will.”
Exiting his office, I realize that even though Richard denied my biggest request, it bothers me less than I feared it might. I know this conversation isn’t over. And I know why I’m so unruffled.
I’ve learned something handy from my wife over the last month.
Never give up.
CHAPTER30
CAMILLE
The Christmas feast in the castle’s majestic dining hall is a feast in name only. The food is amazing but the atmosphere is stilted, stuffy and cold, to put it mildly.
The only thing that keeps me from yawning or fleeing is the entertainment of watching the reactions of Louis’s parents and grandfather to the way he treats me. The contrast to his polite indifference on my first stay at Falcon’s Nest less than a month ago is disconcerting; I’ll give them that. Every time he whispers something in my ear or touches me or strokes my hand, his mother jumps. Or shrinks. Or squints as if unsure if she should believe her eyes.
Greta’s confusion is so great that I feel sorry for her. She hasn’t been a good parent to Louis, but probably a better one than his alcoholic father. And, for sure, a better one than my own druggie mother.
Louis’s father, Hubert, doesn’t flinch and shift as much as Greta does. He simply maintains an expression of puzzled unease while downing his umpteenth glass of wine.
Louis’s grandpa, on the other hand, looks mighty pleased. He throws us approving looks and little smiles. I even saw him rub his hands together under the table while his crinkled face glowed with a sense of achievement. But he doesn’t verbalize his satisfaction or say anything friendly.
He doesn’t say much at all, including when we grill him again on why he schemed for Louis to marry me. We know he’s lying when he insists it was simply to right the injustice of my situation. We beg him to come clean. But nothing doing. Whatever his secret knowledge is, I fear he intends to take it to his grave.
On a more positive note, we received word from Joseph. He and his family made it safely to an undisclosed country far, far away. They’re starting a new life there, protected by the authorities who hate Kurt Ozzi because of a dirty attack he had launched on their national currency some years ago.
Three days ago, Louis sent a letter of apology to Magdalena.
She accepted it but said no to the movie. Louis and his cousins will need to recruit another star who would meet their artistic director’s requirements. Luckily, Celeste has now gotten over Louis’s sudden marriage and the subsequent Magdalena debacle. She phoned Louis and they had a long talk. I hope they’ll find their female lead soon so that the shooting can get underway.
The dinner drags toward its conclusion. We won’t be exchanging gifts after the meal is over. Hubert and Greta canceled that tradition during the first years of their marriage. For this family, it was probably the right decision. It spared them additional disappointments.
At last, the dinner is over. The old duke retires to his bedchamber, Greta hurries off to a friend’s house, and Hubert stays put.
“He won’t budge until he’s finished that bottle of wine,” Louis whispers to me before glancing at his watch. “We have to go.”
We exit the château and jog the short distance to a two-story house on the other side of the frozen pond. The latter was converted into a skating rink.A proper one for proper skates!
We’re going to spend an hour with Jacques and Serafina before turning in.
When Jacques opens the door, we follow him into a room with dark wood flooring and cream stucco walls with a distinctive Victorian feel. Maybe it comes from the marble busts, the painted vases, the oil paintings and upholstery, or all of it combined. The electric lighting has been switched off. The room is illuminated by multiple candles, big and small, with a flickering glow that gives it a touch of magic.
Louis greets Jacques and Serafina’s sons, both a few years older than him, their wives and their young children. I meet them, one by one, doing my best to memorize everyone’s names.
Jacques ushers us to a coffee table set with drinks and pastries. The dining table has been pushed toward the wall. A beautiful Christmas tree has taken center stage. Among the wrapped boxes piled underneath, I spot the ones with the toys I got for the children in Gruyac this afternoon while Louis saw his therapist. Serafina told me what they liked. She also informed me that in their family the adults give each other books, and so that’s what I bought, including one for Louis. I didn’t get him anything more personal. But that’s because I already have a very personal gift ready for him.
I pray I’ll be able to deliver it. I hope he’ll enjoy it.
While Louis chats with Olivier, the younger son, my attention is drawn to the wall unit. It’s home to many unusual knickknacks and figurines representing fantastic beasts. How out of character for Jacques! Maybe they’re Serafina’s. Or maybe the uptight butler has a secret garden.
He follows my gaze. “They’re Gauthier’s. My oldest is a fantasy buff. WritesLord of the Ringsfan fiction in his free time.”
A jaded puff and a glance at Gauthier are meant to convey what Jacques thinks of such futile pursuits. But he misses his mark. There’s too much affection in the way he looks at Gauthier to make me believe he disapproves of his son’s hobby. Besides, would he be exhibiting all that stuff on his shelves if he did?