Free Bal Masque by Fleeta Cunningham Page A

affirmation. “Pride swollen by mistrust, I think. And two men who have only suspicion and arrogance between them. I believe we saw the beginnings of the most recent turn of events at the horserace last month. You will recall the scene we witnessed in the barn.”
    Lucienne flinched at the reminder of her attempt to speak privately to Philippe. “Not truly an affair of honor, then? Just two angry men with a grievance.”
    “No, more likely a history of trickery and misjudgment on both sides. No honor attaches to either party in this meeting.” His look met hers. “Not that there isn’t sometimes a reason to fight, or even to kill, Lucienne,” he added. “A man defends his family, or his life, where there’s need. But not his vanity or his convenience. A man shouldn’t manufacture a pretext for taking up arms where none exists. Only if danger is real should a man resort to weapons.”
    “I should apologize for mentioning something so indelicate, I suppose. It’s gracious of you to indulge my whims.”
    “Lucienne, I am not being indulgent.” His face looked harder, intent, his hand on hers almost painful with the sincerity of his thoughts. “I would far rather talk to you of real concerns and honest opinions than trade in the empty conventions most of society calls conversation. I might shock your mother with my views, or perhaps anger your father, but I believe Madame Thierry has a more realistic view of life. She and I might see a good many things at the same level.”
    Lucienne raised her fan to hide momentary confusion. Armand’s comments suggested he approved of the turn their conversation had taken. She’d never suspected such an attitude could exist in Armand Dupre’s orthodox mind. He actually appeared interested in her opinions. In uncharted seas, she fell back on convention and safe conversation. “Oh, Grandmère is a scandal to the whole family and apt to say most anything to shock Papa. It amuses her to get his temper up when she knows he can’t answer back.”
    Armand leaned back in his chair, his face no longer bright with interest. “But she is your favorite relative, regardless?”
    Lucienne laughed outright. “Of course. A young girl adores the grandmère who passes out forbidden sweets and spins colorful tales. Mama says I mustn’t let Grandmère fill my head with her unseemly notions and her outspoken ways.” She gestured toward the tiny lady in the deep rose gown as Madame Thierry whirled by on the arm of Pierrette’s tall brother. Both seemed to be enjoying the dance.
    “She’s quite spry, isn’t she?” Lucienne waved at the couple as they passed.
    “I think she’d be offended by that word. It appears your grandmother holds her own among the belles of the ball.” He rose and gave her a slight bow. “I know you promised the next waltz to me, but may I beg off? I’d like the honor of taking a more mature lady around the floor once.”
    Lucienne gave him a demure curtsey. “I’ll manage to find another partner, I’m sure. Enjoy your dance, but don’t let Grandmère tell you any of her salty stories. She’s been known to make them up, you see, just to see if she can get away with it.”
    Lucienne saw her cousin half hidden behind a festive garland and slipped through the crowd to join her. “Avoiding a dance with Uncle Gaston?”
    “No, not really,” Pierrette protested, but she drew back against the wall as her father came in view. “I must give him a duty dance sometime.”
    They watched the dancers turn and bow to the pattern of the dance. Pierrette motioned Lucienne closer and lowered her voice to the faintest whisper. “I’m feeling very uncertain about this plan of yours. You and Armand were having such an intimate conversation on the veranda. He’s devoted to you, as anyone can see, and I think he’ll be outraged to find himself married to another.”
    Lucienne hid her frustration behind her sparkling mask. Pierrette wasn’t going to back out at this point,