Free Bal Masque by Fleeta Cunningham Page B

not when the plans were finally coming together. “Oh, you silly goose, you don’t have any idea what we were discussing, do you?”
    “It looked very much like two people charmed to be sharing a moment alone.”
    “And so we were glad to have those few minutes,” Lucienne agreed, “but we were discussing you.”
    “Armand spoke to you about me?” Pierrette flushed a bright pink and fluttered her fan to cool her burning cheeks.
    Lucienne recast the conversation to suit her needs of the moment. “I agreed with him that you are a beautiful girl, and the man who wins you will be fortunate indeed. He was wondering why no announcement of an engagement has been made.”
    “Really? You were truly speaking to him of me? And he was interested in the plans Papa is making for my future?” Pierrette looked near to swooning.
    “Just so,” Lucienne affirmed. “I think he’ll be quite pleased, come the evening of the grand bal masque . And I know I will be.”
    “If it should truly be so, then I would be a very happy woman.” Pierrette sighed. “Though how he could ever prefer me to my most beautiful cousin, I can’t imagine.”
    It wasn’t likely Armand would ever admit that was not the case, Lucienne told herself. When the man found himself married to Pierrette, he’d be far too much the traditional gentleman to make a fuss about it. He would never embarrass his wife, no matter how awkward the situation.
    “And so you shall be, for we’ll make certain of it.” Lucienne saw the dancers begin to drift toward the refreshment table. A familiar figure edged through the crowd. “I fear Uncle Gaston has found us at last. I’m going to be a coward and leave him to you. I see Grandmère is taking over the corner and holding court with all her admirers. I’ll go sit with her while you have your duty dance with your papa.”
    “And then I’ll send him to you for the next one.” Pierrette giggled. “It’s only fair to share.”
    Lucienne made good her escape and joined the small group clustering around Madame Thierry. General laughter rippled through the group at some quip the older woman made. “Glad to see you having such a good time, Grandmère.”
    “I enjoy a party now as much as I did when I was a girl your age.” A polka filled the room. Though a number of partners asked for the dance, Grandmère turned them away, saying she’d like to sit with her granddaughter a bit. The knot of chattering friends thinned until Lucienne and her grandmother sat alone.
    “I like that young man of yours. I believe René has done something right, for a change, in arranging this particular marriage for you. Young Dupre has a head on his shoulders. Backbone leavened with a little wit, and as handsome as the very devil, though he doesn’t make a show of it.” Her look searched the room. “Not like some I’ve noticed.” Lucienne followed her glance and saw Philippe Pardue making his way, his brilliant blue evening attire marking him like a peacock among drab pigeons, across the room.
    “I’m sure Papa will be glad to have your approval,” Lucienne murmured. “I think I promised this dance to Uncle Gaston, if you will excuse me.” A dance with her uncle would be a small price to pay for the chance to speak to Philippe. He’d be so pleased to know how well their plans were going.
    “Surely this is our dance, mam’selle.” Philippe drew her into the dance the moment Uncle Gaston released her.
    “I’ve been looking for you all evening,” she scolded. “I began to think you weren’t coming.”
    “Not come, and miss the chance to dance one last time with the belle of Mille Fleur? Perish the thought.” He managed to look dismayed and amused at the same time. His black eyes danced with mischief even as his lips spoke apologetic words.
    “Can we get to the veranda without making a stir? I must talk to you where we won’t be overheard.” Lucienne gestured toward the latticed doors.
    “Done and done.” He guided