Page 53 of A Secret Correspondence
Marguerite picked up a plate and filled it with enough delicacies to give them reason to remain in the parlor for a long while. She hoped Armand would see it as his duty to sit with her until her plate was empty. He carried their glasses to a set of chairs near the wall, and they sat together.
Taking a small sip of lemonade, Armand smacked his lips gently. “It is good. I will admit so.”
Marguerite took a bite of the apple tart and sighed. “These are wonderful. I lived near an apple orchard in my youth. We used to have barrels of them in our stores, and I would sneak out and eat until I was ill.”
“I recall,” Armand said.
Marguerite took another bite of the tart to keep her mouth full. Had he realized what he had admitted to? She swallowed. “You ate many apples as well?”
“We used to play in the trees. Do you remember?”
She laughed. “You are mistaking me for someone else, monsieur.”
“I do not think I am.”
Marguerite’s heart throbbed. The footman standing near the door was not looking their way, and no one else was in the room to overhear. If she admitted it now, would he speak openly with her? Accept the truth that the diamonds were gone?
“You have an unusual shade of blonde hair,” he continued, his eyes raking over her coiffure before landing again on her face. “Has anyone told you so? You are beautiful, though I do not recall your name being Marguerite.”
“Madame Perreau,” she said. “That is not a falsehood.”
“I suppose not.” He shrugged. “When did your husband die?”
“Three years ago. He had the pox. I was fortunate enough to escape illness, but I did not escape widowhood.”
“A tragedy.”
“Indeed.” She picked up a ginger biscuit and took a bite, the snap echoing around them. She hated lying, but it was a necessary safety precaution.
“You do not wish for others to know your heritage?” he asked.
Would everything crumble around her now? Was Armand going to dismantle the protection she had worked hard to create for herself? “It is none of their concern. I enjoy my life the way it is.”
He nodded, rubbing his chin. “I had wondered what you were trying to hide, but I suppose I can understand.”
“It is not safe to be French in England, Armand.” Marguerite set down her plate and faced him better. “There will always be those who lost loved ones fighting the French these last three decades, perhaps longer. Those who are sending loved ones to fight the French now. Those who support the loyalists; those who do not. I cannot know who will accept my father and who would cease to patronize my shop were they to learn the circumstances of my birth.”
His brown eyes were fastened on her. “You wear it as a mask, this name.”
“I do. It has protected me, and I hope it will continue to do so.”
Voices filtered down the corridor, warning them of more people coming to the parlor.
Armand lifted his glass of lemonade and took a sip. “Never fear, Marie-Louise.”
She cringed, but quickly tried to hide it.
“Your secret is safe with me.”
The afternoon had bledinto evening, and despite their candid conversation in the parlor, Armand had not jeopardized Marguerite’s identity for the rest of the evening. He had also remained stoutly at her side for the whole of it. The fresh honesty between them created a newfound kinship that seemed to provide him with a renewed interest in her attention.
They had enjoyed refreshments and played multiple rounds of battledore and shuttlecock, always on a team together.
Everyone gathered in the ballroom for the final match to discover the winner of the evening. Ruth and Oliver were on one team, playing against Miss Harrelson and Mr. Delacour.
Lord Ryland and his wife, Lady Ryland—whom everyone still called Aurelia in the company of friends, as it was more comfortable for her—had arrived late and were speaking quietly with Eliza. Marguerite sat on a cushioned chair against the wall watching the shuttlecock fly across the ballroom in a generous arc, anxious to return to her shop. Her ears perked up to the conversation taking place just behind her.
“Did you receive a visit from Samuel last night?” Eliza asked.
