“I think you should be able to manage without me,” Valérie said.
“Are you certain? I could stay and read to you.”
Valérie pressed a slender, graceful hand against her forehead. “It would do no good. Go on and be sure to return by noon.”
“I will.”
Nina kissed Valérie on the cheek to mark her departure, a gesture the older woman did not seem to enjoy. Five minutes later she arrived at White Park, Lisette in tow. Nina might have walked it but took the carriage, as Valérie would have. It was fine to walk in the park, but a lady should reach it by carriage. It struck Nina as a bit ridiculous. She had walked to visit the estates of the Évaristes and the Delafois a number of times, and even walked into the village. Why, it practically took longer to get into the carriage and out of it than to reach the park by foot. But once again, Valérie had laid down the rules for her.
By carriage it was, then. Rather than walking the perimeter of the park, which was what Valérie did in an effort to be seen, Nina decided to rebel in the absence of the woman. In the center of White Park, there was a pond. One could rent a wooden boat and row from one side of the pond to the other, or else sit on a bench. That was where Nina went, circling the pond and tossing crumbs to the ducks, sometimes without even touching them. When she ran out of them, she asked Lisette to purchase another bag of crumbs from the boys who sold them around the park.
The maid rolled her eyes at Nina. “That is for the country folk visiting Loisail for the first time,” Lisette said. She had been born and raised in the city, and now reminded the young girl of this with her huffy tone.
“I don’t care who does what and who doesn’t. Fetch me a bag of crumbs,” Nina said, trying to imitate Valérie’s imperious voice. She did not succeed. Instead, Lisette took off murmuring under her breath.
Valérie paid careful attention to the people around her, but Nina would often grow distracted. It was no surprise that, alone and without her maid to swat her arm, she did not see Hector Auvray until he was but a couple of paces from her. She had been occupied following a duck and raised her head too late.
“Miss Beaulieu,” he said.
“You are here!” she exclaimed, which was a terrible thing to say, and panicked by this mistake, she could think to add nothing else, staring at him in mute horror.
“How do you do?” he asked.
“Fine. I am fine. Very fine.”
Dear Lord, he’d think her daft. Nina composed herself as best she could.
“I apologize. I thought you lived in Boniface and did not expect to run into you again this soon,” she said.
“I do reside in Boniface. I am wasting time before I meet my friend who lives nearby. Are you by yourself?” he asked.
“Yes. My cousin had a migraine. I’m, ah, here on my own. My maid is about, somewhere.”
“May I walk with you?”
“By all means.”
Nina felt much improved once she was actually moving and comforted herself with the thought that her gaffes had not been witnessed by Valérie, who surely would have had recriminations to share, perhaps even pinched her. Some of the neighboring children had mocked Nina when she was little because of her ability. Even a few of her cousins had indulged in this pastime, though only when her sister was out of earshot. Nina would have preferred that endless teasing rather than Valérie’s disapproval, which stung.
“Did you have an enjoyable time at the De Villiers’ ball?” she asked, and prided herself on how proper her voice sounded when she spoke this time.
“Most enjoyable,” he said seriously, as if he were making an oath. It made her chuckle.
“You are fibbing. You left early,” she replied, lightly slapping his arm, which would have earned her a double pinching from Valérie, but Valérie wasn’t there and Lisette had also disappeared, which meant no tattletales.
“And how would you know that?”
“You mustn’t think I was spying on you,” she said quickly, and blushed.
She looked horrid when she blushed. Other girls blushed prettily, daintily even, but in Nina’s case it was a series of angry crimson blotches.
“Do not be mortified, Miss Beaulieu, I meant nothing by it. Yes, I left early. I am a newcomer to the city and knew few people there. It was, to be honest, not most enjoyable.”
“I understand. I didn’t know the people there either and when I’m introduced to someone, I invariably say something dreadful. I wasn’t dreadful to you, was I?” she asked.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” he pointed out.
“I did tell you my name. Antonina, Nina,” she protested.
“Not your family name. I had to ask others who you were.”
Rather than blushing this time, she found herself smiling because he had asked about her. It felt like an important detail. They walked in silence around the lake and she looked at him discreetly—or as discreetly as she could manage.
His hair was longer than was fashionable, brown and with a slight curl. He was also swarthier than what was deemed as refined. She did not mind, for she was no wan waif herself. Valérie protected her milky-white face—which the Beautiful Ones prized—with hats and veils, shuddering at the thought of compromising her pale complexion and urged Nina to do the same. Sun-kissed were Nina’s cheeks, and no bonnet could change that. Hector eschewed the mustache that was obligatory for all men, thus branding himself as utterly foreign, though she rather liked that he did not know or did not care about the trends the others followed. She thought him noble looking, even if he also struck her as overly serious; a man who was not used to mirth, his handsomeness marred by a vague whiff of melancholia.
“Your friend lives nearby?” she asked.
“Étienne’s house is on Jusserand Avenue. Étienne Lémy. I don’t know if that means anything to you.”
“Lémy? My cousin might know him. And Valérie, his wife, knows everyone. Maybe you’ve met. He is Gaétan Beaulieu.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“He’s well esteemed here,” Nina said, unable to feign modesty. She was proud of Gaétan. He was not only the head of the family, but she thought him a wonderful man besides.
“You sound fond of him,” Hector said.
Nina nodded. “We practically grew up together. He used to come to visit us every other summer when I was little. He was like an elder brother to us, though to be fair, his playmate was my sister, Madelena. He is her elder by only a year and I was a small girl. Do you have any siblings?”
“None.”
“That seems odd. I have so many cousins, you’d need twice the fingers on your hands to count them all,” she said, and raised her hands as if counting them. “Most of us summered together and thus I had an unending pool of brothers and sisters. It is a rather noisy household. I suppose that’s what bothers me most about Gaétan’s home: It’s awfully quiet. You could hear a pin fall in the hallway.”
“A museum of a house.”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, delighted with the comparison. It did seem like a museum.
“It sounds like you miss your home,” he replied.