That was true. She had always been more concerned over her children, her family, than she had been about herself. But really, when in the past had she done anything even remotely daring? This trip to Europe was supposed to be just that . . . a chance to break free, to experience different.

And Luc certainly was different.

Besides, as an adult, there is nothing wrong with spending some time getting acquainted with another single man.

She stopped with her hand on the shining brass door handle and peered through the window, trying to make him out among the other costumed men. Though the colors of their finery was slightly different, out in the darkness, they all looked rather the same. But Luc . . . Luc had a build very much like Stéphane’s, one that was hard to miss.

She squinted some more, and after a few moments, a sinking feeling began to pool in her stomach. He wasn’t there.

Of course, he’s there. The balcony is huge, probably, and you can’t see all of it. He’s out there, somewhere, waiting for you. You just need to take the first step and find him. Find your destiny!

She took a deep breath and was about to throw open the door when suddenly, a drunken caravan of young men and women, hooting loudly, rushed past her as if she was invisible. They threw open the door, arms linked, rushed out into the night.

Diana whirled and tried to scurry away from them, but her skirts made a quick escape impossible. The man at the tail end of the procession, a slovenly bald red-goateed man in a jester’s costume that was too small to hold in all of his massive hairy pale stomach, noticed her at the last moment. He held out a glass of champagne to her, spilling it everywhere, and slurred, “Hey, mademoiselle, come with us!”

She shook her head, but he kept reaching for her, and as he did, she noticed the sweat stains on the armpits of his costume. The costume department was going to have lots of fun with that one. They’d probably have to incinerate it after he got done with it. “Come on! Please! Make my dreams come true!”

“Oh no, that’s—”

Before she could step away, he grabbed for her. He clasped onto her hand just as the rest of his crew yanked him forward. Diana, still holding onto the door, lost her balance and went sprawling on her hands and knees on the top step, hopelessly tangled in the pile of her dress. By then, the drunken fools were already at the bottom of the staircase and rushing into the night.

“Sorry!” the jester called with a mighty guffaw, disappearing from view.

“Just . . . whatever,” Diana mumbled, looking down at all the silk surrounding her, making sure she hadn’t ruined the fabric during her fall. It looked okay. No tears or champagne stains. When she tried to get to her feet, her bare foot touched the cold marble, and she realized she’d lost her shoe. “Yes, this is just the kind of Cinderella experience I’d expect to have.”