The assistant returned with a slice of cake while the dressmaker was helping me into another creation my mother had commissioned. It was the newest fashion, all layers of petticoats and flounce, the bodice and sleeves tight, and the square neckline low. It was the sort of thing my mother would wear, and I felt uncomfortable. There were six of them waiting for me to try on, all of which must have cost her a small fortune.

I’d a sneaking suspicion that my new wardrobe indicated her desire for me to take my place in the salons of Trianon – at the Marquis’ side. There was no other reason for me to have dresses this elaborate and in these dark colors. Their completion was timely, but not for the reasons she thought.

Taking the tiny plate with its cake, I nibbled on it while watching the entrance to the fitting room. Tristan and Chris should have made it to the hotel by now, but I was waiting for word that they were ready before I put my part of the plan into action. The bell on the door of the shop rang, and moments later, Sabine walked into the room. She raised an appreciative eyebrow at my appearance, then, ignoring the dressmaker, stepped up onto the fitting podium and whispered into my ear, “They’ve taken rooms at the Hôtel de Crillon.”

“Is that so?” I murmured, but loud enough for the women to hear. “In a suite?”

“The most expensive rooms.” Her breath tickled my ear as she leaned closer. “Chris is all polished up and dressed as a manservant, and he’s got his own room. Looks about ready to fly out of his own skin from discomfort, but Tristan seems in his element.”

“How exciting.” I gave her a wicked little smile. “It’s been ages since anyone interesting came to the city, and there are none more interesting than him. Be a doll, and see if you can discover anything about his calendar. We’ll go for tea when I’m finished here and you can tell me the details.” I kissed her cheek, and watched her leave, hoping my nerves didn’t show.

“Have you any performances planned, mademoiselle?” the dressmaker asked around the pin in her mouth. She sounded disinterested, but I knew better. She sewed for the wealthy bourgeoisie and a few of the minor nobility, but what she primarily traded in was gossip.

“A few,” I replied, after swallowing my last mouthful of cake. “But I’ve found reason to keep my calendar open.”

“Oh?” She used the one word like a crowbar, prying for information.

“There’s a gentleman arrived who has a fine taste for the arts.”

“Recently arrived?” She didn’t pause in her pinning and tucking.

“Today. Although I’d heard about his impending arrival some days ago. I was fortunate enough to make his acquaintance this summer, and he sent me a letter explaining his intention to take up residence in Trianon.”

“From where?”

I handed my plate to the assistant. “That was beyond delicious! Would you be a dear and retrieve me another?” I waited pointedly for her to exit, knowing with absolute certainty that she’d be listening from outside the door.