I’d never been courted. All the boys in the Hollow had known I was leaving and hadn’t bothered, and for obvious reasons Tristan had been unable to do so in Trollus. In my more indulgent moments, I’d felt a bit robbed, and that made me want to enjoy this moment, despite the underlying motivations.

Eating another truffle, I went to the desk and extracted a card.

Monsieur de Montigny,

Your taste in sweets is, as always, divine. It would be my pleasure to attend the ballet with you this evening. I shall see you at 6.

Cécile

I gave it to the delivery boy with a coin and instructions on where to bring it. Shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it and closed my eyes, licking the traces of sugar from my lips.

“I certainly hope you declined.”

Opening my eyes, I saw my mother standing next to the desk, Tristan’s note in her hands. I’d left it there knowing she would pick it up, because as much as this ruse was for Anushka’s benefit, it also required luring my mother in. “Of course I didn’t. Why should I have?”

She grimaced and was silent for a long moment. “Accepting a last-minute invitation makes you appear eager. Desperate. Boring. None of which are attractive qualities.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. He knows me well enough to have made his own judgments.”

“Which is rather interesting, given that you’ve never mentioned him before.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever have the opportunity to see him again,” I said, sorting through the sweets so that I wouldn’t have to look her in the eye as I lied. “I met him in Courville this summer. After I was injured, I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye before the Girards whisked me back to the Hollow. I didn’t even know he knew I was in Trianon until I received his letter.”

“And just how well do you know this young man?”

Her inflection and her meaning were obvious and my cheeks burned. “Not that well, mother.”

Relief flooded her face. “Small mercies.”

Catching her by the arm, I led her to the settee and pressed a salted caramel upon her because I knew they were her favorite. “I thought this was what you wanted for me,” I said. “You yourself said this is what you had me trained for.”

“He is a poor choice.”

“Why?”

She set the candy on the table. “After you told me the two of you were acquainted, I took the liberty of tracking him down, Cécile. He is not right for this purpose. He’s too young, too handsome, too used to having everything he wants. I’ve met his kind before: his affections will be fierce, but fleeting. And he will not be discreet. There are better options.”

“Like the Marquis.” My tone was sour.

She nodded. “He will provide what you need at very little cost to your person. And no risk of heartbreak.”