Simone looked up to find the most stunning girl she’d ever seen standing in the peeling, crooked doorway. Not beautiful—not in the way of Château à Pont Allemagne, with its gold leaf and wooden parquet and elegant plaster—but stunning. Her aquiline nose stretched long on a long face and longer neck. Her arms floated, ethereal, at her sides, their pale creamy color framed by breezy teal sleeves. Her lips were brushed a pale rose that nevertheless looked riotous against her bone-white face. And the way her green eyes turned on Simone—

She was a Gorgon, Simone was sure of it. One look from those eyes and Simone felt made of stone.

“Do you see this?” Monsieur Gaturin cried, gesturing at Simone like he’d been delivered another man’s suit. “They sent me a bloody Arab. A girl. Not even a woman, a girl, and they think somehow she can salvage the dining hall—”

“You’re hardly in a position to judge someone’s carpentry skills, Father.” Simone slipped forward silently—she might as well have been floating. “And if you have such a strong dislike of Arabs, then maybe you should stop voting in favor of continued annexation.”

“That’s quite enough, Evangeline. This is not your concern.” Evangeline—alhamdulillah, but the syllables even tasted good as Simone tested them on her tongue.

“The dining hall wouldn’t need salvaging in the first place if your tasteless guests hadn’t left the bathwater running while you occupied yourselves with—”

“Enough. And you dare to wonder why the Villiers’ son fled from you the first chance he got.”

“No, Papa. I don’t wonder at all.” Evangeline lifted her chin. “I only regret he didn’t do it quicker.”

Monsieur Gaturin’s hand twitched at his side; Simone knew all too well the gesture of a man just barely restraining himself from delivering a blow. She leaned forward on the balls of her feet, ready to stop him forcibly if necessary. Damn whatever these rich people thought of her.

Evangeline paused in front of Simone and examined her in a way that felt both formal and gloriously, painfully intimate at once. “You are a carpenter with the Pirripin brothers? You can fix the damaged paneling and carvings?”

Simone nodded and matched her defiant gaze.

“Then you are quite welcome here.” Evangeline turned on her delicate heel and, with a viper’s strength, snatched her father’s arm and steered him from the dining hall. “Don’t you have better things to do, Papa? A meeting with the German ambassador or something?”

Simone wondered if Evangeline herself might not be better suited to that task.

With a smile, Evangeline turned back around, and Simone’s heart stuttered at the sight of her.

“Please,” Evangeline said softly. “Don’t let me keep you from your work.”