Marguerite, the former Duchess of Torrinni, receives two letters that will change the course of her life forever; and that will impact young Céleste Richel's life too, in more ways than one.
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When Marguerite is forced to return to Torrinni cour...
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Marguerite and Céleste deposited their glasses and cruised to the corner of the room where the contenders cowered. Their up-dos had come undone and they wrung their hands as men swerved by to ogle them like prized animals.
Disgusted, but refraining from snarling, Marguerite beckoned her girls. "We will retire for the evening." She pushed by parades of ladies fawning over Prince Jules, who nibbled at a biscuit near the dais. "Best to leave now, while the night is young. Two long days await you. Bid farewell to their Majesties and wait outside the doors."
Four of the ladies—and Céleste—rushed off to excuse themselves; but Charlotte, clenching her fists at her sides, pouted. "Are we not guests of honor? We should stay and entertain these fine men." Her lip curled, and she shifted her weight. "Or try to chat with the Princes."
She wasn't wrong; Marguerite's own Presentation Ceremony had lasted hours. Most had stayed up late, drinking copious cups of alcohol, devouring plate after plate of pastries, flirting with courtiers. Marguerite had spent the evening with Antoine, hidden on the patio, kissing until their lips were numb.
But this wasn't her ceremony, and these times were different, with dangerous men lurking about.
She side-eyed the Vidame nearby, then glared at Charlotte. "It is also respectable to leave early. It shows proper conduct and restraint, and that you do not wish to imposeon society. The royals will prefer it, what with the Inauguration in two days. they have much else to worry about."
Huffing, Charlotte gripped her skirts and hustled to the platform as the other ladies returned. Marguerite hastened after her, aware she also had to request permission to depart and would have no choice but to be close to Antoine.
Luckily, he wasn't on the dais. All royals had disappeared, save Adelaide, who sat on her throne draining a glass of amber-hued liquor.
Dipping into a curtsy, Marguerite kept her chin tucked. "I seek your consent to retire, Your Majesty."
With a brusque wave of dismissal, Adelaide puckered her lips, downing half the contents of her cup. "Smart choice. Do not let your girls get into the kind of trouble we—"
Marguerite flurried away before the Queen finished her sentence and exposed her.
She rushed to the exit where her girls waited. Leading them down the corridors, through the empty entrance hall, and up the stairs, she took deep inhales, thankful the night was over.
At the top, as they swished across the landing, Esther stopped, unleashing a whimper that caught them all unawares.
Marguerite swirled around, brows rising. "Everything all right?"
Two presences popped up on either side of her—Charlotte and Julia, scowling, arms crossed.
Esther gaped at Marguerite. "Miss M., pleasetell me, otherwise I will not sleep. What were those formal invitations the King mentioned?"
