Page 30 of The Beautiful Ones

Be careful, I tried to tell her.

Then Adrian spoke, and she looked away from me.

“You do not care for the capon, Miss Lebon?”

The question was simple, but the table quieted around it. People always became attentive when a stranger addressed Cécile. They waited for her difficulty as eagerly as children waited for a dropped glass to break.

Cécile's fingers tightened around her fork.

“N-no, I—”

Her breath caught.

Madame Lebon leaned forward. “Cécile has never had a generous appetite.”

Adrian did not look at Madame.

He continued looking at Cécile.

“I did not ask whether your appetite was generous,” he said. “I asked whether you cared for the capon.”

A faint color rose beneath Cécile's skin.

She tried again. “I d-d—”

Warren shifted in his chair. The movement was slight, but I saw the smile beginning at the corner of his mouth.

Adrian reached into his waistcoat and withdrew a narrow ivory card and a silver pencil.

He placed them beside Cécile's plate.

“You may answer in whatever manner pleases you.”

No one moved.

Cécile looked first at the card and then at Adrian. Her expression changed so quickly that it hurt me to see it. Surprise came first, followed by gratitude, and beneath both something tender and unguarded.

Madame Lebon gave a thin laugh. “Mr. Fairhaven, if we allowed Cécile to write every answer, she would never make the effort to speak.”

“Then we would have the benefit of her thoughts without demanding a performance.”

The word fell neatly between them.

Madame's face remained composed, but a patch of color appeared above the neckline of her gown.

Cécile took the pencil.

The capon is excellent, she wrote. I am not hungry.

Adrian read the card and inclined his head as though she had given a formal reply in flawless French.

“Thank you.”

Warren's smile had disappeared.

Cécile should have returned the card. Instead, she held the pencil above it for a moment and wrote another question.

Did Nathaniel ask you to come?