Page 40

“And why, then, was I not told?”

“I am not required to inform you of anything.” The sentence falls like a sharp blow. “Simply sign and seal the invitations.”

I turn and head for the door. I need to get out of this room.

“Evander.”

“Mother?”

“They are just flowers. There is no need for such a fuss.”

I feel my heart beat slightly faster as I push the door open. My eyes linger for a moment on the papers still in my hand, on those motionless dolls, and then I slip into the corridor, leaving behind the acrid, sweet smell of the room and the echo of her words.

Once in the hallway, I find Étienne, who steps forward silently.

“Étienne,” I say, my gaze fixed ahead, “call Jean-Baptiste and bring him to me.”

“Oui, Monsieur.”

He bows quickly and disappears around the corner.

I continue to the Pavilion, into my study. I set the papers down on the mahogany desk, running a hand through my hair to comb it back. A sigh escapes my lips.

Damned flowers.

I let myself sink into the armchair. After a few moments, the door opens and Étienne leads Jean-Baptiste inside.

“Did you require me, Viscount?”

I observe him for a moment, hands clasped in my lap as the silence stretches, then I turn my gaze to my valet.

“Étienne, bring me a coffee, je vous prie.”

“Right away.” He gives a quick bow and withdraws.

I turn back to the butler.

“Why was I not informed that you had organized the inauguration of the winter garden?”

“The Viscountess—”

I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

“I asked why I was not informed.”

His body stiffens.

“My apologies, Viscount. It will not happen again.”

“Provide me with a report on every detail you have arranged, Moreau.”

My voice comes out sharp, but he remains unfazed, he merely pushes his glasses further up his nose.

“Certainly, Viscount.”

I give him a brief flick of my hand, enough for him to understand our conversation is over. As soon as the door closes, I sink my weight back into the chair. The door opens again.

“Voilà.” Étienne enters carrying a silver tray.