The Chocolatier's Wife (74 page)

“Well,
I
do
realize
it
breaks
with
tradition,
as
no one
is
really
supposed to
know
who
is
whom,
but
I
thought
you
would
like
it.
Where
the
blazes?” A
door
opened,
and
he
smiled.
“Thank
you.”
He
got
out
a
box
and
placed
it in front of her with a flourish.

“I
do
believe
this
is
the
first
time
you’ve
personally
given
me
a
present.
‘Tis
quite
novel,
for
you
to
see
my
reaction
first
hand,
rather
than
filtered
through words.”

“The
other
way
is easier to deal with.” He
watched as she removed the lid
and
car
e
fully
unwrapped
the
tissue.
“As
I
am
used
to
sending
things
out with the knowledge that I
will never
know
what you truly think.”

“‘Tis
beautiful!”
she
gasped,
pulling
it
out
of
the
tissue
and
raising
it
to her face.

“I
thought it suited you the other day.”

She leapt up and hugged him fiercely.

“You’re not going to like the rest as much,
I
fear.” She gave him
a
suspicious look.

The
look he
returned
was
sheepish.
“Perhaps
you
could
...
maybe
... keep an
eye on
Lavoussier?”

“Ah,
do you plan to unmask
the villain
at the ball?”
she teased.

“Really,
dear,
I
find
that
metaphor
boring.
As
if
I
would
do
something
so overly dramatic.”

“Again,
you
take
the
romance
out
of
things.”
She
sniffed.
“We
won’t
get to dance at all,
will we?”

He settled his arms
around
her waist. “At least once.
I
promise.”

"Before
the
end
of
the
night."

He
laughed.
"Of course."
He
moved
a
little
closer,
and
she
spun
out
of reach.

"Then
I
will
see
you
tonight."
She
took
the
box
and
mask,
curtsied
deeply,
and
left.

Chapter
2
1

Mesa
2
nd

Pale
Mn.
Qtr 1790

Tasmin,

We
have
recovered
a
most excellent
prize.
We
have
fought
and taken
the
Pandora,
that
very
same
ship who
has
long
terrorized the
waters of
the
Vining
Sea
.
She
is a
most beautiful
vessel,
over 100
guns
and
three
decks.
As you
might remember,
my own poor ship is only a seventy-five-gunner,
but I knew the Pandora
had been
beaten
up pretty badly
in her
last engagement
with the
HMS Crien.
We
managed
to prevail and,
thanks
to the
weather
gauge being
on
our side,
we
were able
to take
her.
I
am certain
one
of your charms
is what
truly saved
the
day.

Bishop Kinglsey,
who
you
may
recall
asked
me to pursue
her,
is greatly
pleased.
He
tells me that
he
has
secured
that
thing which
he
worried so about,
though
he
has
r
e
fused
to allow me to see
it. Still, he
has
promised a
great
reward, and
so I
am content.

I
am more or less the
same
as
I
ever
was,
though
I
dare say
a scar
or more will not change
your impression of
me.

Yours truly,

William

The
lord
mayor
and his
wife
came
out
onto
the platform
first, their
costumes
e
x
ceptionally elaborate.
No
one
knew
for
certain,
of
course,
if
the
pair
taking
the
fur-covered
ice
thrones
were
actually
who
everyone
assumed they were, but it was,
after all,
the point of the masked ball.

Andrew
was
dressed
all
in
gray
,
his
mask clearly
representative
of
an animal, but
William couldn’t
tell
what
he
was
meant
to
be.
Unfortunately everything
clicked
into
place
when
he
saw
Bonny’s
costume,
a
slinky
black dress, and
a
cat’s
face mask.
Cat and
mouse? Cruelly clever.

His
mother
and
father
never
changed
their
costumes
from
year
to
year; she
was
Queen
Francesca,
the
matriarch
who
had
led
her
people
to
victory over
the
North,
and
his
father
was
the
consort
who
had
led
the
troops,
Lord Ferdinand.
Not
exactly
the
most
tactful
of
choices,
either,
considering
that his
intended
was
from
the
North.
And
being
from
the
North,
she
might consider,
as
those
from
that
clime
often
did,
that
it
was
her
people
who
had won the war,
not his.

Lavoussier, Lavoussier, what
are
you
wearing?
Tasmin
thought
she would
have
no
trouble
at
all
finding him,
and
William
believed
it,
but
he would
feel
better
if
he,
hi
m
self,
knew
where
to
look
for
the
other
man. He turned,
the
bells
on
his
cape
tinkling faintly.
He
had
chosen
to
dress
as
a
jester magician
in
a
robe
of
patchwork
velvet,
edged
with
bells.
It
was filled with
pockets
and
tricks,
both
a
concealing
and
mem
o
rable
costume. He
was
much
more
interested
in
Tasmin’s
costume,
though,
and
found himself
not
quite
concentrating
on the
task at
hand,
hoping
for
a
glance
at his betrothed.

There
she
was. He
laughed
to
himself,
because
every
foolish
thing
he had
read
in
novels
(and
he
did
rather
enjoy
reading
novels, though
he would
never admit
that
in
public)
about
everyone
else
disappearing,
the room
narrowing,
everything
focusing
on
one
thing,
it
was
all
true.
And
that one
thing
was
her.
He
thought
she
was
the
most
blessed,
the
most
magical thing
he’d
ever
seen.
In her
dress
of
layer
upon
layer
upon
layer
of
sheer cloth
in different
hues
of
blue,
she
looked
like
the
Ice
Queen
of
the
North come
to
do
battle
with
Francesca.
Certainly
not
the
dress
Mother
would have
given
you.
Well
played,
darling one.