vi.

LAURENTINE BONFAMILLE SETTLED HER KITTEN ON THE BEAUTIFUL marble counter of the bathroom in the closest guestroom that the butler of the Garnier manor had directed her towards.

It was on the same floor as the drawing room, and only a single hallway, the dining hall and a few rooms away.

Though the bathroom was gorgeous, with stunning dark marble work on the sink counter and dim warm lighting from the electric light bulbs, Laur couldn't feel at peace in the middle of it. For this was still Genevieve's territory, and Laurentine was sure she needed to be at her own mansion to feel the calm she so desperately craved at present.

Out of all that she had imagined out of tonight—which wasn't much at all really—she still couldn't have ever imagined this particular outcome of isolating herself in a guestroom bathroom and having to hold back her tears.

Berlioz purred sadly, his large eyes glittering up at her as he sensed her dismay. He settled onto the sink counter, resting his head in between his front two limbs as he meowed low.

"I'm fine darling," Laur whispered to him, looking at her reflection in the lavish bathroom mirror.

"I'm just a little shaken, I promise I will be just alright."

She took a moment to reflect on everything that had happened. From borderline arguing with Monsieur Arsenault, Laur had begun to relate with him on his sister's—and even his wayward brother's—matters. She had started to become interested—intrigued—by him, finding herself more curious and desiring of knowing things about him. She had loved the way he had held Berlioz and reciprocated her kitten's interest in him.

Somehow, what Genevieve had done, had shattered all of it in Laur's eyes. Atleast she feared it had shattered the connection she had made. Mon Dieu, what connection? How could Laurentine possibly become so entranced by a businessman from Marseille? A financier and bank owner no less? That a few enthusiastic—though in bad taste—words on Genevieve's part had left Laur so shaken?

Genevieve meant well, Laur believed that. She was only just trying to give an effect to Monsieur Laframboise, and any lady with such intentions would have done the same? Surely?

Try as she might, Laurentine couldn't—for the first time in her life—fully justify a friend's behavior. Why must Laur's past be dragged out for Genevieve Garnier to attain some semblance of interest from Monsieur Edgar Laframboise?

If Adelaide was here, she would be utterly furious, both with Genevieve for saying the things that she had, and with Laur for putting up with it.

Laur washed her hands, dried them with some tissue and pulled her silk gloves back on. She touched her hair briefly, her blonde curls were arranged extravagantly at the crown of her head with curls framing her face and some cascading from from her do at the back.

The blush colored embellished gown she wore complimented Laurentine's fair skin wonderfully, the heart neckline tracing the top of her breasts and letting her collarbones stand angelically up top.

For a time in Laur's life, her appearance was her one consolation. The way she looked was the only reason she had been even given a chance to perform in front of a director at the Roses Bleues opera house for the first time, and after that point it was her voice that had gotten her the contract. She had her beauty to credit for even being considered, for there must be many in the world who have the same talent as her—or even better than hers—that were never being considered just because they didn't look a certain way.

But for Laurentine that time had long passed. Though she appreciated the way she looked, she hadn't had need to rely on her looks alone for a long time now.

"Come darling," Laur reached for Berlioz, picking him up and holding him to her chest.

"Let's go, it's almost dinner time and we shall leave for home soon afterwards, alright? I'm quite emotionally exhausted."

She spun on her heels, making her way towards the bathroom exit, but as she slipped past the door and entered the guestroom again, she was faced with a familiar figure standing beside the bed in the room, the guestroom entrance open behind him.

Monsieur Édouard Arsenault had his hands tucked in the pockets of his dark grey suit trousers, and his hazel eyes instantly met hers as she appeared.

"Monsieur," Laurentine managed, letting out a small laugh before she composed herself walked slowly over towards him. "You startled me."

He didn't respond, so Laur cradled Berlioz—who was getting quite excited again upon the reappearance of the gentleman, before lifting her eyes to look at him again.

"Did you too need a moment to yourself?" She asked politely, before her voice sombered a little.

"I apologize for what happened in the drawing room. It was uncalled for, dumping so much on you like that. Genevieve was merely excited I believe, I hope you don't discredit us too much."

"Why should I discredit you?" He asked then, his baritone hard in the silence of the guestroom as he stepped closer to her, meeting her at the foot of the guest bed.

"If anything, it was the hostess' blatant impertinence to speak on somebody else's life that needs the credit deduction."

Laurentine startled at the ferocity of his words. His stubbled jaw was tight, his white skin gleaming with a sheen of yellow from the warm electric lightbulbs in the guestroom. His hazel eyes were sharper than she had seen at any point in the drawing room.

"Genevieve didn't mean it like that," Laur tried to defend her friend, even though her heart had been the one to suffer the betrayal.

"She's just..," Laurentine glanced away briefly, before meeting his eyes again. "She's just trying to impress Monsieur Laframboise. I know she went a bit too far, but no harm has been done."

Laur felt as though she had said too much herself. She wasn't supposed to hint at Monsieur Laframboise's friend that Genevieve held an interest for the man, that wasn't at all the reason her friend had asked her to come tonight. But at least, regardless of all that had occurred before, in following her to the guestroom Monsieur Arsenault had given her friend a reason to be alone with her gentleman.

"The day Edgar starts to be impressed with such heartless impudence is the day I'll severe every joint business venture I have with him," Édouard Arsenault uttered, his gaze fixed harshly in hers. "I'll leave him without every cent that I have invested in his separate affairs, and I'll watch as he tries and fails to make it all back."

Laurentine blinked, her brows furrowing at the words. She hadn't suspected the man's own dominant position in front of his friend. Of course, gentlemen shared business endeavors often enough amongst themselves, and the efforts of those endeavors rarely were balanced, but looking at Monsieur Laframboise and Monsieur Arsenault's dynamic, she couldn't have imagined at first thought about this much of a scale tipping.

"Please," She insisted. "Don't feel so strongly at this, it was just a mistake on Genevieve's part. Perhaps I should've spoken upon it before she had felt the need to—"

"Should've?" The gentleman repeated, his voice cutting. "You have no obligation to tell anyone—let alone me—about anything from your past or present personal life if you do not want to. Mademoiselle Garnier's act was reckless and disgraceful for a woman of her standing."

Laur's eyes fell to Berlioz, and she saw the curiosity in her kitten's eyes as he tried to decipher the discourse in the air.

"I understand," She let out, her voice soft as she tried to calm him. "But please give her some grace, do not judge her too harshly, she does not deserve it."

Édouard Arsenault didn't respond then, as his hazel eyes filled with a curious disbelief.

"I think you are giving that woman more grace than most people bestow in your place."

Laur blinked at his audacity, before quickly turning away and putting her back to him. She felt so conflicted. Part of her wanted to put up more of a fight in defense of her friend, but the other part? The other part only wanted to be left alone, to go home and perhaps bake something or two for herself, Berlioz, and her sister—just so that she wouldn't spend her night dwelling on the misery her friend had inflicted upon her in front of complete strangers.

"You were mistaken in the drawing room, mademoiselle Bonfamille," Édouard Arsenault spoke to her back then.

"You are one who is kind, to cut your friend such slack. For I'll be damned if she deserves it."

Laurentine shut her eyes tightly, feeling her eyes stinging sharply. Could Genevieve truly not deserve the grace that part of Laur wanted to give her? Laur herself would never trample on any of her friends' pasts like this to impress a man, than why should she be subjected to something of the sort?

"I think I am the one who's forgiveness she needs, Monsieur Arsenault," Laur turned to face him again, gathering up all her resolve. "She spoke of me and my family, and though it hurt me, I'll still forgive her because I can. Everybody deserves to be forgiven for their mistakes, forgiveness is more liberating than criticizing ever is."

Édouard Arsenault's gaze in hers was hard and he nodded the barest of nods.

"Then you are a better person than me, mademoiselle," He let out. "You're better than France itself."

Laurentine's eyes dropped to Berlioz at her chest briefly, as she stroked his fur gently before meeting the gentleman's eyes again.

"Please don't speak of this anymore, Monsieur, my heart is starting to feel like lead in my chest."

"I won't," He asserted, "But you should sit, mademoiselle, I'll accompany you to the drawing room."

"No," Laur blurted out quickly, before composing herself. "I mean, let us wait a while. I'm sure Genevieve will send the butler to look for us when it is time for dinner."

Laurentine cringed inwardly at the wording of her sentences. She had made it seem as though she was merely craving his presence for herself, when she had only asked for it to give her friend some time with Monsieur Laframboise. Although, having Édouard Arsenault to herself for a moment or two did not feel as.. uncomfortable a feat.

Casting one glance at the owner of the Arsenault banks, Laurentine was assured that the man had—despite her clumsy wording—deduced exactly her intentions pertaining to Garnier and Laframboise. She realized with a relief that he hadn't caught onto her own rather impertinent intention.

He didn't appear impressed, for his opinion on Genevieve Garnier was now established and declared, yet still he resolved himself into compliance easily with a certain consideration lighting up his stoic face, gesturing to the edge of the guest bed as Laur nodded and sat herself elegantly down.

"Should I call the butler for some water for you, mademoiselle?" He inquired then, but Laurentine shook her head, distracted and laughing slightly as Berlioz quickly jumped off her lap and onto the carpeted room floor, nearing Monsieur Arsenault's feet and looking up at him hopefully.

A faint smile took hold of Édouard's lips, and Laur was startled to see it. In the drawing room he had remained unsmiling, though his eyes had glinted his interest often enough. But at present, to see his lips mold into a small smile seemed.. electrifying to her.

He bent down to pick up Berlioz again, as the ragdoll kitten meowed happily, his belly encased protectively in the gentleman's palm.

"I think he's quite in love," Laurentine spoke, beaming happily, her heartache of before forgotten.

She watched Monsieur Arsenault bring Berlioz to his chest, petting his head gently with his other hand as he stood at the foot of the bed in front of Laur's seated form.

"I've never had a kitten take a shine to me like this before," He spoke, amusement in his voice.

"Do you have pets, Monsieur?" Laurentine asked then, smiling up at him as she suddenly realized that he was indeed the most striking gentleman she had ever seen, and with Berlioz nuzzled against his chest, she couldn't help but blush at the sight.

"No, mademoiselle," He answered then, meeting her vibrant blue eyes as they glittered in the warm light of the guestroom.

"I used to have a goldfish when I was a child, but I think I rather fed it too much, for the next thing I knew it was floating face down in the glass bowl."

Laur laughed at that, shaking her head as she covered her lips with her gloved palm.

Édouard Arsenault looked at her, his look sombering from amusement and diffusing into a gentle intrigue mixed with a startling admiration. His hazel eyes seemed to glint at her as his lips slightly parted-not to say words, but in pure.. awe at the sight of her.

Laurentine stopped laughing, her laughter melting into her radiant smile as she looked up at him, meeting his intense gaze.

"You are a sight when you laugh, mademoiselle," He uttered then, Berlioz purring at his chest as the man's eyes bore into Laur's.

"I haven't seen anyone more beautiful, in my entire life."

Laurentine blinked, warmth cascading over her facial features and her neck lighting itself on fire. She was desperately fond of compliments, and the gentlemen she sometimes entertained in her drawing room or accepted dinner invitations from, had many intricate and unique ones to give. But somehow, this simple one in comparison, made her heart flutter more than any other she had heard and received.

"Merci," She managed, her eyes glittering up at him as she bit the inside of her cheek to control the reddening of her skin and the fluttering of her senses.

His eyes seemed to nod at her, clearing his throat as though the act in itself could dispel the energy in the room a little bit, before he turned to look at Berlioz at his chest, shifting the kitten into a more comfortable position in the crook of his elbow.

"How is your sister, mademoiselle?" He uttered then, his eyes meeting hers again. "I hope she is happy and well?"

Laur beamed, startled and delighted at his tactic of using the same phrase she herself had used before to inquire more of his family without feeling as though she was prodding. He had complied to her, and she suddenly felt determined—and content—to comply too.

"Indeed she is," Laurentine managed, smiling. "Lately she has taken an interest in starting a boutique endeavor with my best friend. You see, my sister is quite an artist. She plans to have a gallery in the boutique, painting people in their gowns, before she leaves for England to join the whole votes for women escapade."

Édouard Arsenault's expression turned thoughtful and amused, making Laur elicit a laugh. She felt lighthearted, and so surprised at herself for saying things to this man that saying to other people in her life would've caused her plain embarrassment.

"Please do not ask me how all those things are connected," She touched a blonde curl away from her forehead. "My sister is quite inexplainable."

"England," The gentleman mused, glancing briefly at Berlioz to pet him before meeting Laurentine's eyes again.

"It's far."

She blinked at the brief words, startled at how much they resonated with her. Was that not her entire concern regarding her sister summed up in two small words?

"It is," She managed, her eyes dropping to her gloved hands in her lap.

"I was hoping I could branch out perhaps. Or maybe I could ask someone—" Laur shook her head as though her hopes were already futile sounding. "Genevieve has a stepsister in England who I could write to, perhaps she would help me in looking after my sister for me over there."

"I mean," She shut her eyes briefly, exhaling. "Of course the woman isn't obligated to and she has a life of her own and neither I nor my sister know her that well, but maybe she would still help. I just—I don't know. England is still a while away hopefully, but I feel like I'm losing my sanity already."

Laurentine met Édouard Arsenault's hazel eyes, and found such consideration in her eyes that she felt instantly comforted.

"I'm sorry," She shook her head, "I didn't mean to burden you with my problems."

"No," The gentleman uttered then, a little hastily before he paused to think for a second.

Then he met her eyes with clarity and determination in his orbs.

"I have men in England," He started. "If you allow it, I will make sure no harm comes to your sister over there when she goes. I can have her protected without making it obvious to her, for if she's anything like my own sister, she would detest it. And if your sister intends to get involved in the votes for women movement, she will need protection and legal processes to be made easier for her."

Laurentine blinked, standing up and meeting his gaze in surprise.

"Truly?" She asked, her heart swelling in her chest. "You will truly help her?"

His eyes in hers sharpened in further determination, before he nodded once.

"But—," Laur started, not believing her ears. "But why? You do not even know me, or her. Why would you agree to such a thing?"

"I know you enough to offer you my service, mademoiselle," Édouard uttered then. "It is no trouble for me, and will be my pleasure."

Laurentine Bonfamille's heart pounded in her chest. Mon Dieu, if Adelaide was looked after in England, Laur would truly have nothing to worry about. She could continue her life here in Paris, at the opera house and at her mansion. She could sit down every afternoon to pen down letters to Adelaide in England, and be assured of hearty and well responses each time.

Everyone Laur cared about—her sister, her best friend—always seemingly wanted to spread their wings where Laurentine could not be sure of their protection. It was almost as though they wanted to escape her influence, shunning Paris and every part of France where Laur was recognized for her talents.

But this time, Adelaide would be able to escape her elder sister's influence and still spread her wings and be protected. It was a beautiful yet melancholy thought, but it was still golden in its own way.

"But what if I never see you again?" Laur spoke softly, peering up at the gentleman who had seemingly offered her her salvation.

"What if I never see you again and you forget about me?" She tried to word her sudden fears again. "England is still a while away in my sister's plans, but when it comes, what if you're not around? Where will I search for you? Will you still agree to her protection then?"

Berlioz stirred in Édouard Arsenault's hold, and he broke eye contact with Laur to bend over to the edge of the guest bed and gently set the ragdoll kitten on the plush softness.

He straightened to look at her again, his eyes coated in a fierce determination.

"I give you my word, mademoiselle Bonfamille, your sister will be well protected in England whenever she chooses to go, even if it's fifty years from now."

"You need only come to me," He added then. "I will make sure of everything else."

Laur blinked, her gaze fluttering over to Berlioz on the bed as he stretched his legs and enjoyed the softness of the bed for a while. She looked back up at Monsieur Arsenault, realizing that her chin reached only up to his shoulders. He was taller than her, not by much, but still.

"Promise me," She spoke softly then, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Promise me you will help."

It was ridiculous, what she was saying. He had offered to help Adelaide, but he wasn't obligated to perform that offer. It was just that Laur hadn't realized herself how desperate she was of the help he had offered. She was desperate for it, and she needed to believe he would give it.

"I'll do anything, if you do," She blurted out, shaking her head. "I promise, in return, I will do anything you need me to, to make up for it. I don't just want to demand from you this heavy favor without any compliance in return. Please."

Monsieur Édouard Arsenault gazed into her eyes, taking in her soft desperation, the worry encasing her angelic features, her glittering blue orbs.

"I promise," He let out then, his baritone hard and determined. "I promise I will be there when you need me, mademoiselle."

The affirmation was simple, but Laurentine was slightly confounded at how all encompassing it was. He had deepened the simple promise she had asked of him, and had agreed to far more than what she had dared to ask. But had she too asked a simple promise? How had she worded her words? Had she asked much from him, and had he agreed to it all and more?

"Ask from me something in return," She breathed then, feeling herself shake in her guilt.

"Please," She insisted, her eyes peering into his as they stung and misted. "Please, ask anything. I don't know how I can ever repay this promise and I'm terrified to even begin and try, but please, ask something from me."

He didn't respond, keeping his eyes fixed in hers as he let silence thicken the atmosphere, before he finally spoke.

"Give me the pleasure of three nights of dinner with you."

Laurentine blinked, taken aback as she broke into a smile. For some reason she had assumed he'd ask something more grave—money perhaps, or make her sign a contract that trapped unsuspecting ladies into complex legal schemes, making them sign over everything they have to the man who initiated the contract, or perhaps he would've asked of her a favor in Paris to aid him in his business endeavors here.

But he had merely asked to dine with her three nights.

"Why three?" She asked, beaming up at him as her glassy eyes cleared.

He smiled a small smile, and it made Laurentine heart rampage in her chest.

"One dinner is easy and quite quickly over with the formalities involved," Édouard uttered. "The second and third is for my own pleasure. I would've asked for four but I do not want to make you suffer."

Laur laughed, before her laugh mellowed into a smile and she met his eyes again.

"Alright," She managed, a blush deepening on her cheeks. "When do we start?" 

"Not tonight," He exhaled in slight frustration, making her giggle, as he glanced outside of the guestroom and into the hallway. 

"I will let you know when we start, mademoiselle," He met her eyes in determination, as she gazed into his hazel orbs with fascination. 

"I'm in Paris for a while yet, and I have some business matters to adhere to first," He swallowed, his erect Adam's apple bobbing on his throat as his eyes were marred with a reoccurrence of his frustration, as though suddenly his business endeavors seemed nothing short of irritating to him. 

"I don't want anything to get in the way of those three dinner nights."

Laurentine looked away, biting the inside of her cheeks. Mon Dieu, she was blushing and heating up excessively today. She felt the intense need to touch her face and could already suspect how hot her skin was. 

"I hope, mademoiselle, that you do not have any prior dinner arrangements with any other gentlemen?" 

She looked up at him as the hesitant question left his mouth, and she couldn't help but smile at the change in his determined tone. 

"I suppose I can cancel them," She peered up at him, eyes glinting like stars in this warm lighting. "For none of them have so gallantly offered to help me like you have, Monsieur. You are generous, and I'm forever grateful for the promise you have made to me tonight." 

"But I shall free myself of my prior engagements on one condition," She dared, a teasing look in her eyes and she watched confusion waft over his stoic, handsome, features.

"Only if you call me Laur." 

He blinked, before his confusion fled his face and his eyes sharpened in hers. He parted his lips to speak, but a shuffling was heard at the door of the guestroom, before a monotonous voice interrupted them. 

"Mademoiselle Bonfamille, and Monsieur Arsenault," The butler of the Garnier manor uttered mechanically. "Mistress Garnier requires your presence in the dining hall, if you please." 

Laurentine nodded at the butler, before offering Monsieur Arsenault a happy smile—the gentleman barely hiding the stoic annoyance on his face at the interruption, but when met with her smile, the disturbance on his expression softened. 

She spun towards the bed, bending to pick up Berlioz. 

"Come darling, the summons have arrived," She spoke, gathering the kitten into her arms as she kissed his fur. 

She glanced again at Monsieur Arsenault, mischief in her smile as she realized that he hadn't been able to fulfill the condition she had set out. He read her look, his handsome sculpted face amused at the game she believed she had played. 

Laurentine started walking, cradling Berlioz at her chest and attempting to walk past the gentleman and towards the guestroom exit when her elbow was gently grabbed. 

The hold of his palm encased around her bare elbow sent tingles erupting down her spine as she gasped. The butler raised a brow at the guestroom entrance, before diverting his eyes elsewhere while still deciding to fulfill his duties by remaining in attendance upon the two guests in the room. 

Laurentine Bonfamille felt Édouard Arsenault bring his face close to her ear as she kept her gaze ahead, her heart hammering in her chest at the nearness of him, all her amusement of before forgotten. With his thumb, he gently caressed the skin of her elbow, his hand holding her with a tender care yet still a firm grip that she felt as though a woman could melt into. 

"Laur," He spoke her name then, his voice a thick whisper in her ear as his hot breath washed over her earlobe, sending chills cascading down her back. 

Her blue eyes fluttered as she turned her head to meet his gaze, realizing their faces were only inches away from each other. 

His intense hazel gaze dropped to her lips, before rising up to settle back into her own eyes. Laurentine could've passed hours like this, trapped in this position with him, with his eyes in hers and his hand on her elbow as his thumb gently kissed her skin with it's caresses.  

But the butler cleared his throat and Berlioz stirred at her chest, and the spell was broken. 

Monsieur Arsenault backed away, letting his hand drop away from her as he put a respectable distance between them again. He considered her for a moment, as she tried to regain her composure with her heart battering in her chest. He too, it seemed to her, was trying to regain his own resolve. Then when he was sure he had it, he nodded at her once, his eyes intense in hers before he gestured his hand forwards. 

Laurentine started walking out of the guestroom, and felt him step into place beside her, his hands pinned at his back as together they started making their ascent towards the Garnier manor's dining hall. 

All the while, Laur had desperate trouble keeping the blush from off her skin and stopping her heart from pounding out of it's cage in her chest.