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Like every noble family currently in England, the Fleurs, as expected were currently in the Queen’s palace to celebrate two weddings. Belle had not wished to come, to do needing to attend to personal matters, but it was a wedding of a friend–Azucena and Lydia–Although on two different schedules, and Belle’s mother had told her that there was no running from attending, she would make the guards drag her if she does not come, and thus she came.
She watched as Harrison stood beside Azucena, reciting his vows with the kind of fervent devotion that perhaps from someone else Belle might have found truthful. But Harrison was everything if not a rake, and she knew Harrison–the rakish brother of a friend. She knew the easy charm he wielded like a sword, the way he danced between lovers with the careless grace of a rake who had never once feared the sting of rejection. His words were moving—almost too moving. They reminded her of the romance novels she had devoured in secret, the same kind she had written under a pen name. And wasn’t that a chilling thought? Had she really once found such honeyed declarations swoon-worthy? Well, Azucena looked happy and her happiness looked truthful there was that. She was happy for her, extremely happy, and she had wished nothing but the best for her, as after all Azucena had always been a lady riddled with the desire for romance and marriage and she was getting her dreams… Though, it would have been better if it was too some other man and not a rake…but did such a man exist anymore in the ton? Except for Klaus Shafer, she supposed, but he was more a German noble than an England noble and English nobles were well… English.Belle let out a quiet breath, shaking her head in faint amusement. Perhaps she was being too cynical—marriage had turned rakes into respectable men before. Though, she had yet to see it happen in a way that lasted beyond a few months of marital bliss before old habits resurfaced. But still, Azucena looked happy. And if Azucena was happy, then Belle supposed she could momentarily silence the skeptic in her mind.
The ceremony moved forward in its stately procession, the Queen’s palace bathed in the glow of chandeliers and candlelight. Belle’s gaze swept over the gathered crowd, noting the careful shifts of expression among the ton. Some looked genuinely moved by the spectacle and others jealous for perhaps they had wanted to marry Harrison, wanted their daughters married to Harrison or the men with bitter looks in their eyes had wanted to be wed to Azucena. Hmm, love truly leaves a bitter taste in one’s mouth.Her fingers smoothed the fabric of her gown absentmindedly as she let her thoughts wander. A wedding was, if nothing else, a stage. And if Harrison was playing the devoted groom today, then she would applaud his performance.
When the ceremony concluded, the guests rose in a flurry of movement. Laughter and conversation filled the air, and Belle found herself drawn away from the center of the festivities. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a familiar gaze and a huge smile graced her face.
“Atlas,” she said softly, as she walked towards him, and hugged him. “I have not gazed upon you in a while, I never realized how much I miss your face. How do you fair? and Adeline?” Atlas smelled the same—of parchment and ink, of something steady and familiar, like an old book that had been read a thousand times and still never lost its charm. Belle lingered in the embrace for just a moment longer before pulling away, her hands still resting lightly on his arms as if to confirm that he was real and not just a specter conjured by nostalgia.
“I have been surrounded by far too many strangers as of late,” she admitted, tilting her head slightly as she regarded him. “It is good to see a face that does not require careful pleasantries or exhausting diplomacy.” A small, knowing smile played at her lips. “And one that does not look at me as though I am some peculiar thing to be studied.”