Chapter 2
"Stop that," Ray slaps Florian's hand as the blond reaches up to adjust his ascot again. "You look fine."
"I look like a fool," Florian counters. "I hate dressing like this."
"It's hardly that white military uniform," Ray agrees with a smirk, referring to the outfit Florian was wearing the first time they met. "This is the latest fashion and it suits you quite well." He strokes Florian's cheek gently. "Just remember why you're doing this - for your parent's portrait."
Florian nods and gives Ray a grateful smile. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit nervous. The last ball I attended was mother's and that was two years ago." His violet eyes darken with the memory of that ball and what happened in the days after.
"Are you ready?" Ray asks quietly, hoping to bring Florian's thoughts back from those dark places. The blond isn't usually a moper, but he has times when past experiences overwhelm him. This is one of the reasons Ray insisted he spend time with Monsieur Renault. The tutor is patient and kind but doesn't overindulge either of his charges.
"I've already tucked Noel into bed and Laila knows not to let him get away with asking for more than one glass of water." Florian hesitates for a moment as if considering, then nods. "We can go." He follows Ray out to the car and climbs in, gripping the door handle. He's ridden with Ray often enough to know to hold on tight.
Miranda is waiting for them in the lobby of her hotel and greets both men warmly. She nods to Agnes who trails along without speaking or smiling.
"Thank you for being my escort," she tells Florian as he offers her his arm. He smiles and blushes a little as he leads her towards the exit. One thing his mother never compromised was his training in courtly manners.
Florian is a perfect gentleman as he guides Miranda to the car and assists her into the vehicle. He waits for Ray to bring Agnes and assists her as well before climbing into the front passenger seat.
Cars aren't exactly conducive to polite conversation so the group rides in silence to the mansion where the Spanish Ambassador is staying as a guest of Duke Clairmonde.
Ray can't stand the old Duke, although he's done business with him several times. He thinks the man is an officious prig, condescending to everyone . The Duke deeply resents Ray and the fact that he's had to rely on the young man's loans to help pay off some rather large gambling debts. Ray suspects he received an invitation to tonight's ball only because the Duke was sure that Ray wouldn't attend. Seeing the Duke's reaction to his presence will be a bright spot in what promises to be a very dull evening.
Pulling up in front of the mansion, Ray turns off the car and hands the key to the attendant. He rounds the vehicle and waits as Florian assists both ladies as they disembark. Taming his frown, Ray offers his arm to Agnes and leads her to join the others ascending the flight of steps into the mansion.
Presenting his invitation, Ray helps Agnes with her wrap before handing his overcoat to the waiting servant. When Florian and Miranda have done the same, they join the short line of people waiting to be announced.
"Finally," Ray mutters once they are inside the crowded ballroom. "I need a drink."
"Miranda?" Florian asks solicitously. "Mademoiselle Agnes? May I get either of you a drink?"
"Thank you, no." Miranda answers, taking his arm. "I'm sure Count Courland will see that Agnes is attended to. I'd very much like it if you would permit me a dance."
"It would be my privilege," Florian responds, leading Miranda away while Ray tries not to fume. Seeing Florian settle his hand on Miranda's hip, Ray turns away to look at Agnes. "This way," he barks and half-drags her off to get something to drink.
Only the fact that he has to drive keeps Ray from drinking himself numb. Agnes follows him like a pathetic stray and no matter where they go Ray hears people talking about him, or Florian. As they are rarely seen at social events like this, it is easy to forget how vicious the gossip can be. But now, with Florian and Miranda never leaving the dance floor, refusing all offers for other dance partners, the gossip is in full force.
One half-deaf old woman, dripping twice her weight in jewelry makes her opinions known to anyone within shouting distance, which unfortunately includes Ray. She pronounces him a loan sharking deviant with a taste for young men. Miranda is painted as a black widow, luring men only for her pleasure.
Ray listens to it, unnoticed, until the woman dares mention Florian. Before she finishes her sentence, condemning the young Rochefort as a whore, Ray marches up to her and offers his hand.
"Count Courland, Madame. Since you seem compelled to use my name so freely, I thought you should at least know to whom it is attached." He leans closer in the guise of kissing her hand and adds quietly, but clearly: "Unless you would like me to share the details of your son's dealings with this 'loan sharking deviant', I suggest you reconsider what you were about to say - now and in the future."
The woman stammers and pulls her hand away. Those around her who have been listening avidly are watching with interest. Ray looks around and smiles in a way that causes those closest to back away.
"I'm sure all of you have better things to do than discuss me or my companions." No one replies, but a few nod. Ray shows just a glint of teeth and walks away.
"What was that about?" Florian asks urgently, putting out his hand to stop Ray's rapid pace. He's breathing a bit raggedly and his face is damp with perspiration.
"Nothing to worry about. Where's your date?" Ray isn't in the mood to be nice. He grips Florian's hand and drags him towards the nearest servant, snatching two flutes of champagne and shoving one at Florian. "Sit down, there, and drink this. You look like you're going to collapse." He turns back to the servant. "A pitcher of water and some plain biscuits."
While the servant goes to get the requested items, Ray takes a handkerchief and waves it at Florian. "You're dripping wet, at least wipe your face."
Florian obeys meekly, looking up at Ray with a weak smile. "You shouldn't let a group of old gossips bother you so much. People always talk."
"Then let them talk about someone else for a change." He looks around and frowns in irritation. "Where is Madame Harrison?"
"She and Agnes went to freshen up. It was getting quite warm on the dance floor and people kept interrupting us."
"I've never seen you dance before. You're not bad."
"My mother would thank you for that. She was a very demanding teacher." Florian grimaces in a way that makes Ray wonder just how long it had taken Florian to learn to move with such fluid grace.
"Did you see what you wanted?" Florian seems eager to change the subject. "I believe Miranda will be ready to leave soon."
"I've seen enough," Ray replies, turning towards the returning servant. He waits for the items to be placed on a small table nearby, then motions the man away and pours the water himself, handing it to Florian with the command to 'drink this - slowly'.
Florian drinks half, then accepts one of the plain cookies. He has a weakness for shortbread and Ray makes a point to indulge him. He has finished his second cookie when Miranda and Agnes return, looking much fresher than Florian.
"I seem to have overdone things," Miranda comments with a smile for Florian. "I hope you won't mind if I make it an early evening?"
"Not at all." Florian had risen to his feet as soon as he'd seen Miranda approaching. He takes her arm once again and leads her towards their host to thank them, so they can make a proper exit. Retrieving their coats from the servant by the door, they wait in the foyer until their car is brought around. It is cool now and the two women huddle together in the backseat as they ride back to their hotel.
Florian insists on escorting them inside, but Miranda refuses to let him accompany them to their rooms. She tells him he looks flushed and sends him off with instructions to drink tea and go right to bed. Florian nods politely and returns to the car where Ray is waiting impatiently.
"Next time we take the carriage," Ray states as they stand in the foyer of their home, shedding coats and handing them to Luc to be brushed and properly tended. He looks over at Florian who has a rather closed off expression on his face. "Go take a bath and get ready for bed. I'll tell Laila to bring tea up to your room."
Florian offers a small smile and goes off without a word. Ray watches him and frowns, debating whether to follow when Florian pauses and turns back to say, "Be careful tonight."
Ray nods and watches until Florian is out of sight.
XXXXX
"Should I ask?" Florian wonders when Ray joins him for breakfast.
"About what?" Ray's satisfied smile gives Florian the answer he is seeking. He leaves it at that. He really doesn't want to know what possession the Spanish Ambassador will find missing. He'll read about it in the evening paper.
"Never mind. I should get started on the bills." He rises to leave the table only to have Ray stop him with a touch. "You overdid it last night." He reaches up and presses the back of his hand to Florian's forehead. "You've got a fever. Go tell Monsieur Renault and the kid that you can't play with them today and go back to bed."
Florian opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again and nods. He leaves the room without further comment and Ray hears him walking down the hall towards the conservatory which serves as Noel's classroom.
He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. He's in no mood to deal with Florian in one of his melancholies. Hopefully it is just overexertion and he'll be right by supper. Meanwhile, Ray has work to do - there is a lovely new set of jewels that needed appreciation.
XXXXX
Florian is curled up on his bed, face turned towards the wall. He feels ill, but not because of the fever. He'd had one of those dreams last night - the first in weeks. He thought he'd finally put everything that had happened in Morocco behind him, but it keeps coming back.
Tears slide down his face but he doesn't bother to wipe them away. Why make the effort when there will only be more to replace them? He never knows what triggers those dreams, but he suspects some of it was the gossip he'd overheard at the ball. Three men had been talking about him. He'd tried not to listen but they were close and didn't seem concerned about who might hear them. Florian missed some of it because of the music, but there had been a lull between pieces and he'd heard some quite clearly: his mother's pride had ruined the family and he'd gotten what he deserved.
Florian remembers hearing that phrase before, when he'd been bound and helpless on the floor in Isaac's house in Morocco, with no memory of who he was and fear of an unknown man driving him half mad. He'd had no defense against Isaac's pronouncement - no context for what he had done to deserve such pain and fear. Even now that he has full awareness of what Azura had done to him, he has no absolution. Had he gotten what he deserved?
He curls up tighter, hugging himself against the memories that are still too fresh. More than a year later he can remember the pain. The fear. The shame. He doesn't need a nightmare to bring it back, it's always there, too near the surface.
More tears fall and Florian chokes back a desperate cry. He aches so deep inside he'll never be free of it.
Someone knocks softly on his door and he bites his lip hard to keep from making a sound. He can't let anyone see him like this - so helpless - so pathetic.
Another soft knock and then a long pause before light steps take the person away - probably Noel wanting to check on him.
Florian turns his face into the mattress and sobs.