I don’t want to beat around the bush with an intro, so let’s just dive right into the next chapter. As always, leave your suggestions/constructive criticisms in the comment section or send me an email with your feedback!

Meg bounces up and down with delight, shrieking and clapping her hands. Angelique’s hand moves to her mouth, her face flushed and a grin forming as her other arm drops limply to her side.

“Read it again! Read it again!” Meg pleads.

Angelique shakes her head, biting her lip. “I don’t think I can, Meg,” she breathes. “It’s all too wonderful.”

“Oh, then give it to me!” Meg takes the letter from Angelique’s grasp, reading over the looping handwriting again:

Mademoiselle Léglise, I hope that this letter finds you well. I know that a single week feels too short a time to take up acquaintance again, but believe me, those seven days have been an absolute effort for me not to seek you out. I hope that on this day, you and your sister Mademoiselle Giry might join me and my brothers for a picnic luncheon in the park. I shall send a coach for you at precisely eleven o’clock, and if your answer is no, please send my coachman back with a token for me so that I might know. Mademoiselle, these days and nights have been filled only with the thought of you: I pray that you will come. Do say you’ll come, please? Cordially, Gustave Alphonse de Fontaine, esq.

Meg can hardly contain her excitement as she and Angelique twirl about their room. They both collapse on her bed in a fit of laughter. Meg sighs.

“Oh, isn’t it so romantic?” she says. “He’s been pining for you since the night you danced!”

Angelique can’t help but flush. “I suppose it is…but how do I know this isn’t a ruse?”

“It couldn’t hurt to find out!” Meg states. “Come now, put on your best dress!”

Angelique smiles, shaking her head at Meg’s enthusiasm. She is intrigued to say the least, but she is also wary. After her discussion with Gérard, she’s a bit more hesitant to take a step in this direction. Of course, she reminds herself, she did say that if Gustave asked to pursue her, she’d say yes—if at least to test the waters. She rubs her necklace, looking up at the ceiling as if asking it for conformation.

Angelique’s contemplation is interrupted by Meg’s throwing of a bonnet in her face. She sputters, tosses it to the floor, laughs. Meg was right: what had she to lose if this was just a ruse?

—

Madame Giry consents to their outing reluctantly, much like how she hesitated a week since. The girls dress in their finest Sunday clothes—the only fitting garments they could find for the occasion. The coach and driver arrive promptly at eleven o’clock, as promised in Master de Fontaine’s letter, and having loaded its cargo, the horse takes off at a trot.

Meg and Angelique giggle and whisper in their excitement, wondering what array of surprises awaits them. When they arrive at their destination, they certainly aren’t expecting the trio of gentlemen to greet them at the gate.

Gustave is the first to step up, and with a charming grin, he takes the ladies’ hands as they dismount from their chariot.

“Welcome,” he says. “I can’t tell you how overjoyed I am that you accepted my offer, mademoiselle.”

Angelique curtsies. “Believe me, it was quite a joy receiving your invitation. Isn’t that correct, Meg?”

Meg suppresses a smile and curtsies herself. “A pleasure to meet you, monsieur.”

Gustave nods and lifts Meg’s hand to his lips. “The pleasure is all mine, Mademoiselle Giry. Well, I suppose now that I’ve met your sibling, it is only fitting that you meet mine. Mademoiselles Léglise and Giry, my brothers: Devereaux and Laurent de Fontaine.”

The elder brothers nod in turn, but something about their demeanor doesn’t sit well with Angelique. Their tight smiles, their cordiality. She shakes the thought out of her head. She is determined to enjoy herself this afternoon.

Gustave leads them through the park to an aged willow tree, its brands budding with catkins and new leaves. A fine amalgamation of delectable foods supply their luncheon: from finger sandwiches to macrons. Ever the gentleman, Gustave allows the young ladies to take their seats first, following suit with his brothers.

The party fill their plates with treats, and it’s all Angelique can do not to reprimand Meg from sipping her tea too noisily. It doesn’t seem to her that anyone notices: well, at least not Gustave. Every time she glances at him, he turns his gaze to a trinity of grass blades he has been braiding together. Finally, she clears her throat, setting her tea aside.

“Messieurs de Fontaines,” she says, addressing the elder two, “I’m terribly sorry not to have made your acquaintance at your brother’s ball.”

Devereaux looks up from his book of poetry, waving a dismissive hand. “Think nothing of it, mademoiselle,” he says. “Our baby brother tells us so much about you that it seems we did meet.”

At the utterance of the syllables ‘baby brother,’ Gustave’s gaze drops to his lap, his face flushed. Angelique takes notice, and in an attempt to save Gustave the embarrassment, she asks, “Indeed, what has he told you?”

“All good things, we assure you,” Laurent answers vaguely.

Angelique isn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or a blow: the look in the elders’ eyes as they speak betrays their words. Of course, she is the only one to notice: Meg begins to prattle on about the messieurs’ achievements in hunting and sports, while it is clear the two brothers humor her as she flatters them. Meanwhile, Angelique takes another glance at Gustave, who has set his grass plait aside and now takes up the same project with three willow fronds.

“This isn’t going the way you thought it would, is it?” she whispers.

Gustave purses his lips, before shaking his head in answer. “I thought my brothers would put off being clouts for one day,” he admits. “At least since you and your sister are present.”

“I’m sorry,” Angelique replies.

“No, I’m the one who is sorry. I shouldn’t have invited you, and now you’re insulted.”

“No, I’m not insulted, monsieur. And you never have to apologize for being charitable. Truly, I’ve had a lovely time.”

Gustave looks incredulous for a moment, then he smiles. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You’re the first person I’ve met who doesn’t humor me about charity. It’s rare that I find a kindred spirit.”

Angelique blushes. “Well…I’m glad, monsieur.”

“Please, call me Gustave, mademoiselle.”

Angelique smiles. “If I am to call you Gustave, I suppose you may call me Angelique.”

Gustave nods. “Alright then, Angelique.”

They hold each other’s gaze before finally Gustave turns away, checking his pocket watch. “Ah!” he says aloud. “I had no idea it had gotten so late. Shall we see you ladies off then?”