The celebration had originally been to celebrate an engagement or birthday, but with the excitement of the week whomever the soir�e was initially meant to honour was positively forgotten. Scarcely three days had passed since that monumental uprising which saw the fall of the Bastille, the murder of several of those guarding it... to think that the quiet, stuttering Camille Desmoulins played its harbinger. Camille Desmoulins who had but two� three weeks before sought her aid in getting his pamphlets published. So much changed so quickly, Marguerite thought to herself. But then, hadn�t she suspected this? Many of the same men who led the revolt patronized her salons, had in fact suggested violent action might be necessary in acquiring the equality they all desired. Yet, in all her visions of a greater France, none included men hung from lampposts... tempers being what they were it couldn�t be wholly unexpected. And much to her great relief Armand avoided being martyred to the cause, when he joined the ranks of those marching on the Bastille. To think it had only been three days.That very day had seen another pivotal hallmark, the king himself had traveled to the capital and, to please the crowds, donned a tri-colored cockade, that within hours was all the fashion. Upon arriving at 32 Rue de Rivoli, Marguerite noted many men present already bore the device on their coats. Also upon arriving Armand left her abruptly to the company of a few of her female acquaintances and disappeared amongst the guest. Marguerite guessed that it was due to one of two reasons: he spotted one of those revolutionary leaders he idolized or he had spotted Angele St. Cyr, the titled daughter that occupied the remainder of his thoughts. It was likely the later.

As she chatted with her colleague, Simone Laferriere, her eyes traveled over the faces of the crowd, many of whom she knew. As she took each face in turn she tried to remember the occasion for which this gathering had been called and for whom it was intended, a difficult feat when all conversations were of the taking of the Bastille, the king�s actions that morning and how the National Assembly should proceed. Poor Percy would arrive to find the words on everyone�s lips where of the topic he loathed above all: politics. To think that this is intended to be a reprieve from the talk of her salons.Marguerite felt his eyes upon her before she picked his face out of the crowd � Chauvelin! How was it that he managed to appear everywhere she went?

Marguerite had felt as reluctant to offer Chauvelin her hand as he seemed to be equally as reluctant to release it. It was a credit to her exceptional talent as an actress that she maintained a sweet, carefree smile upon her lips under Chauvelin's uncomfortably possessive gaze. Not to say that Chauvelin was entirely without charm... he possessed an incredible mind and the ability to command the obedience of those he worked with... when he wasn't sulking in a corner of the room casting vindictive glances at men who seemed to have an interest in her.

He was also not unattractive, a little older with a distinguished look about him... and he did hold a position of influence which might prove useful in the days ahead. And yet there was something in his eyes that was disconcerting... though they seemed to soften when they gazed into her eyes, their natural state seemed to cold and hard, appraising, calculating... When his eyes followed her she felt a cold shiver run down her spine, unlike Sir Percy, whose gaze she could bask in like rays of warm sunshine. Many said the Chauvelin was a better match for her, so many things they shared in common, yet she felt no attraction to him (quite the contrary, in fact). She flirted and flattered him to a degree as she might any number of men who she felt it best to keep in good stead, but it would be a cold, cold day before Chauvelin saw anymore of her home that the salon.

"My dear little Chauvelin, you flatter me," Marguerite said playfully. "I am pleased to see you look well. My brother mentioned meeting you three days and told me you sent your regards, I'm honoured you thought of me at all that was transpiring."

Marguerite�s eyes widened in disbelief and blushed violently. Simone laughed outright, �Be careful, M. Chauvelin. Your complements may swell Mlle. St. Just�s head and throw off the symmetry of that �perfect� form.� Simone laughed so hard that she thought she might pop a stay, others turned to see what was going on. Marguerite gave her a reproachful look and the younger actress�s laughter abated.

When heads turned back to their previous conversation, Marguerite responded, �Such things you say, M. Chauvelin, are best said in discreet circumstances not in social occasion. I am flattered by your complements, but I�m certain there are better times and places to make them.� Chauvelin�s eyes harden for a moment and Marguerite hastened to make light of the situation. �You wouldn�t want poor Simone to perish of fits when the day was turning out so well.�

Simone, taking the not to subtle hint that Chauvelin wanted to speak privately with Marguerite, excused herself to speak with a gentleman of her acquaintance, leaving Marguerite alone to entertain Chauvelin. Marguerite smiled sweetly at Chauvelin, while scanning the crowd for a friendly faces, much to her regret the eyes she met where even more lust-filled than Chauvelin�s. �Armand? Oh yes, he�s here... probably speaking with the Marquis�s son...� or mooning after Angele.

No Armand, no Percy... she�d glimpsed one who was unmistakably English, but no one she knew. Trapped in the company of Chauvelin, even Robespierre seemed a more favorable option � eunuch that he was. Marguerite noted that Chauvelin, like many other men in the room, wore the tri-colored cockade that likely everyone would be wearing by the following morning. The blue, white, and red emblem blazed out against Chauvelin�s typically black attire. Always black... it gave him the appearance of an undertaker or one who was perpetually in mourning. It created the illusion that his flesh was paler than it might appear in any other color, and made his already pale eyes all the more so. Chauvelin was a small man, scarcely taller than herself, with thin talon-like hand and. for his lover�s sake, Marguerite hoped that Chauvelin was not entirely proportional � if such were the case it might explain his temperament.

She wanted to ask him how he managed to acquire an invitation to this gather, how he managed to make an appearance wherever she went, but instead, �What is your opinion of these hangings? Do you think we�re likely to see many more of them?�

�But surely you can�t condone these actions,� Marguerite responded. �It is true that a change must occur... but not at the cost of the souls of the people. These actions, if they are allowed to continue, will harden the hearts of the people. It can not going or else we will because worse than those we seek to oppose.� It was not Chauvelin�s words that disturbed her so much as the manner in which they were spoken � at times apathetic, at times approving. �Violence may have proved useful on one occasion, but it is not the way to build a foundation.�

Once used it is far easier to justify the use of violence, until horrors are considered natural. �I fear that it may become a matter of petty vengeance� this resentment amongst the classes, could it not be used as a means of stacking the playing field as opposed to leveling it?�

Marguerite stood her ground, even though it meant allowing Chauvelin closer proximity to her. Chauvelin�s eyes flashed triumphantly as he drew nearer, his voice more husky. She had seen Chauvelin argue vehemently with others during her salons... and yet his efforts seemed less like proving a point and more like attempt to seduce her. She smiled, more to herself than to Chauvelin, it would take more than quoting Machiavelli to impress her. "�And one should bear in mind that there is nothing more difficult to execute, nor more dubious of success, nor more dangerous to administer than to introduce a new order to things...� Yet I find it intriguing, M. Chauvelin, that you would deem to quote a book entitled The Prince," Marguerite chided, taking great delight in the surprise that flickered through Chauvelin�s normally cold, pale eyes - she had surprised him. Had he underestimated her knowledge, or finally realized she was possessed of some intellect?

He quoted Rosseau. Jefferson. And she matched him measure for measure, it had been a slightly amusing game until it became apparent that Chauvelin had been reduced to quotes without a single idea of his own. Then game became rather tedious and she contented herself to listen patiently, hoping that Simone would return soon (whoever he was must have been quite a find to have occupied her for so long) or that Armand might break away long enough from his pursuit of St. Cyr's daughter to rescue her from Chauvelin's wit. The argument was soon abandoned and Chauvelin continued on... he was preening, trying to impress her and probably would have succeeded better if he hadn�t been edging around the seat to view her physique. For a man who claimed to admire her brain, Chauvelin seemed to have been staring at her breast for an obscenely long time. He had slowed maneuvered himself into a position that gave him as ample a view as anyone was likely to get. One might think he was searching for something he'd lost - well, if he made the slightest gesture to indicate he meant to retrieve it, she would certainly cry out.

"Ahh, if it ain�t Monsieur le petit Chauvelin!" came a familiar, heavily Lyonaisse accent. Percy�s arrival had quite a different effect on Marguerite than it had on Chauvelin, she smiled with delight at the sound of Percy�s voice and gasped as Chauvelin nearly stumbled into her lap, fearing at first that he had found his lost artifact. She giggled as he righted himself � perhaps now he would stop ogling her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Chauvelin glare at Percy, ridged as stone, but if Percy noticed he had shown not the slightest indication. Instead, attempting to demonstrate his endeavors to increased his fluency of her language and exhibiting the miniature volume to which he credited the improvement. �Hear how m�French is improvin�?� he asked, though truth be told the novel had helped but very little.

�So it is, my dear Percy!� Marguerite laughed. �Soon you will be speaking like a native.� She wondered if it was entirely for her benefit that Percy had renewed his study of the language, knowing what little she did of him it was within his character. His eyes sparkled as she extended her hand to him, which he gratefully accepted, with his eyes he conveyed many things that words failed to put to justice. Had they been alone she might have shown him her gratitude for his timely intervention... Until now she had not fully appreciated the significance of Percy's presence at her salons, since he had begun attending there were fewer men attempting to behave in the manner that Chauvelin had, even Armand's presences never had such a great effect... perhaps it was due to the fact that he towered over them, something that help even if the individual was unable or unwilling to fight.

It wasn�t until Percy had addressed him that she realized that Chauvelin was still lurking about � it might have been logical to assume that he would take the hint that he had given Simone. Percy amiably offered his hand. Chauvelin ignored it, rolled his eyes at Percy's commentary, and reproached him in tones that dripped rancor. She was certain that if she were not present, Chauvelin's ripost would have been more unpleasant. "My dear little Chauvelin, I fear that you were so preoccupied eliciting your points that you did not see Sir Percy offer his hand to you! Surely, you wouldn't want to appear discourteous!" Marguerite smiled sweet at him, stroking the hand that still held her with her thumb. Chauvelin, who looked as though he'd rather sever his own hand than to let it make contact with Percy's, extended his hand reluctantly to the other man who pumped enthusiastically (perhaps a little too much so). Turning to Percy, "M. Chauvelin and I had just been discussing the events of the last few days."

A secret?� Marguerite asked, receiving a knowing smile from Sir Percy indicating that he would not part with it until they had arrived at the location. She nearly entirely forgotten about Chauvelin and the awkward hour she had spent in his company save for the past thought, what would be the price for her little joke at Chauvelin�s expense and who would have to pay for it? Out in the corridor Chauvelin ceased to exist, there her mind was set on her present company � the enigmatical Percy. In the short time they had know each other she learned much about the young baronet, only to find she knew nothing at all. The details she wanted to know were given stintingly � almost as if they slipped out against his better judgment - and yet she yearned to know more. Of all the men she knew, the one she wished to know the most about was surprisingly tight lipped. There had to be ways of loosening that tongue of his. Her thoughts trailed back to the secret Percy spoke of... was it some secluded bower in which they might escape prying eyes? Some place less likely to be seen or interrupted than one of the bedrooms?His eyes sparkled merrily and Marguerite wondered how much more they might sparkle after a kiss. How incredible it was to be so loved! The emotion was so powerful that it linger long after they parted company � even if it was unrequited Percy seemed content� overjoyed merely to be in her presence. What surprised her most was the delight she took in being in his. Why were complements from his tongue that much more sweeter, more endearing then the plethora that came from so many others? He praised her she felt the color rise to her cheeks and she gripped his arm tighter. If only life could remain in that one sparkling moment�

�Your serious friend,� Percy asked, �does he ever think of anything besides blood and musket balls?� Another perfect moment ruined by Chauvelin. Her face fell a little and she ventured to peer behind them and for a moment she thought he caught a glimpse of him, but another proved it her imagination. �I�m sure there are other things that occupy his thoughts,� she said, then smiled up and him. �But enough talk of M. Chauvelin. Let�s not speak of him, or your cousin, or of the past few days� all I want to hear about is you.�

Marguerite never knew what to expect from Percy, most of the company she talked politics, talked theater or literature, gossip was always to be heard, or the usual praises of her performance, her wit and her beauty - there were only so many flowers to be compared to. Percy spoke of topics that most people took for granted, or avoided - he spoke of women drinking... not a new concepts, heavens no! But such talk was usually gossip whispered behind fans of the resulting escapade. It was refreshing to have a change, even if the topics seemed most unusual.

"Tell me what is the worst of your faults," Percy demanded abruptly, causing a nearby head or two to turn before they vanished in the passing crowd. "Mine is buying shoes." He stopped to show her his shoes, extravagant, costly things to be sure, pirouetting to show off the diamonds that flashed on the heels. Most people wouldn't see in a lifetime the amount of money those shoes probably cost. She smiled indulgently at him, if Sir Percy were possessed of a flaw it was in placing to much value on his wealth, in believing that it would gain him the happiness he sought. Perhaps he felt that it was his only endearing quality... did he not realize that he could have worn muddy boots it wouldn't have change her opinion of him? She was attracted to the man beneath the refinement, the one who appeared too infrequently - if money was his only appealing feature she wouldn't care one bit to know him better.

"Are you so ready to find faults with me already, darling?" Marguerite chided. "Or have you not already noticed them? My critics certainly do. They say I'm too demanding... and I suppose I am. But I supposed you had realized that when I told you I was most unwilling to share you with anyone else." They were at the terrace, where the crowd had thinned noticeably, when Percy caught a hold of her hand.

"Wait!" He demanded as he leapt down the incline, then extending a hand to her at the bottom of the stairs. "I need to see your shoes as you come down the steps. Are they as pretty as mine?" She descended slowly, lifting her skirt ever so slightly so that Percy would be afforded an excellent view of her shoes and ankles as she drew nearer. The effect was noticeable.

"Well, darling? Are they pretty? I doubt they compare to yours." She smiled as she took his hand at the bottom of the staircase, remembering the look he wore from another evening not so long passed.

"'A thicket of sensual pleasure'? Is that the secret that you and Etienne share?" Marguerite asked coyly. Some place secluded away from prying eyes... What do you want to do with me when we get there? she wanted to asked. It would be most intrigue to see what Sir Percy had in mind once they were alone. "It must be impressive indeed."

Marguerite stepped into the bower and was instantly overwhelmed by the sight around her� it took her very breath away. It was difficult to believe that such a place existed anywhere but in faery tales and in dreams. On the occasions she had visited the house never had he imagined a place of such beauty existed. Had she walked into a dream? Percy was there� but she had met him in dreams too. She turned to face him, so many questions. Is this place real? Am I dreaming you? How can such a place be?He was at her side in an instant, "Wild roses! Imagine findin' such a thing here in this formal garden.� She listened delightedly as he spoke of his love of roses and his unsuccessful attempts to replicate the beauty around them. The more she came to know the man, the more she wanted to know. Every time she thought she knew him she found she didn�t know him at all. He plucked a rose from the tree and placed it reverently in her hands. �More perfect than anything man could devise. I could never give you anything more special than this.� And the flower was perfect, not a flaw on a single petal, perfect in shape and color. As she looked at it she felt as though she could weep, so touching was the gift. More beautiful than any boutique, more precious than any gem� the only thing more precious he could give her would be his heart and had he not already given her than. He had shared with her something important to him, which was more touching that jewelry or restaurant or anything purchasable. She had misjudged him, he did understand her.She looked up into his sparkling blue eyes, she want to thank him, but no words she formed seemed enough to convey her gratitude for such a gift. She got up on tiptoe, and still Percy had to stoop a bit, �Thank you� she whispered into his ear, then kissed him lightly upon the lips.

Marguerite held her breath and waited for her kiss to be returned and was more than slightly disappointed when the kiss didn�t come � surprised actually. It had never failed before, had she offended him? His eyes were filled with passion, why hadn�t he kissed her? "My life is complete now that you�ve kissed me. If I�m run over by a carriage, I will still die happy," he whispered. A sweet sentiment, but it failed to explain why he declined her invitation. Instead of pulling her closer, he let her go, took her hand and bestowed it all the tenderness she had expected him to bestow upon her lips. Was this how it was done in England?

She watched almost enviously as her hand received all the favour she had hoped for herself� had she been to forward? What a strange puzzle it was. Should this part not have not have come before she kissed him? She twirled the rose between her finger and wondered. Perhaps he was unaware of how things were done in France, that was the argument she convinced herself of to soothe her injured pride.

�I must confess, my darling, that it is rare for me to extend such invitation,� she told him, studying the rose in her hand. �And never before has it fail to be accepted. Perhaps things are different where you come from�� Why did she feel so hurt that he didn�t return her kiss? �� I only hope I haven't offended your standards.� Did all Englishmen act like this?

Marguerite looked into Percy's eyes, which betrayed his desire for her. He must respect her if he was willing to fight back that intense longing that she saw there. How strange it was for her to be the one to ask for kisses! There was never a wish or reason to before.

She sat closely beside him, her shirt billowing out around them, and ruffled his hair. Percy was perfect, too perfect to be real. Attractive, sweet, and he respected her. "My love, always remember this... you cannot take liberties if I am giving them to you." She kissed him again and was pleased to find a response closer to what she had expect. Had she know he was capable of such kisses she would have kissed him sooner.

�You do love me." He told her and she could see he believed it. They had known each other for such a short span of time and yet he was already confusing affection with love, desire with love. She tensed, worried that she would have to set him straight on the matter when he continue. �Don�t admit it. Words lie where kisses cannot. I will admit it�s early to feel so much � you can cloak yourself in that for modesty�s sake � but I know you do love me.� She breathed a small sigh of relief, grateful that she could delay shattering his illusion. Her heart was filled with pity for this poor misguided man, he deserved a woman who could return his love - however she was too weary of love to be the one. Love had spoiled many an actress and she would not be so ready a victim.

Perhaps it was that garden that filled him with such delusions, it was easy enough to lower one's inhibitions amid that beauty. Hadn't Percy told her that it was a place of such sensual pleasure that she would never recover? Perhaps it was the perfection of the moment that inspired some feeling in her that Percy might mistake for love. It certainly had an effect on them both. Percy appeared overjoyed, ecstatic, insisting on every quadrille. She felt sure nothing could disturb the perfection of that moment, even the accusation that she loved him.

"How very unexpected it is to find you here Mademoiselle Saint-Just," came the icy, sullen tones. Chauvelin, forever appearing in time to spoil a moment. His face was pale and his mouth set in a straight line, his eyes flashed in a predatory manner. Had he only just arrived or had he been watching them? she wondered for she had never seen Chauvelin stumble into any situation. He was always to be found watching until he was ready to enter... was that the case now.

"I would have thought you would have been keeping an eye on your brother before he seduces some girl and has her family down upon him," he asked and Marguerite gasped. Had Armand gotten into trouble over his infatuation with that silly little girl. She had warned him to steer clear of the Marquis' daughter, but Armand was impetuous and often let his heart dictate instead of his head. Has something happen? she asked Chauvelin with her eyes.

Marguerite cast a final look at Chauvelin as he ushered her away, was he aware of something that she wasn�t? Had Chauvelin merely noticed Armand�s infatuation or was he aware of people intending to do her brother harm. Marguerite looked around nervously at the crowd, as though she might see the plot unfold before her eyes. Why had she let Armand wander off? Wasn�t the main reason for her presence at the party to make sure Armand didn�t get into trouble?

The population on the terrace had swelled since they had left it only moments ago, and there amongst them stood Armand speaking with St. Cyr�s renegade son and casting sidelong glances to a large group on the other side of the terrace. �Ah, here is someone you may wish to know,� Percy said as a young woman peeled herself away from the group and bounded towards them across the lawn. Marguerite noted that Armand followed her movement until the girl intercepted them at which point he make eye contact with Marguerite, then looked down. �Have you met Mademoiselle de Saint Cyr?� Angele St. Cyr. So this was the child that captured Armand senses along with his heart. She had never met the girl before, but had assumed her a great beauty from Armand�s descriptions. Though she was not Venus personified as Armand would have her believe, Marguerite saw that Angele did have an aura about her that likely drew men to her like moths to a flame � if Armand got too close to this flame it was likely that he would singe his wings.

�Enchant�, Mademoiselle de Saint Cyr,� Marguerite greeted her, then glanced at Percy wondering what had motivated him to introduce her to the girl. Could it have truly been coincidence that he would bring them face to face?

Angele giggled at the suggestion that she might be some source of terror, and looking at the child it would seem silly to think it and yet there was the possibility that Armand pursuit of her would lead him to harm. Surely the Marquis would be in a fury at the thought that someone like Armand would despoil his precious daughter. And Percy seemed to be taking some delight in make the little man squirm � why did Percy make such efforts to anger Chauvelin? Didn�t he know how dangerous the man could be? Chauvelin was close to the rising powers in France, could use the growing animosity against the nobility to lash out against Percy � a vindictive mob would bother to ask if the aristo they were hanging was foreign or one of their own.

Marguerite avoided meeting Chauvelin�s eyes, but could feel them upon her, boring into her, instead watched Angele who seemed to be enjoying the exchange between the men. �Many heinous acts have been perpetrated on behalf of such �fresh-faced� children...� Chauvelin stated and Marguerite�s eyes were upon him in a flash. He knew something. Why did not tell her... or was this some punishment for abandoning him earlier in favor of Percy? She looked back at the terrace and spied Armand watching them again � why couldn�t he be more discreet?

Marguerite listened to Percy�s attempts to dislodge Chauvelin from the little circle wishing that she could convey to Percy the futility of his efforts. Chauvelin would leave when he wanted to leave and could not be dissuaded to do otherwise. Percy would only succeed in incensing the little man, aided by the incessant giggling of Angele St. Cyr � and Chauvelin was obviously seething. Although she felt some satisfaction that Chauvelin was getting a taste of the discomfort to brought to others, Marguerite could help but wonder the repercussions of Percy�s word and who would feel Chauvelin�s wrath. Perhaps Chauvelin�s thinly veiled comments were not warnings, but threats and he intended poor Armand to pay for her scorn.

Marguerite glanced once more at the terrace, but it was not Armand who caught her eye but Simone toting a fair-haired nobleman and proudly displaying her catch. How unlike her! Usually, when Simone took a fancy to a man, the fellow could scarcely walk straight afterward, or if he was less than satisfying she would quickly have leave of him. Perhaps she found a man who could match her appetite. She smiled and waved to Simone, who returned her gesture with a wink � Marguerite was sure the details of the encounter would be forthcoming. As Marguerite was preparing to introduce her approaching college, she felt warm breath upon her neck and was disappointed to find Chauvelin rather than Percy leaning into her.

�A word in private, Mademoiselle St. Just.� His voice chilled her and before she could ask a question, he was excusing himself from the group and pulling her along with him, spewing his vitriol as they moved away. �You are playing a very dangerous game, Margot... I thought you were better than that, Margot, ... Just imagine if it had been anyone else who saw...� How dare he berate her like this! Question her actions, her reputation � was he it because she bestowed her favours on another while rejecting his advances? She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, felt her lower lip tremble in anger as he stopped and faced her. His words confirmed her suspicions, he spoke of his feelings and continued with his vague warnings, leading Marguerite to the conclusion that he knew nothing more than she did.

�If anyone is to evoke the Marquis�s wrath, M. Chauvelin, it is likely to be the man who insults his daughter in his own home,� Marguerite returned removing her arm from his. �In the past I have suffered your abuse of my guests on my own house, I do not think that St. Cyr will be so indulgent.�

Grateful for Simone's timely rescue, she set a rapid pace back across the lawn. Giving Simone a stern look at the suggestion that she would favour Chauvelin over nearly anyone. "Really, Simone, you should know me better by now!" Marguerite had a sense that even now Chauvelin was following them, could feel his eyes on her back, but avoided the urge to glance back to be certain. She had had enough of Chuavelin for the day. The one benefit of the encounter was that she had confirmed her suspicions of the type of man he was... dangerous to be certain. If that was how he behaved with those he cared for, imagine what he might do to others. It was possible that he might rile up St. Cyr or arranged a nasty encounter for Sir Percy, she would have to tred carefully with Chauvelin and try to dissuade Armand for his own sake.

"You seem to be acquiring quite a collection of jewelry from your admirers," Marguerite remarked as Simone brandished the ring that was too big for her fingers. "I'm amazed you left this one walking... or was the ring given to assure that he could continue to do so?"

"life isn't all about jewelry and lovers," Marguerite replied, though on occasion the later could be useful. "Besides who's to say that Percy would accept your 'comforts' if he couldn't have mine? I'm sure not all men are powerless to your charms." Would Percy run into Simone's eager arms? He seemed sincere or was he? But the moment she saw Percy's face light up at her approach, Marguerite's doubts vanished. She wondered why she was so upset at the thought of Percy in her friend's arms.

"Percy, my darling, I would like you to meet Simone Laferriere, my understudy at the Comedie Francaise," Marguerite said as Percy joined them and took the hand she offered him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Chauvelin station himself like a sentry at her side. Didn't the man have the sense to know when he wasn't wanted?

Marguerite watched as Simone slunk away from Percy, an unflattering look of distain curling the edges of her mouth, and reattached herself to Sir Andrew�s arm. She likely planned to recoup her losses through the Scotsman, who seemed too interested in the activities of someone that was obscured from her vision to notice Simone�s bid for Percy. Simone gave Marguerite a resentful look making Marguerite wonder if the girl hadn�t set her sights Percy cravat pin. Marguerite batted her eyelids expressively at Simone�s irritation � did she really think that she could steal him away. Silly girl.

At least it was likely that Simone learn her lesson, which was more that could be said for Chauvelin. Marguerite didn�t even have to turn to know that he was glaring over her shoulder, likely choking on the bitter bile of his own anger. Anger at Percy, anger at her, anger at the world for not meeting the expectations he had of it. Stuck between Chauvelin and Simone, Marguerite grew uncomfortably aware of just how many people were present and longed for the privacy of that secluded portion of the garden and the pleasure of Percy�s company without so many distractions.

�My dear, etiquette dictates that we salute the happy couple," Percy murmured, offering his arm. Had he sensed her desire to get away from the press of people? If so, what other desires did he sense? Marguerite took his arm and walked with him back to the house.

�It would seem there is a great deal of ill will against you at this party, my darling,� Marguerite murmured. First Chauvelin, then Simone, who knows who else... perhaps when Armand had gone they might consider departing to a less tempestuous environment. �You mustn�t draw Chauvelin�s anger upon yourself, dearest. He has very powerful friends that are becoming more powerful everyday. I wouldn�t want to see hurt on my account.�

�Aren�t you worried your friend might be right?� Marguerite asked. Looking back, Marguerite saw that once again Chauvelin was in hot pursuit, nipping at their heels. Relentless was what he was. Chauvelin�s obsession partly frightened Marguerite, what extents might he go to to win her favour and what might he do if he couldn�t? And yet Percy laughed in the face of Chauvelin�s attempts to harm him. Was it bravery, foolishness, or ignorance that made Percy? She was having enough trouble keeping the wolves at bay with Armand, and now she had Percy to fret over.

�I don�t want to see you hurt, my darling,� Marguerite was shocked by the level of emotion in her voice, swallowed to suppress it. �And I certainly don�t want to be the cause of it.� What more could she say to warn him?

�Give me a moment to speak to Chauvelin.�

Marguerite suppressed a shudder as Chauvelin�s eyes consumed her. For all his words about his admiration of her mind, he certainly seemed wrapped up in her physique. He stared. She was nearly upon him when he finally had his fill of looking at her breasts � or had he averted his eyes unsatiated? When he spoke he stuttered, stumbled over his words � excellent. Men in this state, distracted by lust, were easier to deal with.

�My dear little Chauvelin, I have a favor to ask of you,� Marguerite affected tones that hid her disgust and were designed to give Chauvelin the impression that she admired him. �As we�ve been moving about the garden I�ve come to notice that we�ve been followed by a rather unpleasant looking individual.� Chauvelin blanched, took a defensive stance, but Marguerite interrupted him before he could speak. �I�m surprised you haven�t noticed him or his friends... or is that the reason you�ve played my shadow this afternoon? To protect me. And to think I thought you were jealous, I must forgive me.� She smiled, he was melting under her smile. �I must say that those men are giving me something of fright, I can only imagine what they are after. I really wish I could leave before one of them makes up his mind to act upon his instincts, but I fear leaving Armand alone here. As you said, I fear he might enter himself into some misunderstanding.� She told a deep breath before plunging on. Chauvelin would be opposed to her proposition, but if phrased correctly he might agree. It all depended on his desire to ingratiate himself to her.

�I was wondering if you would watch over Armand while I ask Sir Percy to take me home.� Chauvelin bristled, and Marguerite hastened to explain. �I would have asked Sir Percy to watch over Armand, but Armand has such high respect for you, my dear little Chauvelin, that he would listen to her advice where he might brush off the advice of a protective sister or an Englishman he barely knows.� At least that part was true. Armand did admire Chauvelin, respected him, followed his words to the letter. Part of the reason she gave Chauvelin such leeway was for Armand�s sake. �I would be ever so grateful if you helped me in this. He listens to you, heeds your advice more than my own. And this is something I fear Percy can be of no aid in. Would you watch over him for me? I fear that those men who have been pursuing might do him harm if I leave.� She wondered if she asked too much. It was a gambit, would it pay off?

Marguerite paused, he was calling her bluff. But Armand was unlikely to leave, not while he could be close to Angele. �I pray you case, my dear little Chauvelin... but if you are unsuccessful you agree to watch over him? Oh, do say you will,� she implored, and smiled as Chauvelin reluctantly nodded, turned to the terrace, and stomped away, casting an occasional glance back.

"I know neither very well to be honest," Marguerite replied, her eyes following the retreating figure in black. "I know they've attended performances, several members of the family have�" Marguerite watched Chauvelin make an aggressive gesture which was received by and responded to by a man in a dun-colored waist coat and breeches, the other fellow make a beeline to intercept Chauvelin as he reached the terrace and disappeared into the crowd with him. Chauvelin was up to something that was certain, but would he? Her eyes remained fixed on the place where last she'd see Chauvelin as id expecting him to reappear. She could allow those plans to succeed.

�You seem to know a great deal about lineage. Is it really so important who your ancestors are?� Marguerite asked, finally giving up hope of tracking Chauvelin or Armand in the crowd and looking up at Percy. �It has always been my belief that a man should be measured on his own merits, rather that those of a great-great grandfather. When I look at you, I don�t see the deeds of your ancestors I see you � what more is there to see? And yet in your world your status is based on the exploits of people long past�� Marguerite paused, wondering if the changer in his expression was because she had said something offensive, and hastened to apologize. �You must forgive me if my comments seem rude. I suppose it is difficult to see when one has not been raised in such circumstances.�

�Turn you upside down? Do I turn you upside down?� Marguerite laughed. �My darling, our parents can provide us many things, but not necessarily who we are. We can make that part for ourselves. My parents died when Armand and I were very young, had they lived perhaps I would be married off. Armand might have followed my father�s footsteps. However I have pursued my path, as has Armand. The names we have made for ourselves are not built upon our father but our own action. Just as you can forge who you are free of your father.�

�Forge who I am?� He acted as though she had asked him to take Atlas�s burden upon his shoulder, rather than casting it off. Why was it that Sir Percy regarded it as such a novel concept? An impossibility. Could he not see himself beyond the role his father laid out for him?

�It�s not so impossible, my darling,� Marguerite said, taking one of his hands in hers and examining the fine strong fingers. These were not the hands of a man used to hard work, long days of toil. There was strength� potential� in these fingers, if he had the mind to use it. �Men reinvent themselves everyday out of choice or necessity� There is no need to live in the shadow of another�s life� you are not him."

"Exactly how young were you when your parents died?" he asked her so unexpectedly that she stood there blinking in perplexity. It took her a moment to realize she had provoked this question. Why had she decided to open up like this? She never really spoke of the matter to anyone beyond her brother and Suzanne. With Armand the topic was rarely spoken � occasionally Armand would become reflective and speak on it and Marguerite would quickly put an end to the talk � he was younger and his memories were not so clear as hers. And she�d only spoken of it to Suzanne that once on a gray afternoon as they watched the rain beat upon the windows, making the world an indistinguishable series of gray streaks.

�They both died when I was nine,� she finally said still examining his name, following his lifeline with her fingertip. �There was and epidemic of the pox circulating. Armand was the first of my family to catch it, then me� my mother because ill whilst nursing us back to health� only she did not recover where Armand and I did� my father follow a few days later��She felt it best to omit how her father had crumbled after her mother�s death, how he seemed to ignore the presence of her and Armand at best and threw accusatory looks at them at worse, as though blaming them for their mother�s passing.

"Were you left with no one�?� Percy asked.

�I had Armand,� Marguerite smiled as she finally looked up at him. �When my father died we were placed in the care of cousins, they had no care to look after children and so I was sent to a convent and Armand to school. After we left school we left us primarily to our own devices, to pick our own path in the world. They did make certain that we were provided for, and for that I am most grateful. I sometimes wonder if they even know or care what Armand and I have made of ourselves. But I think we�ve done quite well for ourselves on our own merits.�

Marguerite colored noticeably when Percy drew attention to the fact that she had opened up in such a place, such revelations should only to be made in intimate surroundings to the closest of friends. A moment ago, it have seemed as though the world around them had slipped away, leaving only him. His ardent eyes filled with compassion, urging her to take chances were usually she remained reserved. Why did she continue to open up to a man she knew so little about? Instead of learning more about him she found herself revealing more of herself, whilst he remain more of a mystery. Each detail only adding to the puzzle rather than solving it � had she waded in waist deep or ankle deep thus far? Still the ocean seemed so vast.

Marguerite once again took the arm that Percy offered her, uncharacteristically trusting, not questioning where they were going. She could read concern for her in his eyes � tenderness � and instinctively knew that his intension were honorable. (The same instinct that motivated her to share her secrets?) �I find it strange that call my tale tragic,� Marguerite�s voice was low so that it would not carry to those they passed as they crossed the terrace and entered the house. �When I was at the convent a sister once told me that what is is the way it must be � �all things for a purpose�. I have since come to think that she should have told me �all things towards a purpose�. Have you ever considered all the steps that lead to something? Can anyone really conceive it? It is true we can make plans and see them to fruition, but do we see everything involved? I believe that every moment is the sum of all those that came before, and that everything that happens now serves as the framework for the next moment. A change anywhere along the way and the outcome is different. Not always greatly different, but it would not be exactly the same. These things you deem so tragic are the very things that make this moment possible.� Marguerite paused, wondering if Percy understood. �If my parents lived, if my relations raised me themselves instead of sending me to the convent � would I have become an actress? Would you have seen me on the stage, if not me then some other. If not for it all, would this moment be? Would you be here with me? If I regret too much will I not regret myself?�

Marguerite took a seat by the window, thankful for the refreshing breeze that it offered, and watched as Sir Percy departed by a bow. The tabby leapt down from the pianoforte and came to sit at her feet, looking up expectantly. Scratching behind it�s ear saw the thing in her lap, nudging her other hand hopefully. She stroked the cat an looked out onto the lawns wondering where Armand was, worrying he had gotten himself in trouble, or the price Chauvelin might expect if he were the one to get the boy out of it.

Marguerite thought she saw a figure in black crossing the lawn, but on second look it was gone � swallowed up by a crowd or merely a figment of her imagination. Was Chauvelin really plotting to do Percy harm? Likely. The look in the man�s eyes when he saw Percy was one of absolute hatred, envy. Why couldn�t he understand she had no interest in him? Percy on the other hand did hold her interest despite the fact that he represented the very thing she thought wrong with her own country. And yet there was more to him � there had to be! She had seen the indications, he was not like the rest. The door gave to open, hopeful it was Percy�s return and not Chauvelin found her out.

Marguerite giggled as Percy ousted the poor tabby from his perch in order to rest his head in it�s place. The cat stalked, indignantly to a chair in the corner of the room where it stared evilly at him, while Percy kissed Marguerite�s knee, eventually becoming bored by the spectacle and turning to cleansing it�s of the Englishman�s touch. Marguerite gazed affectionately down at the head cradled in her lap. He was becoming more confident. Had that pestilent, little Chauvelin been there, she was certain that the man would have turned a bold shade of purple, scowled and looked scandalized. As if he didn�t picture himself doing the same thing!

Marguerite set one of the glasses of champagne down on the window sill to free her hand to stroke Percy�s smooth cheek � was there anything more sensual then the contact of skin? She let her finger wander to his fair, soft hair � like stroking silk. Someone took great efforts to care for this hair, and so it was with great effort that she suppressed the urge to ruin the carefully arranged locks and run her fingers through it.

�I�ve had a minute to think, and I believe you�re right. Your tragic youth was meant for one reason only and that was to ensure that I found you�� Marguerite�s eyebrow raised skeptically, is that what he thought? It seemed a bit foolish � vain � to assume her life had been building up from the purpose of capturing Sir Percy Blakeney�s heart. Wishful thinking is what it was. (But if not this then what?) Her thoughts were interrupted by the feel of lacey brushing against her foot. Percy�s cuff. For an instant skin. She felt the temperature in the room rise by slow degrees.

"I wonder what it would take to convince you of my worthiness to be loved by you?� he asked, and began to list tokens to impress her. The lace continued to tickle her, cause a shudder to pass through her. �He-he-he! I felt that little shudder." Marguerite blushed. "Chocolate.� She exhaled, happy to let him continue on with the illusion that he had the answer. Matignon�s �clairs were deliciously divine, let Percy believe in that.

�� you also mentioned something about not wishing to share me. Not even with the likes of your dear friend Chauvelin." Marguerite paused, drew her hand away from Percy�s hair. �What do you mean?� she asked.

Yes, exactitude seemed to fit Chauvelin quite well. Chauvelin seemed to have no thought or consideraion that his presence oft times was simply unwanted. She endured the man for Armand's benefit and Percy endured him for her. Pity the little fellow couldn't take a hint. She took to stroked his hair again, admiring his pretty lashes and fine eyebrows. Nature had done Sir Percy a great service, how fortunate for Marguerite that someone else had swooped in... or was it? There was always that dark cloud of doubt that drifted overhead, why hadn't some titled daughter snatch the fellow up? Perhaps, it was because he thought he could purchase their affection, more than slightly insulting that was.

She was about to tell him he had no choice but to accept her lifestyle, if he wished to earn her favors, when she hear him say her name... not Madamioselle Saint-Just... none of the formal or affectionate ways he normally addressed her by. Marguerite. How exquisitely it seemed to roll off his tongue, intimately so... he was bold. She listened to hear if he would say it again, but it did not come. He began to fiddled in his pockets for his snuff box. He could get off that quickly.

She reached out and set one hand upon his shoulder to end his hunt through his apparel and bring his attention back to her. "Say it again. Say my name again. Your voice seems to breath new life into it."

"Why, Marguerite? Have I offended you?"

Offended! Far from it! Quite the contrary in fact� and that look! He was out to seduce her and performing an admirable job. Would he hold her in such high regard if knew the thoughts that lingered in her mind? �If you had offended me I would not have asked to pronounce it a second time.� She watched him tense, was he preparing to pull her into his arms and kiss her? Or would she have to kiss him again?

"If I might have the honour of making you my official mistress�" Percy�s proposal sobered Marguerite, cooled her blood. Another attempt to buy her - he thought her affections for sale. What couldn�t he have stopped while he was ahead? Did he think pride and principles things that only men possessed? Percy�s eyes fought desperately to soften her heart, it was too much to continue looking into them. She looked out the garden, hoping that he would have the sense to be silent. " . . . and a box at the opera," he trailed off.

She should get up and walk away, wash her hands of him. Was she so certain that there was something more to him? It was possible that she was wrong about him. That he was nothing more or less than a pampered nobleman who could afford a costly mistress. Yet she was not so much angry as disappointed. What was it she had seen in him? She needed to excuse herself to have some time to think.

�Percy, I�� But the words began to pour from him like blood from a wound. "I accept any terms you care to name, my love, if you will only accept me. Take my love. I give you myself, my name, my honour. Whatever you care to take." Desperate. His eyes were filled with fear. She placed a finger over his lips to silence him.

�Would you be so kind as to find me a glass of water? The weather has left me unspeakably parch.� She needed time to think away from his hurt-filled eyes.

Marguerite watched Percy wander out of the room like a kicked puppy. She hadn�t meant to crush his spirit, but she could abide the thought that he thought her an object for purchase even if it was done in the name of love. Love. How could anyone dare imagine buying such a thing? She felt an intense pity for Percy � he was merely demonstrating the failings of his class � but pity was not enough to excuse the act. She rested her chin upon her hand and gazed through the window at the comings and going outside � as if her answers could be found out there!

The trouble was that this was not the first time he had done such a thing. There was that afternoon at le Coin Comfortable not so long ago where he tried to barter for her favors. Likely he would try again. Why couldn�t he just try being himself rather than throwing around money? But then again what if he was being himself? What if she was wrong that there was more to him? What was it that made her want to delve deeper rather than turning him away? She couldn�t pinpoint exactly what it was that made her think that there was something more to the man, only that there was something... she felt it when he was near. That is, when he wasn�t trying to do something foolish like paying for a mistress. Or was that illusion? The fulfillment of the wish to be loved for herself rather than her appearance. He seemed to make efforts to make her feel unique, to feel that he respected her. If she were wrong though� it could all be a brilliant plan to catch a wearily prize. Her stomach turned at the thought.

If only she knew for certain. Perhaps it would be better for them both if they parted company... less painful than this... Percy could find himself a more obliging mistress � far from difficult to do � and she... well there was no shortage of potential lovers and maybe it was better to know their intentions rather than follow a dream...

The door opened again. Not Percy with the water, it was Chauvelin. Could she never be rid of the man? He was a veritable bloodhound when it came to tracking her. �I thank you, but you would do me a greater service by watching over my brother. My concern is more for him than anything else.�

Oh he was good! No longer the glowering wallflower, Chauvelin was making his wishes more than clear and doing an admirable job. He knew how to appeal to her pride and had hit upon the very doubts that had plagued Marguerite - how did Percy perceive her? At least Chauvelin's intentions were clearer.

As she turned to face Chauvelin, their eyes met, prompting him to draw closer. "And what do you see, my dear little Chauvelin?" Marguerite asked as felt he warm breath on her shoulder and neck. "Sir Percy manages to keep his eyes upon my face as we speak. Which leads me to ask, what are your intentions?"

It was a fair question. Similar to one she might have asked herself later that evening. What could Percy give her that would compensate for how thoughtlessly he acted? She had opened up to him, kissed him� and he spoke of paying for her services. In the garden everything seemed so perfect, he had given her a rose which she still held in her hand � twirling it as she thought � and she had given him a kiss. It was such a perfect moment � until Chauvelin showed up. The man had no sense of timing � or did he? He had be hounding her all day, had been rather cruel in fact when he found her with Sir Percy, where Percy�s cruelty might had been a result of ignorance.

�Something �more perfect than anything man could devise�,� Marguerite remembered Percy�s words as he gave her the rose. �Could you ever give me anything more special than that?� It wasn�t the gift, but the thought behind it. Could Chauvelin be so open with his feelings?

Marguerite's lips thinned in anger. Was every man convinced that of this? Percy. Chauvelin. Both had claimed to know her so well - they knew nothing about her. Never once had she asked them for gifts, in fact she shied away from such things. There were days when the nun's life had it's appeal, Marguerite thought to herself. Unfortunately she did not have the disposition, and after this career she no longer filled all the requirements.

"I refuse to listen to your insults, monsieur Chauvelin," Marguerite said coldly. "Please leave!"

Thick. Every man Marguerite knew was thick-headed and stubbornly so. Percy with his belief that if he heaped enough gifts upon her that she would love him � as if love were so easily given. No matter how often she tried to steer him away from that foolish concept, it always seemed to crop up whenever they were on the verge of making some progress. Then Chauvelin, who persistently hounded her steps, who train of thought was difficult to follow yet how steadfastly he clung to it. One moment he adored her, the next she was a whore. Seducing in one breath, insulting in another. The one thing that was clear was his jealousy. And there was no purpose in reflecting on the pig-headedness of those who attended her little gatherings. Then there was Armand. Armand who listened to his heart rather than sound advice and pursued that little Angele Saint-Cyr, thinking that the girl�s father would stand for such an affair to occur. Stubborn beyond reason!

Despite her demand Chauvelin remained rooted to the spot, continuing to judge her. She stood abruptly and swept past him, out the door, and down the hall. She would find Armand and ask that he take her home. She searched every face from Armand�s or Angele�s, he would likely be near her, following her like a puppy. They could pay their respects to the engaged couple and leave before the evening got any worse.

No Armand. No Angele. The faces she passed were vaguely familiar at times or completely unknown. Not even Simone was to be found, not that Marguerite expected to see her after she had snagged Percy's friend. And she did not dare look behind her. Chauvelin would be there, he was always there. She stopped as saw Percy approach. Rather hard to miss the fellow, as he stood nearly a head above everyone else in the room. What were the chances that he hadn't seen her? Not likely, since he was looking right at her as he approached, she hazarded a glance behind her, as predicted - Chauvelin. Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea as it were. Could she hope that Percy would have the good taste to avoid making any more offers? Or would she have to turn to Chauvelin for her brother's whereabouts? She wished she could have avoided them both for the rest of the evening.

An explanation. He deserved to be given that much of an opportunity. She reluctantly took the arm he offered her, let herself be led away once again without a backwards glance � let Chauvelin think what he wanted, it wasn�t as if her words could alter his opinion. Their destination was clearly not the garden this time, nor the music room � in fact the destination was unclear. Percy seemed to be picking their course on a whim, and all Marguerite could do was hurry to keep up.

"Damnation, I�ve got us lost this time!" Percy laughed as they slowed, peering hopefully in each direction. But time she did not share his laughter. Wanted answers and wondered whether receiving them would give her peace of mind or leave her looking the fool.

�If you were looking for privacy this is as good a location as any and better than most,� she said releasing his arm. �I doubt anyone would think to look for us here.� Anyone. She�d been thinking of Chauvelin. Picturing him like a wolf-hound trying to sniff them out, distinguishing their scents from the others. �You asked for the opportunity to explain yourself,� she prompted. Please don�t say I�m completely mistaken on him, she prayed to herself.

As Marguerite sat on the workbench, she wondered how much of Sir Percy's explanation she would be willing to listen to. She resolved that should Percy start to make another offer she would leave and ask that he pay her no more visits. She had to be firm on this... even if it meant breaking his heart. There was no point in investing her time in a man who thought her no more that a would-be possession.

"All I know is that you will leave and I will never see you again. That I cannot bear..." Had her thoughts been so apparent that he read them so easily, or was Sir Percy Blakeney accustomed to insulting women? It was possible that the man was accustom to having his face slapped, to having women stomp away in a temper. He sounded sincere, but how much could she trust a man who was unwilling to be himself. In the same breath as that tender declaration, he began to ramble on about cheese, chalk, and grandmothers. She stared at him in silent perplexity - was this his explanation?

He must have sensed her confusion for he started again, speaking of his love, his feelings, how miserable he would be without her in his life. And wanted to believe him. The words were heart-felt, his eyes begged her to believe him, to accept him. If only it were so easy. But he based his argument on feelings. emotions. He held too tightly to the hope of earning her love when she herself avoided doing that very thing. Had he turned a deaf ear to her comments that love ended badly? He seemed on the verge of proving her point.

"...we need to come to some agreement whereby you will allow me to spend time with you." Desperate. She let him continue until words failed, his eyes and heart continued when his voice gave up. It now rested upon her shoulders. She could forgive him or send him away - but it was not a decision she wished to make hastely. After all it effected the happiness of them both.

"Let us see how the evening progresses," she told him, non-commitally. It was probably less that he hoped for, but more than generous on her part.

He stood abruptly, offering her his hand. "If you have no objections, I�d like to join the dancers. Come, partner me, Marguerite." Perhaps he didn't take it so badly as she thought. She nodded and took his hand.

�A different path?� she echoed, quite at a loss to interpret this behavior. Clearly Sir Percy was not going to passively await her decision to keep or dismiss him.

If nothing else Percy�s premonition produced a definite change in him. No longer miserable and trailing after distant strands of music to find he way � now he seemed filled with determination and purpose. He appeared to have a plan, even if he was not inclined to share it with her. �You and I, my dear, must leave this place at once.�

�Leave?� she repeated with a little more conviction. �Where?� But the answer, in part, became apparent as Percy guided them straight out of the front door to face the endless row of carriages parked along the drive. As Percy issued his instructions to the footman, Marguerite stared at him in confusion and astonishment. �We won�t be gone for long. We won�t even miss supper. But we *have* to get away at once. You have to trust me about this � and it will all make sense.�

�But Armand...� she began to protest. As much as she would like to distance herself from Chauvelin, there was still Armand to consider. It was unlikely Chauvelin would continue to extend his protection to Armand after their last conversation.

"Let him enjoy the party!" Percy said to dismiss her hesitation and Marguerite wondered if he wasn't right. These were the very points Armand had argued this morning as Marguerite pleaded with him to be carefully in his pursuit of Angele Saint-Cyr. She had learning the uselessness of trying to persuade him to forget and hoped that if he insisted on following the girl about or on taking action to do so with the greatest care. He called her over protective, overbearing, and cynical and she accused him of being short-sighted and impulsive. Perhaps that is why he took off the moment they arrived and had made himself scarce ever since. She was lucky to catch sight of him across the lawns as Percy introduced her to the object Armand's infatuation. All she could do was pray to the heavenly father that Armand would avoid getting hurt.

Then again perhaps she was being a bit over-protective, Armand by all rights was a man now and should be able to look after his own affairs.

"There!" Percy drew her attention to the approaching carriage, and indeed what came to mind was a large spider. It was an open carriage - yellow with black leather interior led by a matching pair of blacks with white socks and blazes. The phaeton was unique there was no question, and she could imagine no one but Percy owning such a thing. If Simone caught sight of the thing she would certain turn a livid shade of green - one could only hope that her latest acquisition brought a carriage that was comparable. Which didn't strike her as the case. Marguerite giggled at the memory of Simone put off by Percy's disinterest, the carriage would make that snub all the worse.

And Percy was certainly making an effort to reclaim the ground he lost. What intrigued her most was the change that had overcome him. Confident. Commanding, when not long ago he had been begging her to accept him. This was the side of him that she had been trying to unearth, peeking out just when things seemed bleak. And things did seem bleak - after all weren't they both aware as they left the work room that they might part company never to meet again. And in a moment he sparked her interest again, dangling that carrot so that she drew nearer when she should be fleeing.

Marguerite accepted Percy's help into the carriage and arranged her skirt as Percy took the seat beside her. He acted as if the music room had never happened, as if the work room never happened, as if they had only just emerge from the rose garden. "Are you planning to show me another secret?" she asked, smiling. She was going to be more cautious this time, not let a kiss cloud her judgment.

�I wanted to remind you that I love you, Marguerite. Love you with my whole heart,� Percy told her and she tensed, bracing herself for the part that came next. This was the part where he would make the offer � an apartment and carriage and any number of other extravagant gifts. She shot a look at him, ready to respond, ready to demand he take her back. But when their eyes met he fell silent, whatever the next words were meant to be were lost as he turned back to the road and urged the horses to speed up. Marguerite rested her hand upon her hat to steady it as the wind ruffled her hair and the ribbons of the hat.

The ride was refreshing, she had to admit that. The sun was warm on her face, cooled by the gentle breeze, as a lush landscape passed along beside them, shades of green dotted with wild flowers, and broken only by the distance brook that lay ahead like a discarded black ribbon. The blacks rushed along guided by Sir Percy's strong, skillful hands. She found the experience extraordinarily pleasurable, it wasn�t often that she had the opportunity to ride through the country-side. How peaceful it was, how easy to forget her worries. Was this the effect he was hoping for?

Marguerite looked at Percy tentatively, admiring the handsome profile, and feeling slightly remorseful that she had cut him off with a glance. She had only assumed he was preparing to proposition her and hadn�t spoke since � what if he had intended to say something else? �Certainly your petit Chauvelin has some qualities to make a woman admire him . . .� he began again and Marguerite�s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Beside the immediate thought of wondering what these qualities could be, was the shock that it was Percy would made such a statement. Did he thing she admired the man? And not sooner had she thought this than Percy affirmed it. �You will do better to choose me; I will prove it.�

�Why would I compare you to Chauvelin?� Marguerite laughed at the thought. �The two of you are not even in the same league! Chauvelin is not even a considerate, darling.� She reached a hand up to graze her fingertip along his cheek. �But as I�ve said before, enough with talking about Chauvelin, he comes up often enough. When I�m with you I don�t want to speak of other men, except you.�

Eccentric that was a given. �I have been accused of eccentricity myself. It means nothing except the fact that we do not wish to be like everyone else,� said Marguerite, stalling � contemplating a response to the second part. But what if I can�t love you? she wanted to ask. Is it fair to give all your love and receive none in return? It was true she had grown rather fond of him... when he wasn�t being rudely insulting. She felt tremendous pity for Percy, almost guilty that she gave him false hope. �I can accept that that you are eccentric...�

Marguerite slipped her arm through his and rested her head lightly on his shoulder, taking care so as not to disturb his driving. She had to be honest, he deserved that much. �You say you love be with your whole heart... without question... but what if I can�t return that love? You admit we�ve known each other such a short time... and yet it is possible that such feelings may never grow in my heart.� She worried that she was being unnecessarily cruel to tell him this. �Is it right to accept your love when I can�t promise to return it? As I told you before, I don�t want to see you hurt... not even by me.�

No anger. No shouting. The only sign he gave that something was amiss, Marguerite felt through the tensing of the muscles in his arm which she might have miss had she had not been so close. She didn�t need to tell him that there was the possibility that she might not love him, she could have let him have hope. She felt all the more guilty when the only concern Percy expressed was for her well being. Her stomach churned at the thought that she might had hurt him despite her intent to avoid doing so.

�Perhaps I might offer myself as your knight,� he offered, his voice so gentle and sincere. She would have been less surprised if he�d stopped the coach and made her walk back to Saint-Cyr - other men might have done as much. But then Percy was far from being like other men, which was why she found herself growing while fond of him despite his occasional slips. �You don�t think Armand up to the task of protect his sister?� she laughed trying to lightened the mood. Armand, despite his best intentions was a mere stripling, a young man with more experience in books than in fighting. Armand would stand little chance in a fight should he need to defend Marguerite. Though, lord love him, he would try.

She shifted slightly on the seat and once again she rested her head upon Percy�s shoulder, watching his adroit hands manipulate the ribbons. How strange it was that she felt so safe with Percy... his presence put her mind as rest. He had had opportunities to take advantage yet didn�t... Saint-Cyr�s garden, in her dressing room at the Comedie Francaise, in her home where on more then a few occasion the two had been only and Percy could have pushed his point. She trusted that he would not harm her just as she believed now that he would protect her from harm with his very life. How was it that another woman hadn�t snatched him up? �You make me feel most unworthy of you, darling. How is it that I am so fortunate not to find you attached to another?�

Marguerite lifted her head as the carriage came to a halt, they were before the stream she had seen in the distance. Sunlight played upon the broken surface of the water, illuminating the underside of the bridge with light - she wondered at the optical illusion that had given her the first impression that it was dark when she first seen it. She smiled up at him to show she approved of the spot - how could she not? It was quite lovely and charming - reminiscent of an earlier, simpler life.

Percy lept from the carriage and stretched out his arms to help her down, she rested her arms upon his shoulder - perhaps an inch or two more and they would have circled his neck - then bit her lower lip as Percy's hands wwere around her waist again (it would do for him to know how sensitive that area was to contact). As he set her on the ground she sense his reluctance to release her, but release her he did and only after did she released him.

"It's lovely here," she told him. "I confess I had no idea you would bring me to someplace like this. I confess I never know what to expect with I'm with you."