Page 111 of Love Beneath the Guillotine
Léon started forward, like a moth drawn to a flame, but Catherine stepped in front of him. “Having a nice night?”
Trying to hide any sign of disappointment, he said, “Yes. Yes, a lovely night. The best one I’ve had in… ever.”
But Catherine hadn’t come to make small talk.She led with, “I like you Léon. I think it was really nice that you didn’t chop off my head. And Henry… Look at him. He’s glowing. Like an idiot.”
This last sentence she might have retracted, Léon thought, but the rest… Henrywasglowing. Positively. He was like a magnet, not only to Léon’s eyes, but to everyone’s. Léon had thought he might feel some jealousy about that, but he didn’t. Henry had made him so welcome, so comfortable. He could see it all playing out now—the two of them, side by side, seeing the revolution through. Changing the world. Really being together. Forever.
Catherine watched Léon as intently as Léon watched Henry, but without the sheen of hopeless romance. “Henry is very protective of me, you know. He doesn’t give his heart away easily. He never has. And I don’t know what’s happened between you two, but this has evolved very quickly.” The good humoured sparkle in Léon turned cool, though Catherine’s face was only frank, non-accusatory, if worried. “We’ve been alone for a long time. Just the two of us. And now he has told you who we are, what we do, and he has brought you into our home, all in the space of a few weeks. I think I would be an idiot to not be a little frightened by that.”
Léon had been so caught up in Henry that the words came as a shock. But not an unneeded one. Of course she would have felt that way. He tried to reassure her, “I’m not going to reveal your secrets to anyone. You can trust me.”
“I knowIcan trust you after what you did for me. But can Henry?”
His eyes flicked back to his beloved, then to Catherine, confused. “What do you mean? Of course, Henri can trust me.”
“I see the way you look at him. And he soaks it up like a sponge. You make him happy. But then I look at her…” Her gaze moved to Souveraine, deep in conversation with Mary across the room. “And she is not so happy. I think you must know, there are two people in love with you.”
The crushing truth of it stripped all the glamour from the night. But Catherine spoke on. “If you’re going to marry her, and she really thinks you will, then you’d better stop looking at Henry like that. Because he seems to believe you’re going to stay with us.”
Léon kept his gaze where Catherine had drawn it. Émile had fallen asleep, his head laying on Souveraine’s shoulder, her arm around him protectively. And Léon loved her. Truly. His heart ached over the words Catherine continued to speak.
“If you’re not going to choose her, then you have to let her go. She’s not a comfort blanket for you. She’s not some hired help to look after your brother while you’re away with Henry. She does it all for you because she loves you. And it’s cruel. It’s cruel for her, but not just for her.” The steely glint in her eyes softened to a peculiar melancholy, almost entreating. “She won’t look at anybody else. She loves you and she’s loyal to you. And you’re taking away her opportunity of finding someone who really cares about her.”
“I don’t want to hurt her,” said Léon, not taking her meaning in full. “I care about her more than you know. I won’t just send her back to Reims by herself.”
“Maybe you have to. Or maybe she will choose to stay in Paris. But you need to give her that choice.” She squeezed his arm, looking deep into his eyes. “If you love her enough to marry her, tell Henry at once. There’s no shame in it if your loyalty lies with her. But don’t string him along and don’t jeopardise us. This party, these letters he sends out… It’s all for you. He should be hiding, and he’s putting on a show to impress you instead. So if you care about him?—”
Ruffled to anger by the unspoken suggestion, Léon snapped, “I do care about him.”
“Then make your decision and do it quickly.” She gave him one parting spear of a glance. “You cannot have them both.”
48
BOYFRIEND ENCHANTED
Léon was quiet on the way home. They all were. Émile was asleep in his brother’s arms. Souveraine seemed distracted, looking out the window, unusually distant. Catherine wasn’t inclined to bother her, and only responded to Henry’s comments rather than direct any chat. Meanwhile, poor Henry was bursting with excitement, unable to contain the news he’d just been hired to write an article forParis Revolutions, a leading newspaper in the city. He tried to keep quiet for Émile’s sake, desperate to get Léon alone so they could talk freely about how their very first night in Paris had put the realisation of all his ambitions directly at his fingertips.
Unfortunately for him, getting Léon alone was easier imagined than done.
Léon took Souveraine’s quiet pensiveness as unhappiness rightly directed at him, and once he’d deposited Émile in his bed, he seemed to hang on her every move rather than simply go upstairs, undress, and climb into Henry’s sheets.
There was the offer of a drink from Catherine, which Souveraine passed on, which Henry refused, and which Léon agreed to in the hopes of being up a little later with Souveraine.
“Maybe I’ll change,” Henry said pointedly.
“Okay,” said Léon, on a brief smile.
“Would you like to change?” Henry asked him.
“I’ll be okay,” said Léon. “For now.”
“Well, then…” Henry hesitated, but got the distinct impression Léon was willing him to leave, which made him none too happy, the annoyingly beautiful barmaid sitting there all pale and glum and dull and still annoyingly beautiful.
But Catherine swiped her drink up and said she would walk upstairs with Henry to have a talk.
This left Léon alone with Souveraine.
She said nothing, only sent him a strange look that held in it all the distance she’d ever had from him. Since they were children, she had never once looked at him quite like that, that he could remember.
