The Ouroboros Cycle, Book One. G.D. Falksen
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just as she remembered him, clothed in black and scarlet and smiling at a joke only he understood. He met her eyes from across the room and slowly bowed his head. Babette felt the corner of her mouth curl up into a smirk and she nodded slightly.
The cunning devil. He had come there unannounced to surprise her! She was certain of it! But how had he known? Someone must have told him.…
She closed her eyes as her mind began to whirl out of control. That was nonsense, of course. No one in Society would miss the chance to be entertained by Madame de Saint-Étienne. Her soirees were almost as official as the presentation to the Empress Eugénie. The social season was not complete without them, informal as they were. Of course Korbinian had guessed she would be there.
Babette took a sip of her wine to settle her nerves. The sight of Korbinian in all his foreign elegance was enough to make her head spin. It would not do to make a fool of herself in front of him. Or in front of the rest of Parisian society…she supposed.
She traded looks with Korbinian across the room for a few minutes, the two of them smiling at their secret communication, of which—she was certain—the rest of the company was wholly ignorant.
She was interrupted as the opulence of Madame de Saint-Étienne appeared from the crowd, dressed in a glittering gown of magnificent proportions, and rushed forward to envelope her with hospitality.
“My dear Mademoiselle Varanus,” said Madame de Saint-Étienne, taking Babette’s hands for a moment and giving her a warm smile. “How are you?”
“Well, Madame,” Babette said.
“I am most pleased that you are here,” Madame de Saint-Étienne continued, saying the same thing that she had said to every other guest over the course of the evening. Still, it was a pleasant thing to hear. At least Madame de Saint-Étienne had a spirit to her. There was more substance to her than her baubles and frills, at least if Grandfather was to be believed.
“Your father has been looking for you,” she added, her eyes twinkling. “Playing the dutiful chaperone of course, as he always does.”
“Yes, I fear we were separated by the crowd,” Babette said. “I simply couldn’t find him again, so I thought to wait here until he found me.”
“Of course you did,” Madame de Saint-Étienne said, smiling.
Babette smiled back politely and flicked her eyes in Korbinian’s direction, wondering how to engineer a meeting with him among the throng. Their dance at Grandfather’s ball had been daring enough. If she approached him here, there would be no end of unwanted gossip. That would make Father fuss more, and that would be insufferable.
But Korbinian was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished as suddenly as he had appeared. Babette felt a twinge of irritation. How dare he disappear before she had deduced a terribly clever way of speaking to him!
She looked back at Madame de Saint-Étienne and nearly cried out in surprise. Korbinian stood a few paces away, carefully maneuvering himself in the direction of Madame de Saint-Étienne’s elbow.
The clever scoundrel! Clearly he meant to draw the lady’s attention and inspire her to introduce them.
As expected, Madame de Saint-Étienne chanced a look in Korbinian’s direction and gave a cry of delight.
“My dear Baron von Fuschburg!” she exclaimed. “So delightful that you could attend. How is your father?”
“Dead,” Korbinian replied.
“Oh, what a dreadful thing,” Madame de Saint-Étienne said. “Your mother?”
“In Asia.”
“Oh, the poor dear! Grief does such peculiar things to a person. And yourself?”
“I am neither dead nor in Asia,” Korbinian said.
Babette hid a titter of laughter behind her hand.
Without pause, Madame de Saint-Étienne turned to her. “My dear, have you met the Baron von Fuchsburg?”
“No, I—” Babette began.
“Yes,” Korbinian said quickly, “at Monsieur William Varanus’s ball a fortnight ago.” He turned to Babette and added, “You recall, Mademoiselle, your grandfather introduced us.”
Clever scoundrel indeed.…
“Yes, of course,” Babette said demurely. “What a pleasure, Baron. Have you been in Paris long?”
“Only the week,” Korbinian said.
“How odd. I am certain I did not see you at any of the social events until now.”
“No,” Korbinian said, “I fear that I was otherwise engaged until tonight. But I am pleased to have completed my business. I am now entirely at your service…Madame de Saint-Étienne,” he added slyly, turning toward the lady to give the impression that it was she he intended to charm.
Madame de Saint-Étienne smiled at him, then at Babette, and said, “Mademoiselle Varanus, I think I shall go and find your father. He is surely wondering where you are. I am certain you and the Baron can look after one another for a few moments.”
“Of course, Madame,” Babette said. “Merci.”
“Madame, a pleasure,” Korbinian said, bowing.
Madame de Saint-Étienne looked at them carefully for a moment, as if to say “behave”. Then she spun about and set off through the crowd, cooing in delight at each guest she encountered. It would take her at least a few minutes to find Father, Babette noted.
Good.
“What brings you to Paris, Baron?” Babette asked coyly.
“Why does anyone come to Paris?” Korbinian asked.
“For the culture?”
“To find a wife,” Korbinian said.
“A noble aspiration,” Babette said. “Every young man should find a wife. It provides a certain stability in his life.”
“And do you have a great deal of experience in that regard?” Korbinian asked.
“None at all. My mind is unclouded by the frivolities of such an experience.”
They shared a quiet smile at this.
“Really, why did you come?” Babette asked softly.
“To see you, of course,” Korbinian said. “Why did you need to ask such a thing?”
“You ought not to speak that way,” Babette said, though she was rather pleased that he did.
“Why would you believe me to be a man who does what he ought to do?” Korbinian asked, laughing softly.
“Less belief, Baron, than hope,” Babette said. “One hopes that a man such as yourself does what he ought to do.”
“Such as?” Korbinian asked.
“To marry, for example,” Babette said. “You have come to Paris to find a wife. A man such as you ought to find one.”
“Perhaps I already have,” Korbinian said.
“That would be presumptuous of you,” Babette said. “Why, you have been in Paris for less than two weeks. That is insufficient time to find a wife. A proper one at least.”
“What makes a proper wife?” Korbinian asked, his eyes twinkling.
Babette thought for a short while and replied, “The ability to stand upright and to communicate by means of language.”
“What a curious outlook you have,” Korbinian said. “That would seem to be the most fundamental criteria for a human being.”
“Clearly you have not been in Society long, nor have you any familiarity with politics.”
Babette