- Life had a way of
wrecking her careful plans, again and again. Roulette was more predictable
than life. Small wonder she was so lucky at it.
Life was not a
wheel going round and round. It never, ever returned to the same place. It
didn't stick to simple red and black and a certain array of numbers. It
laughed at logic.
Beneath its pretty overdress of man-imposed
order, life was anarchy.
- She swallowed it. So
bitter.
"Vile," she said.
"Vile."
"I know, but it helps. Trust me. I
know."
"Trust you," she said.
"Hah."
"Clearly you are not dying."
"No.
Devil won't take me."
The low chuckle again. "Then we're
all safe."
- "No its you," she said. How far away
her voice sounded, as though it had traveled to London already, ahead of her.
"Your ducal self assurance. Everything will give way to you. Even
Satan's own storm."
"You are definitely improving,"
he said. "Full mocking sentences."
- "Get off," she said. "Get off
now."
Before its too late, and I decide to celebrate a narrow
escape from death in the traditional manner of our species.
- Then he recalled whose daughter she was,
and wondered why he wondered.
Then he recalled who it was who had a
child.
A child, Noirot had a child!
- She'd read in novels of people who
couldn't speak because their hearts were too full and she'd always thought,
Not my black heart.
But now she couldn't
speak, because it was too much, whatever it was.
- "I have a plan," he
said.
"Yes," she said.
"Let's get
married," he said.
"Yes," she
said.
"Let's conquer the world," he
said.
"Yes," she said. No one in her family had ever been
accused of dreaming small.
"Let's bring the beau monde to its
knees."
"Yes."
"Let's make them beg
for your creations."
"Yes," she said. "Yes,
yes, yes."
"Is tomorrow too soon?" he
said.
"No." she said. "We've a great deal to do, you
and I, conquering the world. We must start at once. We've not a minute to
lose."
"I love hearing you say that," he
said.
He kissed her. It lasted a long time.
And they
would last, she was sure, a lifetime. On that she'd wager anything.
- "I'm no good at being good."
- "I'm in a mood to knock someone down, and
you'll do very well."
"Don't tell me," Longmore
said. "The dressmaker doesn't want you, either. By gad, this isn't your
day, is it? Not your week, rather."
- Hell, what was one more scandal?
- ...it was hard to hide one's emotion from
one's own kind.
- "Oh, it's ridiculous. I ought to laugh.
But I can't. You won't believe it."
"Of course we
will," Sophye said.
"He offered you a carte
blanche," Leonie said.
"No, he asked me to marry
him."
There was a short stunned silence.
Then,
"I reckon he's in a marrying mood," Sophy said.
- "I expected a good deal more from
you," Marcelline said, "You bungled
it."
"Yes," he said. "What else could I do? I
was asking the wrong woman to marry me."
- "I deserve passion," she said.
"I deserve to be loved- in every way. I deserve a man who'll give his
whole heart, not the part he isn't using at the moment.."
- He'd forget all that, just as he would
forget this night.
The memories would linger for a time, but they'd
grow dull. The ache he felt now, the frustation and anger and sorrow - all
those would fade too.
She'd given him a night to remember, but of
course he'd forget.