“I’ll visit,” Remi offered weakly.

Elise forced a smile. “I know you will—when you can.”

Grieving a spouse lasted a long time. It would be months before Remi could travel outside her home again, let alone wear anything other than black. Her stomach plummeted then, subdued by the thought of ever leaving to visit Elise. As fanciful a thought it was, she knew deep down that she would never be allowed to leave the Isle.

“Madame!” A voice called from the other side of the door.

Remi and Elise turned as it opened.

“Madame! Monsieur Lamotte has arrived.” Sylvie announced. She was red in the face, small hairs peeking out from under her cap. “He’s waiting in the parlor to greet you.”

“Thank you, Sylvie.” Remi stood from her stool beside the vanity and smoothed her skirt. “Would you let Monsieur Leone know that we’ll be having an early supper?”

Sylvie nodded. “He’s already with Monsieur Lamotte, Madame.”

Remi groaned internally. “Of course he is.”

“Why don’t Sylvie and I check on supper?” Elise offered casually. “You go on ahead.”

“Yes, alright then.” Remi rushed forward, forgetting how unladylike it was to run. “Thank you!”

The parlor doors opened the moment she arrived and both men, accompanied by Ben’s footman, stopped in surprise at her presence. She was at once skeptical of the company they shared prior to her arrival. Lamotte was flush, already a drink in hand, and a smile graced his lips. Remi tried not to glance at Ben but could feel his harsh gaze regardless. She pushed a stray hair away and swallowed her fear. Whatever was discussed, it could not have been more important than an exchange on the quality of the wine.

“Welcome, Monsieur Lamotte. Thank you so much for coming.” She bowed her head and shifted to take the space between the two men. The third man, Ben’s footman, seemed to slink away into the shadows. He was there, but she could not see him. “There’s more wine in the dining room if you’d care to join me there.”

“Of course, of course! So lovely to see you, Madame Leone.” Lamotte announced as he looped his arm through hers with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Right this way.” Remi guided their small troupe through the darkening foyer to the dining room. All the while, as they walked, she could feel the weight of Ben’s gaze, boring holes in the back of her skull.

GAMES

BEN

Ben followed Remi wordlessly to their meal. He had crept down earlier after his bath in hopes of finding a drink before supper. By the time he secured one, Lamotte arrived and took the drink for himself.

“Such good manners,” the lawyer had said too happily. “It’s as if you knew I was coming.”

Ben did not, in fact, know Lamotte was coming at all.

“I believe Martin has prepared his special Coq au Vin,” Remi said as she pushed open the doors to the dining room. “He says you once confided in him that it was your favorite. I hope it will be to your liking.”

“He is correct! I shall eat it with the vigor of ten men.” Lamotte took one of her hands in his ham-like fists and patted it with swollen fingers.

Ben watched her conceal a flinch with an easy smile. There was an undercurrent of caution about her that made him curious. Lamotte is somewhat of an unpleasant fellow. He tried not to notice how much more relaxed Remi was when Lamotte released her.

The dining room, bathed in flickering candlelight, was always a grand backdrop for any affair. It was a tribute to his mother’s eye for splendor, featuring an imported ebony table that seated twelve at a time with high-backed chairs of the same dark wood. Their cushions were a deep plum, meant to match the papered walls. Ben once told his mother, during its renovation, that it made him feel like he was sitting in her jewelry box. It was purposefully beautiful, the highlight of past dinner parties that he used to peek in on as a small boy.

Inside, one occupant already waited to be seated. Elise glanced at Ben and held his gaze for a second longer than she must have intended, though her expression remained steely.

Lamotte pulled out a seat for Remi, his chattering turning loud as it commanded everyone’s attention. “Goodness, when was the last time I enjoyed a meal under your roof, Madame?”

Remi frowned. “I’m unsure, Monsieur. When did you last visit?”

The lawyer took the head of the table, the spot where Ben’s father used to sit at meals. For all his pomp and frivolity, he was a bold man to assume the master’s seat with ease. Ben, on the other hand, seated himself snugly a few chairs down from Lamotte while Jacques found himself a corner tucked amongst the meager shadows.

“Why,” Lamotte exclaimed, “it was your wedding!”

Across from him, both Remi and her cousin appeared affected; the former seemingly embarrassed as she tried to regain her composure, while the latter found humor in the old man’s theatrics. Lamotte had announced it with intention, Ben was sure. All around the table, the wine glasses were filled, thanks to Jacques’s quick hand. He was too good at reading the room.

Remi took a measured sip from her glass.

“It was the finest reception I’d ever been to, Madame,” Lamotte continued. “Have I ever told you that?”

“On countless occasions.”

He cracked a smile at her bland response. “Ah, well! What’s one more time, eh?” Then he turned to Ben, his face red from excitement and drink. “Pardon my rudeness. I know you were absent from that particular celebration.”

I ought to whack him with the wine bottle, Ben thought as he sipped his wine. Spare us all his drama.

“She was a vision!” Lamotte exclaimed, distracting from the meal as it was served. “Absolutely breathtaking in her wedding gown. Your father was so happy! You should have seen how he beamed.”

Ben’s jaw twitched. He didn’t have to look at her to know that Remi was clearly uncomfortable with the exhibition. He would have enjoyed her wriggling if it wasn’t also at the expense of his own comfort.

“A perfectly happy day,” Elise interjected before Lamotte could carry on. “What a shame you missed it, Monsieur Leone.”

“A shame indeed,” Ben agreed, unsurprised by her audacity.

“I think it was to everyone’s disappointment that you did not attend.” Elise frowned. “Being that we were all such close companions as children.”

“All children must grow up.” Ben glowered at her.

“I couldn’t agree more!” Lamotte laughed. “Though, if you don’t mind my saying, Benoît would have been a much better drinking partner than your father, Mademoiselle Elise.”

“You must accept my apologies,” Ben managed. They were testing his patience, and there was no humor in it for him. “It surprised me to see my father remarrying at his age, especially as he was so much older than his bride.”

Remi visibly flinched at his mocking tone, flushing a fantastic red as she brought her glass of wine to her lips and took a generous swig. Based on their earlier exchange, Ben expected her to rally and put up a fight. But she didn’t. It appeared instead that she wanted to drop the subject of her marriage altogether.

“Tosh! What good reason does anyone have to marry?” Lamotte waved dismissively. “Your father lived alone, you know. Perhaps he wanted a companion.”

Ben glanced at Remi.

She would not meet his eye.

“Our Remi breathed new life into the manor, into your father.” Lamotte wagged a dogged finger at Ben. He had a fine sheen of sweat starting at his hairline, and his beady eyes could barely focus as he spoke. Still, the weight of what he said slammed into Ben. A seed of envy planted itself in his anger.

New life? Ben recalled her miserable countenance outside. She looked as pallid and pale as the faded wallpaper in the hallway. He thought back to the letter she’d sent him before the wedding. How much life could she have brought with her when the woman who wrote to me was so desperate to be saved?

“You must have been a great comfort to him, Madame.” Ben snickered, fingering the neck of his wine glass.