Victoire
The early morning sun bathed the park in a golden hue, casting long shadows over the cobbled paths and lush greenery. I had taken Gabriel and Élisabeth with me today, determined to escape the suffocating walls of our townhouse, even if only for a brief moment.
"Mademoiselle, are you certain I may climb that tree?" Gabriel's voice broke my reverie as he gazed up at a tall oak, its branches reaching toward the sky like eager arms.
I smiled, despite the burden pressing against my chest. "Go ahead, Gabriel. But be careful."
He didn't need further encouragement. With an excited squeal, he scrambled up the tree like a squirrel, his small hands gripping the rough bark.
Élisabeth, at five, wasn't as adventurous as her younger brother. She sat next to me, clutching a small doll in her hands, her little legs swinging back and forth. "Maman says we should be home before noon," she said, her voice soft and serious.
I sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. "Your Maman worries too much."
In that moment, I felt the weight of it all—the pressure, the expectation, the knowledge that time was slipping away, and yet I couldn't focus on that here. Here, I was simply Victoire, and not the daughter of a woman who could be as cold as a winter wind when it came to marriage arrangements. Not the girl who was expected to secure a future for not just herself, but her siblings.
As I gazed at Gabriel, who had made it halfway up the tree, I heard a soft, familiar voice from across the park.
"Victoire?"
I turned sharply.
Standing just a few feet away, dressed in an impeccable coat and trousers, was none other than the Marquis de Rochefort, Étienne.
His blue eyes locked onto mine, an unreadable expression on his face as he observed my surprise.
"I didn't expect to find you here," he said, his tone amused but also cautious.
I blinked, trying to gather my thoughts. What was he doing here? He didn't belong in such a humble park, surrounded by the noise of children and the rustling of leaves.
"I could ask you the same question, Monsieur," I said, crossing my arms, trying to shield myself from the sudden unease that crept into my chest.
Étienne looked down at the two children who accompanied him—a young girl with bright, golden curls and a boy no older than Gabriel, both of whom were watching me intently.
"Margot and Jean-Luc," he introduced them, offering a rare smile as Margot waved excitedly at me.
"Victoire, this is my sister Margot and my brother Jean-Luc. Margot is… very persistent when it comes to insisting on outings," he added, with a wry chuckle.
Margot giggled, clearly pleased with her brother's explanation. She was a child—about seven years old—her cheeks round and rosy, her wide eyes full of curiosity. Jean-Luc, by contrast, seemed more reserved, staring at me silently.
"Good day," I managed, though I wasn't sure if I should be feeling awkward or annoyed. There had been no prelude to this meeting, no hint that we might run into each other here of all places.
"You're Victoire, yes?" Margot asked suddenly, her voice bright and clear. "Are you the Victoire de Montreuil? The one who dances like a princess at the balls?"
I blinked, taken aback by her enthusiasm. "I am, mademoiselle."
Her eyes widened with awe, and she rushed to my side, her small hands tugging at the edge of my gown. "I want to dance like you one day. Can you teach me?"
I couldn't help but smile at her innocence. "Perhaps one day," I said softly, patting her head.
Étienne's gaze softened for a moment before he gave a small nod to his siblings. "I should have known better than to bring them to the park with no expectation of quiet," he murmured under his breath.
I couldn't suppress a laugh. It was a rare sound, unfamiliar even to my own ears.
But then, Gabriel's voice broke through the moment, his excitement filling the air. "Étienne! Look at me!"
I turned just in time to see my younger brother perched precariously on a lower branch of the oak, grinning down at Étienne and the others.
Étienne stepped closer, his gaze sharp as he looked at Gabriel. "Be careful, mon cher," he called out, his voice unexpectedly warm.
Gabriel's face lit up, clearly proud of himself. "I can do it! I'm not afraid!"
Étienne didn't respond immediately but instead moved closer, watching Gabriel carefully. It was a small gesture, but I found myself noticing it more than I cared to admit—how he moved with purpose, even in a moment of such triviality.
Finally, Étienne reached up and carefully steadied Gabriel by the waist, lifting him off the branch with a casual ease that made the boy squeal in delight.
"You see?" Étienne said with a smile, setting him down on the grass. "You don't need to climb trees to prove yourself."
Gabriel beamed, his chest puffed out with pride. "But I want to be strong like you, Monsieur," he declared loudly, looking up at Étienne with wide, admiring eyes.
Étienne's smile faltered for a moment, but it was quickly replaced with a rueful grin. "Strength is not always about climbing trees, mon ami."
I watched them both for a moment, feeling a stirring of something unfamiliar inside me—admiration, perhaps, or something more. For all his arrogance, Étienne de Rochefort wasn't just the charming nobleman I had first assumed him to be.
"Perhaps you should show me how to climb a tree next time," I teased, trying to break the tension that lingered between us.
Étienne raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my challenge. "I can't guarantee it will end as successfully as it did with your brother," he said dryly.
"I suppose I'll have to judge for myself."
We shared a brief, knowing glance—one that left me feeling more exposed than I had intended. But before I could dwell on it, Margot tugged at my sleeve, her innocent face beaming.
"I want to play with your brother!" she exclaimed. "He's fun!"
I glanced at Gabriel, who nodded enthusiastically, his hands already reaching for the ball he'd discarded earlier.
"I suppose I have no choice but to allow it," I said with a smile, stepping back as the two children began to play, their laughter filling the air.
Étienne and I stood side by side, an unspoken understanding settling between us. Neither of us was quite ready to acknowledge the complexity of the situation, but it was clear that something had shifted.
Étienne
The park was more peaceful than I had anticipated, though the company made it far more interesting than any of the previous outings I had endured. Victoire, though far more composed than I had expected, seemed as though she were torn between propriety and something deeper.
She spoke with warmth to Margot and Jean-Luc, her natural grace evident even in such casual moments. But there was an edge to her politeness, a certain restraint that made it difficult for me to get a real glimpse of the woman beneath the facade.
"You have a way with children," I remarked, watching as Victoire bent down to tie Gabriel's shoelaces with the utmost care.
She glanced at me, her brow furrowing slightly. "It is not difficult," she said softly. "They are simply children, after all. One does not need to make things complicated."
"Do you always make things so uncomplicated?" I asked, my voice quieter now.
She paused, her hands stilling in Gabriel's hair. "Not always," she replied with a wry smile, before standing up.
For a moment, our eyes met, and I felt something like a jolt run through me. A tension, thick and palpable, hanging between us.
Before I could say anything else, Margot tugged at my sleeve again. "Étienne, can we go home now?" she asked, her wide eyes pleading with me.
I smiled at her indulgently. "Of course, Margot. We shall go home."
But as I turned to leave, I stole one last glance at Victoire—her face soft and contemplative, a stark contrast to the poised, unyielding woman I had seen at the ball.
And in that moment, I realized just how much I wanted to know more.