Bal Masque by Fleeta Cunningham

their dance steps in a meandering circle till they stood next to the open doors.
    She led him to a shadowed corner, darker than the one she had occupied with Armand earlier. “I’ve done it, Philippe. I’ve convinced Pierrette to take my place at the bal masque . She’ll be married to Armand, and I’ll be free. You and I can slip away as soon as Pierrette goes to join Papa for the ceremony. I can get down the back stairs. If I see anyone, I’ll just go through Papa’s office and meet you there. Père Jean-Baptiste drones on over every word and takes forever just to say grace, so the ceremony will take ages. Then the party won’t unmask until midnight. We’ll be well away from here before anyone discovers the bride is Pierrette.”
    Philippe lounged casually against the veranda railing. “You’ve made a wealth of plans, mam’selle. What about Marie, that gargoyle of a chaperone of yours? Won’t she become suspicious of the substitute bride? She knows you very well.” His lazy tone sounded amused and indulgent.
    “Bah, Marie will be kept so busy she won’t have a second to look too closely. She’ll see a girl in an elaborate costume, a masked girl with dark hair barely visible in the candlelight. It’s what she expects to see. Why would she think otherwise?”
    Philippe laughed softly in the dark. “The best-laid plans , chèrie, can destruct in the wink of an eye. An unexpected turn of fate, an unforeseen interruption, anything at all can upset your arrangements.”
    “Nothing will, not when Pierrette is so taken with Armand. I’ve got her fairly well convinced that he would prefer to marry her. My cousin is a scared rabbit, but I’ll keep her in hand.”
    Philippe chuckled as if she were jesting. “It’s the soft, scared ones who often make the most trouble. Just when you need to depend on them, they give way at the last minute, and leave you grasping at thin air. Your cousin may well lose her nerve in the end. Her infatuation with Dupre might not be enough to keep her going.”
    “I can manage Pierrette. I’ve been leading her along all her life. She never has an ounce of spirit unless I push her.”
    “Perhaps, but mind what I say. The very one you think is most committed may well let you down.” He made a move as if to lead her back to the dancing.
    “A moment, Philippe.” Lucienne stopped him. “This affair with Bowie and the Blanchards. Is it over?”
    Philippe stepped back. “How did you hear of such gossip, mam’selle? Not from your papa, I’m sure.”
    “I heard of it from Grandmère. She makes it a point to learn of everything that goes on around her. She told Pierrette and me about the feud and the duel.”
    Philippe looked stern and implacable behind his folded arms. “Your grandmère should guard her tongue.”
    Lucienne paid no attention to his words. “Philippe, you mustn’t challenge this Blanchard. I know your cousin was wounded and the family holds Blanchard responsible for the quarrel, but it’s their feud with the Blanchards and nothing to do with you. I’m sure you had no part in the trouble at the horse race. Apologize if you think you must, but stay out of the affair. You could be killed. Please, promise me you won’t confront the man or become part of the argument.”
    “Mam’selle, there are affairs you do not understand. A man must defend his honor, or that of his family, against any stain. This isn’t your business, and we won’t speak of it again. It isn’t suitable conversation for your ears.”
    Lucienne stamped her foot in fury. “If it concerns the life and death of the man I plan to marry, it very well is my business.”
    He reached out to take her hand. “Lucienne, such distress shows your kind heart. But there are things in the lives of men that are beyond you. A man’s honor is sacred. If he is insulted, then he must respond. Don’t trouble yourself with things you don’t understand. Let a man deal with them. Your sweet concern is treasure