This could only be one person.

One boring, docile, wretchedly inconvenient pipe dream.

Coco followed my gaze, wrinkling her nose in distaste when she too spotted Reid and the raven-haired beauty. “Please tell me that’s not who I think it is.”

“I’ll come find you later.” My eyes never left Reid’s face. Coco knew better than to follow this time.

I’d just descended into the ballroom when another man stepped in my path. Though I’d never encountered him this close, I recognized his tawny complexion and hooded eyes at once. Black hair styled to perfection, he wore more diamonds on his crown than were in Tremblay’s entire vault.

Beauregard Lyon.

Damn it. I didn’t have time for this shit. Even now, that stupid cow was probably sinking her claws deeper into my husband—reminding him of her beautiful lips, and smile, and eyes, and laugh—

“That is quite the dress.” His gaze swept up my body lazily, and he smirked, arching a brow.

“Your Highness.” I dropped into a curtsy, clamping down on a slew of more appropriate honorifics. He eyed my breasts appreciatively as I leaned down, and I straightened at once. Bloody pervert.

“Your name.” It wasn’t a question.

“Madame Diggory, Your Highness.”

His grin widened in delight. “Madame Diggory? As in—Madame Reid Diggory?”

“The very same.”

He actually threw his head back and laughed. The aristocrats nearest us paused, eyeing me with renewed interest. “Oh, I’ve heard all about you.” His golden eyes sparkled with glee. “Tell me, how exactly did you trick our dear captain into marrying you? I’ve heard the rumors, of course, but everyone has their own theories.”

I would’ve gladly broken a finger to break one of his other appendages.

“No tricks, Your Highness,” I said sweetly. “We’re in love.”

His grin faded, and his lip curled slightly. “How wretched.”

At that moment, the crowd shifted, revealing Reid and his many admirers. The raven-haired woman reached up to brush something from Reid’s hair. My blood boiled.

The prince’s brows rose as he followed my gaze. “Love, huh?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Should we make him jealous?”

“No, thank you,” I snapped. “Your Highness.”

“Call me Beau.” His grin turned wicked as he stepped aside. I stormed past him, but he caught my hand and brushed a kiss against my palm at the last second. I resisted the urge to snap his fingers. “Come find me if you change your mind. We would have fun together, you and I.”

With one last, lingering look, he sauntered off, winking at one of the women who hovered nearby. I scowled after him for a moment before turning back to Reid.

But he and Célie were gone.

A Dangerous Game

Lou

It didn’t take long for me to spot them, as Reid towered over everyone in the crowd. Connasse that she was, Célie still clutched his arm as they headed toward a door partially hidden by two evergreens.

I trailed after them. To my annoyance, and perhaps trepidation, they remained completely absorbed in each other, walking through the door without a backward glance. I made to slip through after them, but a hand caught my arm.

I whirled around to face the Archbishop.

“I wouldn’t.” He dropped my arm as if worried he’d catch something. “Envy is a mortal sin, child.”

“So is adultery.”

He ignored me, his gaze falling on the door. His face was paler than usual, drawn, and he looked like he’d lost weight since I last saw him. “We stole a future from him, you and I. Célie is everything a woman should be. Reid would have been happy.” He looked back at me, and his mouth tightened. “Now he pays for both our sins.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t blame you for your hedonistic upbringing, Louise, but you are a heathen.” His eyes shone fervid with conviction. “Perhaps if someone had been there—if someone had intervened—all of this could have been avoided.”

I stood motionless, rooted to the spot like the evergreens beside us, as he began to pace. “Now it’s too late. Let Reid enjoy this small pleasure away from your corruption.”

My bewilderment hardened into something glittering and cold at the words. As if I were the one who had done the corrupting. As if I were the one who should be ashamed.

I lifted my chin, stepping forward until I was offensively close to his pale face. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you need to look in the mirror. There’s a special circle in Hell for liars and hypocrites, Your Eminence. Perhaps I’ll see you there.”

He gaped at me, but when I turned on my heel, he made no move to follow. The savage satisfaction coursing through me quickly dissipated as I entered what could only be a kitchen.

It was empty.

An icy breeze soon bit at my skin, however, and I realized the opposite door had been left ajar. The wind whistled through the narrow crack. I inched it open farther to see Reid and Célie standing in a dead herbal garden. Snow coated the brown bits of sage and rosemary.

I leaned forward, barely able to discern their voices over the wind.

“I’m sorry, Célie.” Reid cradled the woman’s hands in his own. She held her shoulders stiff—angry.

You shouldn’t be here, the small, disapproving voice at the back of my head warned. This is wrong. Private. You’re breaking trust.

He’s the one breaking trust.

“There has to be something we can do,” Célie said bitterly. “It isn’t right. The Archbishop knows you’re innocent. We could go to him—ask him for an annulment. He loves you as if you’re his own son. Surely he wouldn’t keep you trapped in a loveless marriage.”

My stomach dropped to somewhere below my ankles.

Reid stroked her fingers with his thumb. “The Archbishop is the one who suggested it.”

“The king, then. My father is the vicomte. I’m sure I could arrange a meeting—”

“Célie,” he said softly.

She sniffled, and I knew instinctively it wasn’t because of the cold. “I hate her.”

“Célie, you . . . you didn’t want me.”