The rest of the evening had gone by in a blur. Pierre escorted her home and to her room, managing to apologize for how their day had gone. They had dinner in her room together and then he was gone with the promise of returning the next evening so they could attend Monsieur Renaud’s soiree together. Philip hadn’t shown up to her room. And the only maid brave enough to enter did so only to see if she required anything else of her before departing for the evening.

When the sunlight began spilling into her room like a river cascading through a valley, Aria did not feel rested. But the day would move along without her, so she spent the morning reading the Etiquette book about soirees and how to best behave during them. By early afternoon she had finished her makeup. Before she could seek a maid out to assist with her gown, Pierre had arrived.

“Good afternoon, Ariadne,” Pierre said. He kissed her lips rather prudently before giving her space again.

“Good afternoon, Pierre. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company so early?”

“I’ve come to help you dress. And to discuss what I specifically would like for you to do tonight at the soiree.”

Aria blushed and looked away annoyed. She still wasn’t happy with him for their conversation the day before. “I’d prefer the maid help me.”

“Ariadne,” Pierre frowned; he rarely did that. “I apologized for what transpired yesterday. And I meant it. Are you so stubborn you cannot simply forgive someone?”

“It has nothing to do with stubbornness, Monsieur Andreu,” Aria folded her arms across her chest. “I simply find myself trying to understand why you would pay for me to escort you when you could easily take your maid.”

Pierre dared a step forward with an incredulous laugh. “Are you truly jealous of my maid, Ariadne? For heavens’ sake, I took her to my bed because I was lonely; I admit it. It’s been hard to move on after Giselle died. But, Ariadne,” he dared another step forward, “I enjoy your company more than I’d ever imagined I would; more than I’ve ever enjoyed another woman’s company since Giselle…”

Aria’s glare softened just slightly; just enough. “It hurt, Pierre,” she muttered. “You chose to believe her over me. And that hurt. The only way our arrangement will ever work is for you to be able to trust me, even when I am not in your presence. If you can’t trust me, we may as well part ways now.”

“I give you my word that I trust you.”

They stood together in silence until Aria finally nodded. “Thank you.”

Pierre hesitated. “May I please help you dress so we can speak?”

“Once I get my corset on, yes.”

There was no room for discussion in her voice or expression. Pierre stayed behind as Aria disappeared behind the partition, shedding her coat. She always took great care to hang her clothes back in the armoire. Grandmother Gigi went through such troubles to make them so beautiful. How could she treat them less than respectfully? She undressed to her chemise and drawers, slipping the corset over her head.

“What did you need to discuss about tonight?” Aria asked.

Pierre emerged behind her. He pulled the laces of her corset carefully tightening them. “I would like for you to slip into Henri’s study and see if you can’t find something useful. Perhaps correspondence about cutting ties with another shipper, or plans for expansion. Anything that you think a competitor would like to know.”

“That’s tight enough,” Aria gasped.

“I apologize.” Pierre loosened the laces just a little before continuing down the corset tugging them tight. “If you somehow manage to steal said correspondence or anything else that might prove useful, I’ll even throw in something extra.”

“I’ve never been one for stealing,” Aria said.

“Then you best be absolutely sure about anything you see. I can’t act on rumors.”

Aria paused as much to collect her thoughts as to decide whether the stays were too tight. “I’ll do my best.”

Aria’s figure curved in a way her natural body couldn’t possibly manage on its own. There were other layers much easier to dress in, such as the petticoat, until all the pieces were in place. The milk chocolate gown slipped over her head and she appeared through the top, smoothing the dress with her hands until it looked right. Pierre did a wonderful job helping the gown take the shape it was always meant to. And when she was finished, Pierre gave an approving nod.

“You look beautiful, Ariadne.”

“Thank you. And thank you for helping.”

Sitting at the vanity as comfortably as she could manage, Aria brushed her blond locks until they were smooth, pinning them up and away from her face. She looked as elegant as any socialite she’d seen.

“One last thing about tonight.” Pierre slid his hands to Aria’s lacing his fingers with hers. “I’m not saying it would come to this, but…if getting Henri’s secrets means letting him have his way with you then do it.”

Aria studied his face. “You can’t mean that. The whole point—”

“I know the point of our arrangement, Ariadne. But I want whatever secrets Henri Renaud has, and if it takes giving that up for them so be it. I want them at any cost. Do you understand?”

She hesitated. “Yes. I understand.”

Pierre kissed her lips. She hardly responded to it. “Are you upset with me again?”

“Think of what you’re asking me to do and how you’re asking me, potentially, to do it.” Aria moved past her companion to the door, opening it. “It would be awful to be late. We should go.”

Pierre followed at a more sedate pace.