BACK IN A FLASH IV- The Engagement Announcement

Marguerite had told him that she had something important to tell him. Hoping it was something good, Armand was practically running home as fast as his seventeen year old legs would take him, all the while struggling not to drop his school books. Armand was a good student. Not the best, but his marks were good. Better than most of his friends. He was a bright young man who liked to learn to do new things. But he wanted to do something exciting with his life. That was why he supported the Republic. It was exciting to talk about a better life. While he wasn't too keen on the antics of the guillotine, Armand figured that those who were ordering the people killed knew what they were doing.

His key opened the door to the flat faster than ever. He tossed his books onto the floor and called out, "Margot! I'm home!!!"

Marguerite was nervously pacing back and forth all over the apartment. Her palms were moist, her fingers shaking, and entire body trembling all over with excitement and nervousness. She was waiting for her younger brother to come home to tell him the news. When the front door to the flat flew open and Armand announced loudly he was home and Marguerite jumped in near fright. Once regaining control of herself Marguerite rushed to the front door where Armand was creating his usual mess by dropping his schoolbooks on the floor. "I'm glad you are home now Armand," Marguerite said ushering him in the door and into the sitting room, "how was your day?" she started trying to calm down before breaking the news.

Why did she seem nervous? Her voice was a little shrill as she asked him how he was. 'That's odd... She didn't even get mad at me for dropping my books!' He thought, surprised.

"My day was fine. I couldn't wait to get home and see you. It's been so long.... I trust you are well now?" He didn't wait for an answer, just plunged ahead, rattling on. "Jean-Luc and Mercedes were glad to have me. Jean-Luc, Marc and I went to the rally on rue de Bac. It was a little scary... they were shooting guns and things, but it was exciting! You should have seen it, Marguerite!" He glanced at his sister. Her whole feeling seemed exhausted.

"ARMAND!" Marguerite snapped, "I don't ever want to hear that you've been at such a rally again. I hope as soon as things started getting bad you left, I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you anymore. No more of such rallies, do you understand me?"

Casually, Armand leaned against the wall, his hands behind his back. "So what was it you had to tell me, Margot?" Then Armand grinned. "It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with why you were so late getting back from performances a few weeks ago?" He added teasingly. "And you thought I didn't notice."

He chuckled, but the boy had no inkling at the impact her words would have on his short life.

Marguerite swallowed. It was one the happiest moments of her life, yet she had the feeling telling Armand would be one of the most difficult. She patted the spot on the couch next to her, "Yes, Armand, please come here and sit down with me while we talk."

Armand sat next to her, confused. "Marguerite...? What's going on?"

Marguerite reached over and held onto her brother's hands, "Armand, last evening I received a proposal for marriage." She gently squeezed his hand waiting for his first reaction.

Armand's jaw dropped. He hadn't expected this, and was pleasantly surprised... and confused. Why was she so reluctant to tell him? "Well, that's wonderful, Marguerite!" He exclaimed. He hugged her and dropped a kiss on her cheek. "Who is your groom-to-be? I need to wish him bon chance* as soon as possible... he will need it, knowing you!" He paused. "Why were you afraid to tell me THAT?"

Marguerite felt relieved as her brother hugged her, but only for a second. "Oh Armand, the two of us have just been together and on our own for so long I did not know how well you would accept someone else joining our little family."

"Well, Marguerite, it's been just us for a long time... it will be good to have another in our family, my tiny mother."

Marguerite smiled at her little brother with loving eyes as the other part of her confession came out, "You've not yet met him, he is Sir Percival Blakeney, Baronet.

Cold dread filled him. And anger. He stood up, furious, and backed away from his sister.

Marguerite could see the change in his eyes an almost for sure knew what was coming next.

"'SIR'? 'BARONET'? He's... one... one of THEM? An ARISTO?" He felt his face reddening. "How COULD you??? Why, Marguerite? I thought you were a Republican! It'd be better for you to marry ROBESPIERRE!!!!" Naturally, Armand didn't mean this, as the Republic's leader was a tyrant... but it was just to get his point across.

With that, Armand ran from the room to his, slammed the door, and locked it securely. He regretted leaving his books on the entrance way floor.

Marguerite's gasped slightly at the outburst. She did not expect him to take the news well, but this was worse then she expected, although she wasn't about to stand for it. She paused a moment to collect her thoughts before exiting the from front room to his door. She tried to open it, but Armand had locked it. In anger she pounded on the door with her fist and snapped, "Armand, you open this door right now, do you hear me? I will not have you speak to me like that, open this door right now."

“Open the door? HA! I think not! So why are you marrying him, Marguerite? Money? That's all they have, aristos... no brains, no heart... mindless people who only care about their like! He must have been handsome, though, for you to go after his money..."

The cruel words filled his mouth without him thinking, but so furious was he that he didn't care.

Marguerite's heart sank. She did not think Armand was capable of such cruel words, especially to her. "Now that's not fair Armand and you know it. I have no interest in acquiring money other then by my own moral means. And you have no right to say such awful things about Percy. You don't even know him, how dare you say such things." She went as and pounded the door again with her fists.

"And it wouldn't have been nearly as bad if it was a Frenchman, but you went after the ENGLISH!" He spat the word out like a curse, lying on his bed and smoldering.

"Armand how can you even think such things. Why can't you just be happy for me, why can't you give him a chance?" Marguerite said as she dropped to the floor. She had the feeling this would be harder then she thought.

"Oh that's a good idea!" He jumped to his feet and yanked the door open. He stared at his sister.

Marguerite bounced back as the door flew open. Armand's unusually cold stare frightened her and made her take a step back.

"Fine. I'll give him a chance. I'll meet him. Once. If I don't like him, then you can chose between him or me." Armand shrugged nonchalantly. "The choice is yours. Chose him, and I'm staying here in Paris. You can visit me sometimes. Chose me, and he's gone. Permanently. Ça va, trés bien?"*

Marguerite was now enraged by the way Armand spoke to her. "How dare you give me such an ultimatum Armand, expecting me to choose between you and Percy." She fumed, "And just what would you do if you did not like him but I decided to get married? How would you live? You have no money, no job. How do you expect to eat, where are you going to live? Surely you don't expect to force me out of your life and hang on to my purse at the same time?"

Armand laughed. "Keep the damn purse. I'll live. They need guards in the prisons. That pays enough. And I have FRIENDS who would be glad to let me stay with them until I got my own place. I have ways, Marguerite." He paused, narrowed his eyes at his sister. "I told you, I will meet this... Percy. Then we'll see if you'll be visiting ME in Paris." He turned, then added, "I wonder what you two were doing those late nights when you never came home... surely, a proper Englishman wouldn't have thought of THAT!" He locked the door before she could kill him.

She was shocked that he would even say such a thing to her. She had had previous lovers, which were not so restrained affectionately as Percy was, and no doubt Armand know of her activities with such men, but Percy had never dared. Even taking her soft kisses he still occasionally seemed timid and embarrassed. "What I choose to do in the private company of others is none of your business unless I deem it so. What Percy and I did during our time together is between Percy and I and none of your concern. Do you understand me, and I do not want to hear you speak to him in such a manner, now you open this door!"

"Maybe I will or maybe I won't... If I deem it so, the door will open," He mocked through the door. "And as to how I speak to him, why, I'll be the perfect little Frenchman, Marguerite... You wouldn't expect any less! Now, when is your little fiancée coming to meet me?"

Marguerite was not in the mood to continue this conversation in this manner. "Armand you open this door right now, I refuse to continue this conversation thought this door.

"Fine, fine..." He opened it, strode past her, picked up his books and went back to his room, leaving the door open.

"Well? Are we or are we not going to continue the conversation?"

Marguerite watched as he defiantly walked past her to gather his things and then returned to his room.

He still had not calmed down, and Marguerite certainly didn't look happy with him.

He was still fuming and she was in no mood to continue but she had too. "There's no evening performance tomorrow. After the afternoon show, You will meet Percy and I at the theatre and we will have a civil dinner together. You will dress yourself appropriately and you will behave like a young gentleman. I expect you to hold civilized conversation with Percy, which includes not only the topic of discussion, but also in every other aspect including proper language and wording. Percy does not speak French and I expect you to refrain from using the language in his presence. I can assure you that anything you say in French I will translate for him. Do you understand?" Marguerite nearly snapped at him.

He sat up. Translate would she. Well, maybe he'd give her something to translate.

"Deal." He said. "Now I simply must brush up on my English manners," He said in English. "We don't want Percy to think I'm uncivilized, do we? Good heavens, no, we don't want that..." He was mocking the man that he'd never met, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Armand why is this so hard for you to accept. I'm not marrying Percy for his money or his title and you know I wouldn't marry anyone for such reasons."

"Why is it so hard?! I'll tell you why it's so hard! It's because I..." He stopped, his mouth still open. "It's... it's... well, I don’t know why! All right? I just don't know! It just IS!" He halfheartedly glared at his sister. "I..." The anger was fading rapidly as he realized he had no reason to be angry. No right. And then he realized all the awful things he had said. Guilt crept into his stomach and he felt sick.

"I'm sorry..." He mumbled, flopping backward onto his bed. "I had no right to... say... what I did..." He sat up again. "I know you wouldn't marry a man for his money, Marguerite. And I know you're a proper Frenchwoman, good and decent. I AM happy for you, but... just be careful, Margot. I don't want to lose you."

Marguerite gave Armand as sad smile as she sat down on the bed next to him. She gave him a gentle hug. "Oh Armand, how could you ever think that I would leave you. Just because I love Percy and am getting married doesn't mean I'll stop being you sister or even your tiny mother," Marguerite giggled and kissed Armand on the cheek. "I know this may be hard for you to get used to but just give Percy a chance. He's a very good man Armand, very kind and generous, and I'm sure you'll like him."

He raised an eyebrow. "We'll see. If I don't like him you can't expect me to spend time with him, you know. I'm not going to follow him around like a little cocker spaniel or anything. He's your husband and, whether I like it or not, my brother-in-law. That's it. Nothing else."

As she stroked and fixed his hair, Marguerite gave a frustrated sigh. She thought she was making at least a little bit of progress with Armand, but apparently not. At least he had stopped yelling. "I don't expect you too attach yourself like some animal to him Armand. I just hope you will get along with him. Promise me you'll try."

Try. Promise you'll try. This was going to be harder than anything he'd ever done. "I promise." He had no idea of course, how easy a promise it really was going to be to keep.

"Good. Tomorrow night you can meet us at the stage door of the theatre. Be there at 5 o'clock sharp. Percy making arrangements for the three of us to go out to supper together." Marguerite said, still trying to calm her brother.

He just nodded...

The next day, at four o'clock, Armand dressed in his nicest clothes. He didn't know where this Percy was going to take them. He hoped not to some fancy restaurant... his clothes weren't THAT nice. He has on a plain white shirt, top button unbuttoned, black breeches and a forest green wool coat. Plain. But nice. He tied his hair back with a black piece of cord. He was sure that the Baronet was going to be decked out in lace, silk, and velvets. Armand made his way to the Comedie Français, a little fluttering feeling in his stomach. He didn't know if he could do this. Outside the stage door, he waited for his sister and Percy. He didn't see anyone yet.

The clippity-clop of the two horses driving the carriage filled Armand's ears as the Englishman approached. Maeve had sent word ahead via carrier that the brother of she was not at all happy with the recent news. Blakeney did not really mind that fact. He was without family for so long and having people not get close to him, what did it matter if another cared nothing for him? Still, for the sake of Marguerite, he would do what he could.

Knowing the situation in France and how Aristos were looked upon, Blakeney chose his most non-frilled outfit. It still was rather elegant and screamed of English gentleman, but it was the least outlandish outfit he had brought with him. It was his brown riding outfit. Brown britches. Long off white sockleggers. Off white shirt and toned down lace cravat. The coat had tails and was a dark tan that matched his leather boots perfectly. Blakeney forewent any sort of hat, but could not peel himself away from his beloved cane. Tonight he decided to not wear gloves. He could live without gloves.

Knowing her brother was of the Republic party, Blakeney really did not think much of the man before meeting him. He never asked Marguerite his age, assuming him to be another frog-eating killer. He was doing this tonight for Maeve and Maeve alone. He would stomach the presence of the little man, donning his best Sir Percy laugh and grin.

As he approached, he saw a short little Frenchman pacing outside, but did not think a thing of the man. The man looked more like a kid and Blakeney automatically assumed he was some sort of valet working for someone. Pulling the reins back as he pulled up, he called out, "Son! I dare say, I have a few francs here if you will tie up the horses for me. I fear I am a bit late." He smiled and stood upright in the carriage, having to duck a bit else he hit his head on the overhanging awning.

Armand stared at the blonde man.

"Excuse me?" He said. "I don't know who you are, Citizen, but I am not what you think. I'm waiting for my sister and her--" He spat the last word contemptuously "--fiancée! Tie up your own horses."

He raised a brow and watched the other man spit. He knew what a spit meant. It was the same thing as the glove to the face. Blakeney knew immediately this little Frenchman must be the fanatical Republican brother of his Maeve. Blakeney wanted to move over and make him eat that spit back... but Sir Percy donned his best smile and exited the carriage.

"I dare say little sprout, I think that will be in order." With that, Blakeney lead the horses over to the rack and wrapped the reins around three times. He brought a hand to his face and gave a yawn as he turned around. Moving over near Armand in his lanky manner, he stood next to Armand and just smiled down at the shorter man. Not saying a word.

Little sprout? Who the hell did he think he was???? Not even Robespierre would get away with that. Armand clenched his fists at his side instead of doing anything. He knew the other would crush him... literally. He was quite taken aback when the blonde stayed at his side. "What ARE you doing, citizen?" Armand growled.

The six foot odd tall of Brit glanced down at Armand. Sir Percy broke into his most innocent smile and said, "Why standing of course. Lud man. Are you daft?"

"Am I daft?" Armand asked, emphasizing the "I" and getting more angry at the tall stranger by the minute. "I asked what you were doing. If you need an example, I'm here waiting for my sister. I was LOOKING, citizen, for an answer something like that. And if you have any brains in that blonde head of yours, maybe you'll give me an answer."

He didn't care that he didn't know the man. He was INFURIATING!!!!

Sir Percy broke into a larger smile watching the young man become so unnerved. "Ah yes. Brains. It does seem a bit lacking at times, say whot?" Blakeney growled inside. At least he knew his cover was still working on the newest of viewers. Bah! If only the little sprout knew.

“That much is obvious, citoyen," Armand muttered in French.

He glanced around and whistled in his languid off key manner. Looking over at Armand, he asked simply. "Say, do you know what I am doing yet? Besides standing of course."

"Why, yes," Armand said, mockingly. "You're being an imbecile. I am guessing it's something of a hobby with you?" He said, snidely, cursing the man silently.

He bust out laughing in the hyena way of his and slapped his leg. "Good one say? Hobby of mine? I have many a hobbies but me thinks they would bore the intelligence of a man such as yourself."

He glanced around and looked toward the stage exit. "Well, if you see an incredibly handsome man named Armand St. Just, please let me know. My little Maeve said we were meeting him here tonight and I've heard so much about this remarkable man that I feel already like I know him."

With that, Sir Percy beamed down at the little Frenchman. "Surely you know how those things go." Blakeney knew Armand must realize that her fiancée was he. After all, how many other British men stood outside theatre doors?

Armand's jaw dropped, horrified. THIS was Blakeney?????

"You're Percy? Oh, merde! what is Marguerite getting herself into? An ENGLISHMAN.... And an idiot, at that!" Armand leaned, arms crossed, and he glowered at the Englishman.

"I really don't see anything so special about a brainless twit like you." He gave Percy a nasty grin. "And yes, Armand is incredibly handsome, unlike others..." He pretended to hide the last comment in a cough. He wanted, more than ever, to give Marguerite something to translate.

"So what do you see in her, sir Percy? She has nothing to offer you? What could a brainless aristo like yourself POSSIBLY desire about the smartest woman in Europe?"

Hearing the little Frenchman go on, he gave a dramatically shocked look.

"Dear me! Don't you just come on like the plague? Me thinks I must step back else your foul wickedness enter into my soul and I listen."

Sir Percy moved his cane back and then followed it. "Am I English? I thought that was rather obvious to all, but I suppose I could pass for an American or two. Excitable sprout, as stupid as I may be, I know a few things."

Marguerite was delayed a bit in getting down to the stage door. She had to speak to the management about her plans for the future which most likely as this point suggested that this run would be her final at the theatre. A few minor pieces of business also came up that had to be attended to before she left. She also took careful care of her dress and hair as always when meeting Percy. At last she set her things in order and left her dressing room.

"And I think that YOU should forget about my sister before YOUR wickedness enters HER soul!" Armand snapped shortly. He had half a mind to leave, but he'd promised....

"The only reason I'M here, citizen, is because I promised Marguerite that I would come. I told her I'd be the perfect Frenchman, and what you're getting now is more than you deserve."

But he was running out of steam. There was a pleasant, good-humored aura around the older man and even the angry Frenchman couldn't miss it.

He laughed. Just loud and strong he laughed at the younger excitable puppy. "Dear me! Perfect Frenchman? If this is your example good Sir I will take you over my knee and give you a proper thrashing say?"

"Marguerite's not here, is she?" It was a rhetorical question. "And, SIR," Armand growled, "I would LOVE to see you try."

He tossed back his head and laughed all the more at Armand. "More than I deserve? What a absolute funny joke!"

“Not as funny as the thought of Marguerite loving a moron like YOU."

Marguerite could hear the sounds of both her brother's and her fiancée’s voices below as she made her way down to the back entrance of the theatre. She took a deep breath and prayed tonight would be sweet and peaceful. However, when hearing her brother's harsh comment, which Marguerite guessed was aimed at Percy.

For want of taking the broad backside of his hand across the small sprout's face, Blakeney bit his tongue and glanced over to the stage door. "Perhaps Marguerite does not think like you." Sir Percy's face broke into a smile and he moved over to greet her.

"Good evening fair Mlle. Maeve. I hope you did not catch all of our entertainment."

"Good evening Percy. I see you have already meet Armand and unfortunately I did hear some of yours and my brothers conversation." Marguerite stated giving Armand a dirty look.

Oh, MERDE! if she had, Armand was... well, in trouble.

'Maeve?' He thought? He tried to remember where he'd heard it. Couldn't remember, so he just scowled at the Englishman, visibly restraining himself from running. He didn't smile, because it would look ridiculously forced and painful. He hated the man, and they hadn't even introduced themselves really. Deciding to say something to his sister, he spoke, but in French.

"This is going to be a very long dinner, Marguerite," He said to her, finally moving over next to her. Unfortunately, the boy was dwarfed by the Englishman.

Boy, did he feel ridiculous.

"Percy, I beg you'll excuse me for a moment while I have a word with my brother." Marguerite said as she stepped away from Percy and somewhat roughly grabbed Armand by the sleeve and dragged him around the corner of the building. In a stern, hushed voice, Marguerite snapped at Armand in her native French, "What in the world are you doing speaking to him like that? What did I tell you about behaving yourself this evening. Can't you watch yourself for one night, at least for my sake?"

"He started it!" Armand replied, lamely. The pleasantness of the older man was still there, but Armand was able to ignore that. "He's so... I don't know! He's rude, and I don't like him one bit!"

Which wasn't totally the truth. Armand wanted to like the man, but it would be wrong for him to. Against everything he believed in! And he wanted Percy to like him.

Well, this certainly wasn't the way to do it.

When he neared them both, Blakeney made it a point to turn his head downward and look at the short brother of Marguerite St. Just. There was something about the height of a man that intimidated others and he chose to stare down at Armand. But not without his charming Sir Percy smile.

Understanding French, he heard every last word they spoke. Although she moved away, she also thought she spoke French to her brother and still remained within earshot. Sir Percy of course could barely understand a word, but Blakeney however smirked inside at the commotion they fought about.

The young sprout, however, did have a point: It certainly was going to be a long evening.

He noticed that Percy seemed to be listening to their conversation. But he didn't understand a word of French, according to Marguerite, so it didn't matter.

Continuing in French, Marguerite snapped again at Armand. "Right now I am more inclined not to believe you Armand. I knew that you would hold what Percy is against him before you knew who he is. And I am sure if he was rude it was only in return."

"Just let go of me for a moment, Marguerite." He caught the look in her eyes. "I won't DO anything... I promise. Trust me." He stepped away from his sister and looked up at Percy. The man was almost a foot taller than him. Armand swallowed and spoke.

Marguerite kept a sharp eye on Armand as he pulled away from her and stepped back over towards Percy, holding her breath as he began to speak.

"Uh... Sir Percy, I hope you'll accept my apology for my rudeness. I'm afraid I have a problem with, uh... prejudging people, especially when it comes to my sister. I hope we can put that behind us and start again." Armand held out his hand. "I am Armand St. Just. It's a pleasure."

Watching Marguerite and her brother return, Sir Percy held on his face that polite and smirking smile. Their conversation was a typical one amongst siblings. He never had this experience first hand, however when one reaches 32 years of age, you see it enough. Now, reprimanded, the young sprout came over with a formal apology. Maeve must be better than even he thought.

Hearing the little Frenchman, Sir Percy chuffed and extended his hand back. "It is good to see that manners still are alive and well in this world. Lud! I do not feel so alone now." He took Armand's hand and shook it.

"The pleasure is all mine Sir. Baronet, Sir Percy Blakeney." With that, he stole a secret smile and glance over at Marguerite.

It as if a great weight was lifted off her slender shoulders. Marguerite briefly closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath in relief as Percy accepted Armand's short apology. Hopefully the worst was over for the night, but she wasn't counting on it.

Marguerite gave Percy a soft, coy smile much like the ones she teased him with on their first few meetings. She came around to stand between her brother and Percy and asked, "So now Percy, just what do you have in store for us this evening?"

Taking leave of Armand and his hand, moving over near Maeve, he leaned down and kissed her fingertips as was his manner. His heart beat rapidly watching that smile of hers. Oh if only they could ditch the little annoying sprout and go on a secret walk. He was eager to shed this manner of a gentleman and be alone with her.

Marguerite could guess at some of the thoughts in Percy's head as he allowed his lips to brush her fingertips. Checking to make sure Armand didn't see, she gave a quick wink and another coy smile. Percy would not be disappointed tonight.

"I have for you both planned a most wonderful evening. Dinner at the Chateau le Monier." It was widely known as an expensive restaurant and with the recent beheadings, many Republicans hung out there. Blakeney had not yet feared to walk where he wished in France so he took no heed in fearing this place now. Armand he knew was republic and it was here that Blakeney wanted to impress the boy.

Glancing at Marguerite, he wondered if he would be surprised by his bold plans.

"Oh really Percy?" Marguerite smiled, having been to the restaurant before and knowing that since it now was frequented by member powerful members of the Republic Armand had wanted to go there. "That's a wonderful choice for dinner. What do you think Armand?"

Following Marguerite's gaze, Sir Percy smiled down at the young Armand and was curious for his reply. He slipped his non-gloved hand down and around Marguerite’s back. Out of Armand's view, he toyed with the lace there.

Looking at Armand, Marguerite fiercely bit down on the inside of her lip to hide her threatening smile. She could feel Percy tugging slightly at the decorative lace bow on the back of her dress. He was rarely ever so daring, and in front of others, including her brother, it gave Marguerite a shock that sent excited shivers up her spine.

Armand restrained a sigh of relief. It seemed he'd finally done something right.

But when Percy told them where they would be having dinner, he groaned inwardly. ALL his friends would be there. See him with an aristo. An English aristo, fawning over his sister. Damn damn damn damn damn! "Are... are you sure that's where you want to eat, Sir Percy? I mean to say, it's not exactly a welcome place for a man of your status... Not even if we're with you, really," Armand added, nervously. One hand gestured to himself and Marguerite.

The tall Englishman glanced down at Armand and tilted his head off to the side. Inside, Blakeney was laughing. Laughing so hard it took all of his willpower to not give any hint Marguerite or Armand. Blakeney has been inside this place before. He knew what type of people stayed there. Again, one of the many times a costumed Republican would randomly show up, drink with the other, get the needed information and be on his way. Armand had no idea who he was dealing with. The Baronet loved it.

Sir Percy looked blankly at Armand and said dead seriously, "Why young sprout! I hear they serve some of the best food and wine in all of France there. A man of my status, in such company as Maeve, should not be expected to dine anywhere else? Say?"

The smile that now formed on his face was strictly Sir Percy's. One of the best innocent and dumbstruck confusion looks Blakeney owned. Let the argument little sprout work his way out of this one. Ha! He did not plan it entirely, but now dinner was going to become the next sport played.

"I'm sure everything will be fine, Armand. After all, Percy is not a French aristo, he is a foreigner, and unless he's done something notorious that has slipped past us, no doubt others will pay little if any attention to our party at all." Marguerite stepped back in a way to face Percy without reveling the hand that was playing with the back of her dress. "So, shall we be on our way then?"

He grinned down upon hearing her words. "Well spoken Maeve!" His fingers now moved up to dance along her exposed shoulders and spine. It was going to be a long evening, but he felt confident the trudge with the younger brother would be worth it. Glancing at the small Frenchman, Blakeney mused, "Don't you think that was said well little sprout?"

Armand shrugged. He wasn't worried for the sake of Percy. He was worried for Marguerite. What if that pushy, over-curious, power-hungry agent, Chauvelin showed up? Armand knew the man was the only thing between a person and the guillotine.

Well, then, if Percy figured it would be all right, Armand decided to try and trust the man, for now at least.

"All right, Percy, if you think it will be fine, I suggest we go." Armand glanced upward to see if the baronet was looking at him. "And another thing-- could you stop calling me 'sprout'?"

Marguerite fought to hide the giggles as Percy's soft fingers tickled the tops of her shoulders, hoping that Armand was still unaware of what her Englishman was doing.

He grinned over at Armand. The thrill of the chase. Having a victim so near with such an obvious goal. THIS is what made life fun. Not so much the outward appearances and the fancy speech but rather the game of the mind. Blakeney had made Armand his personal target for the evening and the boy had started squirming well enough for his taste.

"I can if you like stop calling you sprout, sprout. How about sprite? No, that sounds very water like and you seem more like... fire. How about Flame? Eh? No, too common I assure you. Nearly everyone in the Republic is probably named Flame." As they got into the carriage, Blakeney ignored any groan or protests from Armand and kept up the charade.

"Flambe perhaps? Like Flame but with a bit more of a finished flare?" Blakeney was amusing more himself at this point. Ah... sometimes being a Baronet could be fun. "I got it! How is this. Not sprout. Not Sprit, sprite, sprat, sprut or strut. But... are you ready for this?"

He leaned over and nudged Armand in the shoulder. "Blaze!" He glanced at Marguerite. "GGggRrrrrrrrrr. If I was an upcoming young Republican man, I would want a name that strikes fear into every other man's heart! And when Lucifer is taken, when Fang and IronFist are taken... why who else can we fear but.....AhhhOooooH!" He gave out a high pitched exaggerated cry of fear, "BLAZE!"

Blakeney had amused himself so much, he tossed back his head and just laughed and then laughed harder. He almost lost hold of the reins, so hard was his fit of giggles. Finally, wiping his eyes, he looked over at Armand and breathed out, "Which..." He laughed again and tried to catch his breath from his absolute silliness. "Which would...." The Baronet could not stop laughing. "...would you prefer?"

Marguerite was surprised by Percy's outburst. She had never seen him in such as silly, funny state. Perhaps he was just trying to calm Armand, bringing a little light heartedness into the mix.

Head buried in his hand, not mad, just amazed at how the man seemed capable of amusing himself, Armand shook his head. "How about 'Armand'?"

Marguerite tried to stop giggling, for Armand's sake, but Percy's outburst combined with the soft hidden touch across her back proved to be to much. She finally had to turn away from Armand before going on and faced Percy. "Yes Percy let's stick with Armand for tonight. Now," she continued with a mocking serious tone, "I told Armand I expect him to behave himself tonight, and I expect nothing less then you *best* behavior while we dine." After her little speech she truly expected nothing less then his best behavior during dinner. After dinner, however, maybe a different story.

Armand shot his sister a look that wasn't exactly friendly, but wasn't in the "malicious" range, either. "I'll behave." Armand seemed to realize that Percy might not believe that after their... discussion. "I promise.”

Ah yes. Someone was always around to damper his attempts at fun. At least he got the enjoyment out of it he needed. "But of course, Maeve." Sir Percy wiped the silly grin off his face and held a normal jovial smile. He could not help but be reminded of the child within that would receive numerous scolding from Sir Algernon. Alas. So it goes.

With that, he found comfort in Maeve's wink and took to the reins to lead the horses towards the restaurant. He gave a little off key hum and glanced over at Armand and his sister. He was very curious what was going on in this young man's mind. Armand just received a small taste of Blakeney. Once there, he parked the horses, helped Maeve out of the carriage, and offering his arm to her, lead them inside.

Armand hopped down, nervously, and followed them a few steps, then hopped in front of Marguerite.

"Marguerite... Are you sure? I've heard that that Chauvelin has been here, and you know what HIS reputation is..." He saw the look on Percy's face. "Never mind... forget I said anything," He said, softly, head dropping. "But don't blame me when all our heads are in the basket," He muttered in French, under his breath. Armand just crossed his fingers in his pocket and hope that nobody he knew was there....

Marguerite gave Armand a sour look. "I doubt anyone will pay us an mind at all Armand. And as for Citizen Chauvelin, he's been dinning here since the place filled nightly with nobility, long before it become a popular Republican gathering place." Marguerite leaned into Armand and whispered in French, "and he wouldn't dare approach me in the company of someone he doesn't know or has suspions of."

Armand shrugged, doubtful. "I hope you're right," he said in English. He gave a weak smile at the couple. "After you," He said.

He smirked listening to the siblings squabble of the situation. Not saying a word, he glanced back and forth watching them. As if watching a match of badminton.

Marguerite stepped closer to Percy, squeezing his hand a bit as they entered the restaurant. Marguerite briefly scanned the room while they waited to be seated. She recognized a few faces, but no one she knew beyond brief acquaintances.

During the course of dinner, Blakeney did his best not to take too many small dabs at the young Frenchman. He would have liked nothing better than to continue his little charade of foppish insults, but Marguerite had intervened.

No matter. He was in her company and the little sprout could protest all he wanted. Blakeney eyed around the quaint restaurant, looking for any officials that might be present. He knew few. He heard Armand speak about this Chauvelin fellow. Dressed as a blind beggar on the streets of Paris, he had heard of the officer, but noting more. He wondered what this man meant to Armand. A colleague perhaps.

Ordering a simple meal of wine, goats milk and duck, Blakeney glanced at the other two. "Will you both be having the same?" At least he could make Armand cringe in other ways if he tried.

Marguerite, after indecivly looking over the menu, decided then to aggress with Percy, "that sounds like a fine choice, I believe I will have the same."

Armand rolled his eyes. He hated goat's milk. But he loved duck. Percy didn't know that. Marguerite didn't either, as the one time he had it, he never mentioned to her, knowing that she would scold him because of his company. Marguerite's words were so... different from her usual self. Was this what Sir Percy brought out in her-- an obedient little wife who did everything he did in trying to please him? Armand hoped this was a temporary thing. "Weeeeeeell," He said, trying to make up his mind over the duck or the beef. He finally decided on the duck. "I suppose the duck, but... without the goat's milk." Armand glanced at Percy to see what'd he'd say to that.

Marguerite was surprised not just that Armand ordered the duck, she thought for sure he'd order something different simply to avoid ordering the same thing as Percy, but also that he avoided a snide comment about her taking after Percy. "Well, it seems we're all in agreement." She stated as she looked over at Armand as if to say 'see, it's not so hard to get along is it?'

The waiter came, took their orders and brought the wine Percy selected. The group had fallen quiet and Marguerite was forced to break it. "So Armand, you next told me how your exams went."

Armand had just taken a sip of his wine when Marguerite spoke to him.

How had exams gone? He didn't know. He was a bright student, and most of his school work was easy for him.

"They went well," Armand said, finally. "Not a real challenge. They never are. It's disappointing, really..."

He fiddled with his silverware, not really sure of what else to say. He hoped Marguerite--or even Percy!-- would elaborate on the question, if they wanted him to say more. He just didn't know WHAT to say.

"Well, I'm glad you feel you did well in school this year, but don't let your head get to big to Armand." Marguerite smiled with pride for her little brother as she turned to Percy, "Armand was especially bright and has the good fortune to have a scholarship to the Academy here in Paris as a day student."

In midst mouthful of duck, Blakeney glanced over at Maeve and her brother. His mind had been wandering over the family of St. Cyr. He had finally convinced the Marquis to allow himself to be helped. Things were getting worse in France and Blakeney told him it was now, or never.

Maeve brought him out of his thoughts and he dabbed the napkin along his mouth. He looked at them both blankly for a moment, trying to recall what was just said. "Oh! Yes. Jolly good Armand. Studies is a most important value for a man in today's society. Good show, I say." He looked over at Marguerite and Armand. He hoped they hadn't said anything else of importance prior.

"Percy, are you alright? You seem a little distracted." Marguerite inquired. As they at, Marguerite slid her small foot out from the skirts of her dress and let it rub against the back of Percy's leg under the table.

Blakeney smiled over at them both. It wasn't really a question he had to justify with an answer. Especially considering Maeve's soft and gentle touch driving his mind mad from under the table. Glancing over at Maeve, with the look one lover can only give another, he spoke softly. "Actually, I seem to be doing quite perfect at the moment. Thank you."

Marguerite continued to let her foot slide up and down the back of Percy's leg while trying to let her skirts ruffle as little as possible. "What kind of education did you receive in England Percy?" marguerite asked, hoping to find some type of common ground, however small and obscure, between Percy and Armand.

Dabbing the corners of his mouth, as the eating of the dinner was coming to a close, he finished his glass of goat's milk and glanced over at Armand. "To answer that directly, it would be next to none." The Baronet's mouth turned up in a teasing manner to his fiancée. He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek, not being able to fend off the feelings her foot was fascinating his mind with any longer.

Armand stopped chewing and his eyes widened. Exactly what was happening that he couldn't see? 'No... I do not want to know!' His mind told him, firmly. He swallowed his mouthful and asked Percy, "How's that, Sir Percy?"

He really did not like to talk about his father or his schoolings. Part of Sir Percy had always been in England a fool and it was hard to break the mold, even amongst people he would soon reveal himself too. The very thought of Sir Algernon made him stiffen up, so he worked at remaining jovial and relaxed. Glancing at Armand, the Baronet offered nothing else on the topic.

Armand took another sip of wine and thought a moment. Finally...

"History. History is fascinating. I love learning how people lived years and years ago." He grinned, getting more excited as he talked. "I love hearing stories about what people have done. Like Columbus ... sailing back and forth to the Americas ... that takes courage! And talent... I hear he was an excellent seaman!" He stopped eating to talk, more and more enthusiastic.

"I love to sail. I've only been to the coast once, with my friends, Éric and Françoise du Bois. They have a boat, a small schooner, and they took me out on it when I was about twelve. They taught me all about the different points of sail, and the knots, parts of the boat... It would be fascinating to be a sailor. Just think of all the places one could go ... what a person would see ... who they would meet!" He thought some more about things he liked.

"Art. I'm not much of an artist, but a friend of ours, Marie, is a superb painter. She showed me some drawings once, and they were beautiful. That is what got me started. "I've seen the most beautiful murals and sculptures ... they're indescribable."

"Riding is a fun one... I love the feel of the horse and the way they move. I got in trouble once, when I was a little younger, for riding my horse without a saddle, but it's more comfortable that way. A little dirtier, but what's a little dust." He eyed the Englishman. "Well, I don't suppose you would go for bareback riding." Armand grinned to show he was only joking. Done talking for a few minutes, he went back to quietly eating his duck.

Blakeney smiled listening to the energetic young sprout. His love for sailing and horse riding peeked an interest in the older Baronet. "Sailing is an usual means of transportation. Only by sea can you go to sleep on one country, and end up miraculously in the next while being lulled to sleep at the same time. Try that by carriage, and I assure you will not sleep so well."

Armand laughed. "How right you are, Percy!" He speared a piece of meat and gulped it down. He had just started chewing again when:

He glanced over at Marguerite, who seemed to be very happy that they were being civil to each other for the moment. Giving his love a smile, Blakeney looked back to Armand as he ate. "You know, Armand, if it pleases you, perhaps we can all plan for a day cruise aboard the Day Dream. She is a sea worthy ship no less and I'm sure once out onto the ocean you might have fun taking a crack at the helm."

Smiling at the boy, Blakeney stole a glance at Marguerite, hoping this would please her.

Armand choked. Hurriedly, he swallowed, gasped, and gulped down some wine. Bad move. It made him a little sick. The bitter taste made his throat burn. He didn’t like hard liquor, like brandy or whiskey, but he didn’t mind a little wine now and then. Finally, he said, excited, "You mean it? I didn't know you had a boat? What kind? How big? What's she like?" Five questions all at once must have been a lot, but Armand seemed to have forgotten a great deal of etiquette that night.

Nothing could have entertained the Baronet more at the moment. Suddenly, a wall that was put up between them fell as easily as if it had been made out of grass. The discomfort and hatred, if any truly existed, melted away and Armand looked excitedly at Blakeney. His questions shot off, and only later on in life would the Baronet realize this behavior must be a family trait of the St. Justs.

Marguerite smiled at Percy, glad that he and Armand were getting along. This night just seemed to be getting better and better. Things seemed now to be going even better then she had hoped, now that she was not forcing along any conversation as she thought she might have been forced to do. Now he was offering to take them out on his boat for a day. Marguerite knew Percy loved his boat and he had mentioned it several times before in such a way that she was even curious to see it. "Well, that sounds like a wonderful idea, doesn't it Armand." Marguerite said as she too had just about finished her duck.

He gave out a hearty laugh and looked at Marguerite. "My dear, you realize when you and I wed, it will be your boat as well."

Marguerite smiled and blushed as Percy mentioned their upcoming nuptials. She gently placed a soft hand over Percy's and gave it a small squeeze. Seeing him happy and Armand so far pleased or at least beginning to accept Percy, she didn't mind being slightly forward.

He gave a light pound on the table, leaned in and looked at Armand. "You ask many a questions, eh? Ties a far cry then for me to not answer. The Day Dream is a 31 foot long schooner yacht with a 12 foot beam. That means how wide she is, in case you forgot your terms." He smiled at the younger man, speaking matter of factly. "Modestly simple in design, yet cleverly decorated as she is one of the fine ships ever made on England's soil."

His lazy blue eyes gleamed in pride as he talked about his beloved yacht. "She is painted all white from bow to stern with large tan sails and gold accented rims. The masthead is 52 feet tall and her pulpit stretches past the bow so you may lean over and watch the ocean race on by."

The love for sailing was apparent in his eyes and he laughed. "Below deck are three small cabins and one large main cabin. She is remarkably sea worthy, and only one time was I ever alone and she almost capsized in a storm. She has a large and heavy keel though. It would take more than just a storm to sink her. Sink me! You will have such fun with her helm. She's delicate to the touch and responds like a dream."

He glanced over at Marguerite. "Like all things worthwhile it would seem, say whot?" Suddenly, he thought about something else delicate... that responded to him like a dream. He leaned over and kissed Marguerite again, loving this conversation and loving the very idea of being near her forever very soon.

Marguerite closed her eyes as Percy pressed his lips over hers as she once more squeezed his hand. As he pulled back Marguerite saw the way his eyes sparkled. Percy did not often talk about his life or family and friends, but one thing he did love was being on the sea and on his boat. She herself had always longed to go sailing, but unlike Armand had never had the chance. Like most parents she supposed, she had strived to give him much of what she herself could not have enjoyed when she was younger. More then anything now she was glad to two were getting along so that Armand wouldn't give her an ultimatum similar to the one she had received the night before. That happy thought of her dear brother, a loving husband, and possibly in the future a family including children of her own made her so happy in brought a single tear to her eyes.

The kiss was tender and he surprised himself, forgetting his customs I suppose, by planting her full on the lips. It was not an in depth kiss, like the ones he really enjoyed, but her touch made him shiver all the same.

Leaning back in his seat, he glanced at her and saw her eyes glow. Pulling out his handkerchief, he laughed and dabbed her eyes. "My goodness Maeve. No need for tears. A little talk of ships and sails and your will be weeping by the time we get to the horses."

Blakeney gave out a hearty laugh and folded his handkerchief away, tucking it under his sleeve. Looking back at Armand, he smiled. "So, have you seen any of your friends here? Am I about to be kicked out yet, being the sore thumbed Brit that I am?" The breaking of the ice had already happened, and it was time to finalize the deal.

Chauvelin -- who was here for business reasons, nothing more, be assured -- had long since caught sight of the unusually cheerful party. The boy in particular had drawn his eye in the first place; while they may have shared the same first name, the agent noted, only one of them was able to conduct himself suitably in a public environment.

Second to attract his pale and casual gaze, of course, had been Marguerite. Wonderful show she was putting on with the Englishman, if that's what he was ... fleetingly, he glanced her over, just in time to catch the movement underneath the table. Sickening, he thought to himself.

A few minutes later, almost as briefly, he caught her partner's eye -- smiled tightly, flipped his sash nonchalantly to hang from the side of his chair, and returned to his long-finished meal, a mere trace of a scowl evident upon his thin, sarcastic lips.

Pretending he hadn't seen them kiss, in response to Percy's question (which he assumed was poking fun at his earlier worries about Republicans), Armand looked around the room, casually. Most of the people he did not know. He knew a few of the students from his school ... there were some that he had briefly met at rallies and such....

Then his eyes fell upon a figure, on that he had heard of, and seen only from a distance... Agent Armand Chauvelin....

Armand's cheeks paled. What was Chauvelin doing here? Best tell Marguerite. Armand leaned towards his sister, and said softly in French, "Marguerite, tu connais il citoyen? (Do you know that man?)" and his hand flicked in the direction of Chauvelin and his tricolor sash.

Was he right to have worried?

Chauvelin glanced up again in time to spot the worry on that young man's face, and had to work to suppress a leer. Let them notice him, then -- he would not stand to join them unless they began to leave. Doubtless the blonde-headed brute would have something to say if the agent bothered them at table, and Chauvelin knew his limits -- especially those physical ones which were so obvious to any outside observer. He threw in a smile, surprisingly sincere, towards Marguerite -- whom he did miss quite a bit, indeed.

Marguerite was surprised that Armand would turn to using French, unless something had bothered him. Slowly she turned her head to see who Armand was looking at. Glancing over her shoulder her eyes meet Chauvelin's As they did, she watched as a creeping, leering look on his face slowly changed to a pleasant smile. She could feel her mouth start to tremble, but rather then speak or offer a similar smile, she graciously nodded her head to acknowledge his presence and then turned around to face the table.

Chauvelin set his jaw very slightly. It was no less than he'd expected, certainly, but her reaction was disappointing all the same. He pushed his plate across the table gently, determined to at least *seem* unobtrusive.

Blakeney kept up the smile, not wanting to break the stare with Marguerite. However, hearing the French spoken, it took all his wills to not turn his head immediately to see whom might be watching. Sir Percy knew not a spot of French, but luckily it was Armand's hand gesture that lead him off the hook.

Following where he pointed, Sir Percy smiled and looked behind him, scanning the room. When he meet the eyes of Chauvelin, his eyes did not stop the scan, but the way the eyes meet his own, he would bet his last Franc that is whom Armand meant. No one else seemed to be even looking this way.

Turning back to Armand, Sir Percy joked. "I say, did you find a classmate Armand? I won't pretend to understand a word of that lovely gibberish you and Marguerite say." He reached forward, bringing the empty wine glass and frowned down at it. "Now that has to be the saddest sight I have ever seen!"

Sir Percy snapped his fingers, looking for a waiter to fill his glass. "Sir? Monesewer? More wine please, um sevous places. How do you say more wine? Moooooore wine." Sir Percy pointed to his empty glass and smiled charmingly to the waiter, trying to get his point across. He kept his eyes off Marguerite, Armand, and the man in black, however his ears were wide open and alert.

Marguerite was thankful for the change in subject as Percy attempted to get more wine. The waiter stalked off with a somewhat odd look, almost as if offended by Percy. "Percy dear, many people here understand some English." Marguerite explained, hoping that the waiter was one of them.

Setting the empty glass down, his point finally getting across, Sir Percy leaned back in his chair and looked over at Marguerite. "Really" Well how cleverly charming!" He glanced up and over at the waiter and called out, "Mooooooore wine please my good man!" Letting out a small giggle, Sir Percy smiled proudly back at Marguerite.

Marguerite smiled back at Percy, so wonderful to see him fully out of his shell. She gently took her napkin and dabbed her lips with it and then stroked Percy's cheek with her slim fingers. Being that he and Armand were getting along so well, she didn't mind leaving them alone together. She stood up and whispered to Percy, "I hope you can find it in your heart to excuse me for leaving you alone with Armand." She winked as she stepped away from the table.

Armand felt his stomach twist and he gulped. Chauvelin was trouble. Everyone knew it. EVERYONE. Then the man smiled at them. No wait ... scratch that. He smiled at MARGUERITE. What exactly had been between them, Armand didn't really know. All he knew was he felt like strangling the man with that sash of his. He forced himself to look away, and he downed the last mouthful of.

He glanced back over at Armand. "Well now, are you going to invite your schoolmate over to meet us? I dare say, perhaps your friend would enjoy a pleasure cruise as well."

That was too much. Armand almost spat out the wine, but he forced himself to swallow. This caused him to start coughing, and he leaned back in his chair, gasping. He wiped his mouth quickly with his napkin and turned back to Percy. "School friend?" He asked incredulously. "No, Percy... that is not a school friend, nor is he a friend at all, and -- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Armand hissed, grabbing Marguerite's hand as she stood up. He didn't bother with French this time, just continued in English, answering and questions Percy might have asked in the process. "You're not ... no, don't go over there! Let's leave! Please ... he's trouble, you know it as well as I, and as well as all those people he's killed! My God, Marguerite, you could get yourself killed if you go and talk to Chauvelin!"

"Armand, what in the world are you talking about? I'm not about to leave this party expect for the purpose of freshening up." Marguerite said as she pulled her hand from he's grasp, "Besides, why would I want to speak to *him*?" That was, in part a lie. She had no desire to see much less to speak to Chauvelin tonight, although recently she did have reason to speak to him, or rather, he had reason to speak to her, trying to pry the information that she held from her. "Furthermore, why do you think speaking to him would instantly mean a death sentence. I am a proud daughter of France and all of Paris, members of the committee included, knows that. Now, if you would settle down I would like to attend to my business."

He saw Marguerite get up -- and, sure enough, her faithful dog of a brother had an objection. Truth be told, the agent would have given a month's salary, such as it was, for a few minutes alone with the woman ... she would no doubt ice them over, but still the idea was appealing. Chauvelin quietly waited to see if Marguerite would at least pass by; if not, her brother could prove interesting conversation as well.

"Oh..." Armand slumped back in his chair. He watched as she walked away, glancing at Chauvelin, who seemed to be watching her every move --'Sick,' Armand thought. He toyed with his silverware on the plate in front of him. Armand could feel the blush creeping up his neck and he wanted to vanish right then.

They boy had a long record of stupid things that he had done or said because he had been too hasty in his decisions. Now he added this to it... probably one of the dumber ones because of Percy's presence....

Speaking of which, Armand turned his face toward Percy. Was the Baronet laughing at him?

The scene taking place before him was most interesting. Chauvelin. There was that name again. He had heard it before and now they both were kind enough to point out to Blakeney who the face behind the name was. He had a great urge to excuse himself, make his way around and peek through something to watch the man and study him a while. Being dressed as Sir Percy, and the fact that Marguerite just got up to excuse herself more or less ruined his little thought.

The grand clothes of an Englishman sure could be a hassle at times. Instead, his chin bounced back and forth again, as if he was watching badminton. When Marguerite left, Sir Percy smiled at Armand and took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. "Now there is a cat that should never be crossed. That sister of yours, she does not miss a trick, does she." He smiled at winked at the younger man. Perhaps with Maeve, there was more they shared in common.

Marguerite graciously excused herself from the small party to, as she told her brother, freshen up. Unfortunately, that meant exiting first to the foyer, which meant passing by Chauvelin's table. As it was, his back was to the entrance and he was facing their table. She carefully picked her way through the tables, but did not wish to take a longer route that would take her way from Chauvelin's table feeling it would be too noticeable. She moved swiftly to move out of his view, but when it came to passing by his table, she couldn't help but to look. She didn't move her head, though she shifted her eyes to make contract with his. Armand wasn't entirely right, talking with Chauvelin's would not send her to the guillotine. She had spoke with him before on many occasions, and in fact had shared much more then words with him. He, in an intimate manor, was in some ways to her what she is to Percy. But that was now in the past, and she had moved on, but at ever meeting she and Chauvelin had, she felt that perhaps he had not, not entirely. As she passed her eyes meet his, but she kept her head straight and her walk firm and sure. This not had been perfect, almost too perfect, and she was not about to let him of all people change that.

As Marguerite passed swiftly by, Chauvelin watched her eyes -- he had never pretended to be unaffected by her appearance, but somehow tonight he felt differently. It seemed as though she had been away for ages, and indeed he could hardly remember the last time he had truly spoken with her.

And now she seemed different. He could understand her chill demeanor, considering the circumstances under which they had parted. Never before, however, had even vague suspicion surrounded her name, in his mind. He had thought her appropriately ardent -- one of her more attractive traits, he admitted -- and in possession of what he considered to be a grand set of ideals. Yet here her companion was obviously foreign, and not *only* foreign, but ... English. A nationality not known for their love of French *anything*, never mind civil wars.

Chauvelin rose quietly, and almost fluidly strode for the foyer, sash swaying conspicuously at his side. For the benefit of St. Just and his new friend, he attempted to appear inoffensive ...

Armand watched, feeling a tad sick, Chauvelin leave his table and exit the room in the same direction as Marguerite. Was he following her? He gulped and crossed his fingers. 'I hope not,' was all he could think. He turned back again to Percy.

When Marguerite left, Sir Percy smiled at Armand and took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. "Now there is a cat that should never be crossed. That sister of yours, she does not miss a trick, does she." He smiled at winked at the younger man. Perhaps with Maeve, there was more they shared in common.

Armand gulped some water down. "Now there is a cat that should never be crossed." Was he talking about his sister or Chauvelin... or both? "What do you mean, Percy?" Armand asked, taking another long drink of water.

The young Frenchman seemed very interested in where Marguerite was going and Blakeney studied his face only to see it go from worried to worse. Seeing Armand gulp, his hand absentmindly cross his fingers and remain silent to his question only drew up a red flag to the Baronet. He turned slowly in his chair and looked behind him. The man in black, the police Citoyen Chauvelin, had gotten out of his chair, as it was now empty.

Looking back at Armand, Blakeney watched his further stressed actions, taking to the water like he might to Brandy. It was a simple statement, yet Armand had some other things on his mind. Knowing he was a Republican of France, the Baronet wondered now what was going on.

"Well, you're a man of France Armand. Tell me, do you cross these types of cats often?" Sir Percy smiled and leaned back into his chair, but the Baronet was cleverly baiting a trap. Either way, he was safe and either way, he would get the desired information he needed.

"Cross people like Chauvelin? Never. You don't cross them. If you do, you haven't long to live. The last words you will hear is 'Prepare them for execution!'" Armand shuddered. "The man is loyal. Too loyal. He would do anything for this country. I would too, but he has gone too far. There are other ways to solve problems than killing. But he doesn't even try. If he sees a person who may be a threat to him or his position, he arrests them, Republicans and Aristos alike. So you see, Sir Percy, why, even with Marguerite and myself here with you, we three are not totally safe." Armand paused to take a breath.

"Did that answer your question? I don't think I totally understood it."

Blakeney blinked and listened to Armand as he spoke. He was originally speaking of Marguerite, but since Armand was so willing to speak of other things, far be it from the Baronet to stop him. He sat there and listened intently to the younger man.

"All is well Armand." Sir Percy smiled and glanced behind him again, looking for signs of Maeve or the Citoyen.

Armand watched, tensely, as Chauvelin put himself between Marguerite and the doorway. He was dying to get up and choke the man with that annoying sash of his, but he restrained himself. It seemed like hours that he sat there, watching her...

"I'm going to go mad," He muttered to himself, in French. Then he looked at Percy. "Sorry about that, Percy. I was just thinking aloud. In fact, would you excuse me a moment?" Armand stood up and headed after his sister, just to check that she was all right.

Watching Armand get up, it was quite apparent to Blakeney that something was wrong. Moreso than just a simple policeman and this Republican brother of Maeve's. Getting left at the table, he sat there trying not to be too obvious, and slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small mirror.

He brought it up in front of his face, pretended to fuss over his cravat, and then shifted it ever so slightly so he could watch Armand's form become smaller in the distance. His back was to them, but his mirror was not.

Armand, of course, didn't see this. Indeed, he had almost expected Percy to grab his arm and say "And where do you think YOU'RE going, young sprout?". What he was about to do wasn't exactly a polite thing to do. But Armand St. Just was going to try acting. He was going to feign innocence and naïvete, and he was going make those bright green eyes as wide and childish as he could, and try and get his sister back to the table.

Marguerite returned to the foyer, feeling refreshed and a bit cooler. Had she know it would be so warm in the restaurant, she would have chosen a dress made of lighter material. Feeling much better and more then ready to return to the company of Percy and Armand, she made her way towards the dinning room only to come face to face with Chauvelin. Shocked she was sure much of the color drained from her face as she took a step back. Yet, she refused to speak. If he wanted words with her, he would have to begin the exchange.

Chauvelin did not hesitate to begin, perceiving her reluctance. In one liquid motion he gave a small bow, and swept up her hand to bring it quickly to his lips, dealing a soft sort of glance from his lowered stance, assuring silently that his intentions were no more than casual. Gently he released her, and took his own respectful -- albeit small -- step backwards.

Marguerite held her breath as he stepped forwards towards her. She deeply wished to back further away but a wall prevented such movement. She watched with careful eyes as he stepped to what seemed within inches to her. He bowed and reached down, but she did not fight him off when he took her hand and brought it to his lips. Only when he moved back did she feel slightly releaved, unfortunately, he did not move as far back as she had hoped.

Chauvelin frowned slightly when he noticed her reply, though purely physical. Perhaps he had expected something a little more fitting to their previous relationship ... he even felt, rather curiously, the slightest bit wounded. “Marguerite," he began, offering a thin smile, and launching into his heavily accented rendition of English, a rather pointed editorial concerning her recent company. "I have not seen you in so long ... and I cannot help but wonder who, precisely, your friends are." He gestured very slightly back to her table.

“It hasn't been that long, Armand, lest you forget our last meeting." Marguerite stated in French, thinking to herself she wished she could forget their last, along with a fair number of their other meetings. She watched as he gestured to her table, hoping the Percy did not see Chauvelin follow her. "As far the question of who my guests are, that is none of you concern being that you are not one of them." she knew that was harsh but she was not in the mood for such a meeting this evening and regardless of her answer, he would not leave her be so easily.

The agent raised his eyebrows coolly, and reverted to his native language. "It's been too long," he insisted, remaining slightly more than civil. "But very well. I was going to request your presence later this evening, for coffee or some such -- your friends, of course, would be welcome -- but if you'd rather speak here ...?" He took a step to his left, guiding her towards a rather lonely little corner at one end of the foyer, as well as placing himself between Marguerite and the entrance to the main chamber.

"I have plans for this evening, with my private party, which you are keeping me from now. Personally I prefer not to speak with you, although you seem oddly insistent upon it, being so now would be best, but keep it quick so I may return before I am missed." She watched his movement and hesitantly moved closer into the corner, which unfortunately left her back in and trapped to his attention.

"Thank you," Chauvelin responded dryly, losing all hope of conducting this partially as a pleasurable meeting. "I only have one or two questions for you -- but never mind, the first you would not answer." He resumed a casual stance, and stood beside her in the darkened little corner. "The second, of course, concerns an ... 'acquaintance' of yours. The Marquis St. Cyr?" He watched for a reaction, as he took a pinch of snuff, unsure of how difficult this session would prove.

Marguerite felt as if a strong force had hurled her body back, slamming it against the hard wall. She stepped back and gasped, "You dare to ask such a question? Makes me wonder what the first question you declined was." Marguerite looked deep into his eyes, trying to determine what was on his mind, but she already had strong feelings. She swallowed a small lump in her throat, "Well, what is it?"

Chauvelin erased whatever hint of a smile might have lingered around the corners of his mouth, and replaced the tin he held into his pocket. "I have heard -- this is, by the way, very unofficial, at this point. Nothing has been reported, and I believe I am the only one pursuing his case, actively. I have heard rumors ... concerning his intent to depart the country." He kept close watch on the woman's face, and slowly continued.

I have also heard -- learned, really, is a better word -- that you might provide some additional insight into the situation?"

Marguerite lowered her voice, and tried to move even further back into the tight corner. She waited until he was close, but not threatening, "I have heard nothing about the Marquis St. Cyr leaving the country. The only thing I had heard was about the possibility of his plotting with Austria. That is still clearly a ruler and I have no more information on that to give to you." That was a lie, but as an actress, she was better at controlling the giving signs then most people are. Armand Chauvelin knew her well, in some ways too well, but she was still sure he would believe her when she said she had no proof. It was not a total lie after all, she did have the proof, she just did not have proof to give him.

"Austria. That was the place, yes ..." He paused, placing his chin in one hand, to look down at the floor. Chauvelin looked back up, and nodded just a bit. "You haven't any more information, you say? A pity ..."

He glanced back towards Marguerite's table, where her party still waited. "Certainly you know *something*. 'The cleverest woman in Europe' should have a book for every sentence *I* could decipher, yes?"

Marguerite looked past Chauvelin to see where he was staring. Percy and Armand were still seated at their table chatting away. She was extremely glad at this point, being in the presence of her former lover, that she was not wearing Percy's engagement ring. "No," she snapped, "I already told you I do not have any more to give you regarding the Marquis. I've heard nothing but rumors and hearsay, no doubt much the same things you've heard."

"Yes, so you've said ..." Chauvelin followed her gaze, and smiled tightly when his eyes fell upon the Englishman. "Unfortunate. But moving on -- who is that dashing figure with your brother?" He straightened his shoulders, slyly curious. "You must be very close, yes? I'm sure he knows everything about you?"

"That dashing figure, as you call him, is Percy Blakeney, a friend from England." Marguerite purposely left out his title and neglected to note that Percy was more, much more, then just a friend. It was bad enough she had to deal with him as a former lover, she did not need him to attempt to rival Percy for affection, not that it mattered, Marguerite knew who the winner would be. "Not that you should care about my current company."

I disagree -- we all must be cautious with our company, as I'm sure you well know. Especially with --"

Marguerite stepped back again, only to press herself harder against the wall. It sounded as though he was trying to threaten her. Marguerite was always, as he put it "cautious with her company" not it was any of his business anyway. She was thank you for Armand's interruption nonetheless.

Putting on the face of a childishly concerned brother, Armand summoned up every ounce of courage he had in his body. He leaned against the wall, not quite around the corner, and asked, in a soft, boyish voice, in French, naturally, "Marguerite? Is everything all right? You've been gone so long... we we're starting to get worried."

Chauvelin smiled tightly at the young man, and inclined his head a bit. He was certain he'd been recognized, and was no doubt being scrutinized, by the rather zealously protective boy (whom Chauvelin found quite annoying, and always had) -- but no matter. The boy might even be of help.

Marguerite was startled by the new voice and moved to see Armand standing behind Chauvelin. She silently swore to herself. This was the last thing she needed. How long had he been there? Had he heard anything? Did Percy send him, or will he tell Percy anything? "I'm fine Armand, go back and sit with Percy, I will rejoin you in a moment."

"No, no, Citoyen St. Just -- please, stay a moment, you may be as much help to me as your darling sister." Chauvelin knew that Armand had ... interacted with the St. Cyrs, if only minimally, and not favorably, but a harsh word from the young man might have been enough to pursue a family already known to be traitors. And it certainly would not hurt to convince him that he would pose no threat to his sister ...

Armand cocked his head and raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Are you sure? Because I can..." He glanced at Chauvelin and fell silent.

"Ah, well.... see you in a bit then." And he turned, just in time to see Percy put the mirror away. Armand laughed to himself. The whole time he was gone, the Englishman had been fooling with his clothes. Armand walked back to the table and sat down, grinning at Percy.

Marguerite watched Armand until he retook his seat at the table with Percy before turning back to Chauvelin. "You see, you've kept me too long." She snapped.

Chauvelin smiled once again, and gave a little bow to Marguerite before stepping back from the corner, allowing her an uninterrupted path from the foyer. "It's been a pleasure speaking with you, Marguerite ... though I must admit I'd have found it more enjoyable if you weren't so rushed. Perhaps later? I would love to speak with your new partner," he had to work not to spit the word at her directly. "He must be curious."

Marguerite carefully eyed him as he gave a bow and stepped away. "I would have enjoyed this night much more if I did not have to speak to you at all." She moved and stepped forward, getting a glance at Percy and then hastily turned back on him. "And you had better stay away from Percy, do you understand me, I don't want to know that you have approached him, and do not even think of approaching me again in Percy's company." Marguerite hated to go this far, but to buy peace for herself and Percy, she made a daring choice. She looked around to see no one was watching before leaning back towards the corner. "I might know something, but I'm not sure yet. Meet me at the cafe around the corner from the theatre the day after tomorrow, 11am. Until then, stay away from me, stay away from Armand, and stay away from Percy." She snapped the last sentence and moved back to the table.

"Cravat out of place, Percy?" He asked, trying to smother the laugh as he waited for Marguerite to return.

The small gathering did not take very long, and for that, he was disappointed. Why Armand became flustered at the sight of this other man, Blakeney did not now, but it had caused the little man to speak in French worriedly. No matter, seeing Armand return to the table, he continued to fiddle with his neck piece and slowly bring down the mirror into his outer jacket pocket.

Upon hearing Armand, Sir Percy broke into an insane laugh and slapped the younger man on the arm as he walked by. "By Jove! You little sprouts don't miss a trick, now do you?" His eyes widened at Armand and he ducked his head, looking around and bringing his hand up to his face. With a small gasp, he glanced about and looked at Armand. "Egad! I'm sorry. There I go again. I hope you can forgive that little slip of the tongue Armand."

"That's fine Percy. It's no big deal..." Armand looked earnestly towards where his sister remained with Chauvelin. Then he glanced at Percy. "I'm sorry if dinner didn't quite turn out the way you had hoped... I don't know why HE had to show up anyway..."

Is your sister catching up with an old schoolmate? He certainly does not look young enough to be a mate of yours."

Sir Percy smiled at Armand and Blakeney was glad he asked the question instead of choosing to just play unobservant. Why, even Sir Percy would notice Maeve being gone so and long for her company.

Armand had to laugh at that one. "Who, Chauvelin? No... not a school friend. I am not quite sure how they know each other. Friends, at one point, I suppose. Now... I don't know exactly what happened between those two. Now we both avoid him, though for different reasons. I know that he's... trés dangereux, very dangerous. And, personally--and I don’t know about Margot-- I want to keep my head." he grinned a little. "Helps when you want to live a nice, long life."

He nodded, finding out not much more on this mysterious Chauvelin fellow. No matter, Sir Percy nodded with a smile at Armand and patiently waited. He gave a small languid yawn and momentarily closed his eyes to rest.

She took in a few calming breaths before reaching the table. She came from behind Percy and placed a soft hand on his shoulder and leaned in to whisper into his ear, "I'm sorry I took so long, did you miss me, my Percy?"

Finally hearing her voice, Blakeney turned his head and smiled, meeting her lips with his for an answer. When the two warm lips departed, he reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“So Maeve, what will be your pleasure now, Hmm? It appears your younger brother does not despise me so and the meal is now finished. Shall we invite Armand on a carriage ride around Paris?" He glanced at Armand with a grin. He was hoping the idea of riding around with Sir Percy and his sister would repulse the boy.

Marguerite smiled and giggled. "I think taking a carriage ride is a lovely idea, Percy. Would you care to join us Armand?" Marguerite asked, as she returned Percy's affection my rubbing her nose softly against his.

He took her soft warm hand into his ungloved own. He loved the feeling of her touch. Her smile. Her breath. Her eyes. Her laughter. Her teases. Her kisses. He would never outright admit it, but he was in love. Head over heals, that part he knew.

When she rubbed noses with him, part of him wished he never mentioned a stupid carriage ride. What if Armand said yes?!?

Armand raised an eyebrow incredulously. Go with them? He shook his head and flashed the couple an are-you-kidding-me? look..."Um, I think I'll pass. You two go enjoy yourselves. I'll walk home." He stood up. "Percy, I... um..." He tried to think of something to say, but couldn't so he shrugged. "Welcome to the family." And he grabbed the other's hand, shook it, and kissed his sister goodnight. "I'll see you in the morning, Margot."

And with that said, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked out of the restaurant...

Marguerite left Percy to settle the bill and rushed after Armand, insisting that he be given a ride home anyway. Meeting with Percy outside and taking the carriage home, Marguerite walked with Armand upstairs and said goodnight before going into her room and retrieving a small box hidden in a dresser draw, She hastily shoved the box into her small handbag and flew down the steps to meet Percy again.

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