You know, she silently railed at Licinius.
“You need to smile,” Lord Cassian murmured.
Instead of a smile, a sob built. “I cannot.” How could she when her heart was breaking?
“Perché sospiri in mezzo al trionfo?”
Why do you sigh amid triumph?
Her lower lip quivered. There was no triumph.
She stole another furtive glance. Henry no longer gazed upon Lady Angela but at the performance below. Not Fleur. But the stage. A victory. A small one.
“Se amicizia seconda il mio coraggio,
Io parlerò senza timore.
If friendship strengthens my courage,
I shall speak without fear.
“My dear,” Lord Cassian stretched his admonishment into a long, slow drawl. “The goal was ‘blissfully head-over-heels for me’, not ‘his company is so tedious, I’m going to cry’.”
This time, the devilish gentleman did the impossible.
Fleur laughed.
Their presence drew every eye, even those of the performers. Charming as ever, Lord Cassian acknowledged the attention with a wave and a shrug that clearly said, ‘Shoot us. We’re in love.’
“Much better,” Lord Cassian said when they were no longer front and center.
And he really was charming, and his grin was contagious, so that even dying inside, she managed a smile.
His rogue’s one widened. “Even better.”
“Roma ti acclama vincitore,
Eppur sembri oppresso dal fato.
Rome acclaims you victor, yet you seem crushed by fate.
Fleur couldn’t help herself. She stole a sideways peek at Henry’s box and wished she hadn’t. Her heart folded onto itself.
There was no purpose if Hart was so absorbed in the breathtaking Lady Angela and oblivious to Fleur seated in the box next to his.
“Se amicizia seconda il mio coraggio,
Io parlerò senza timore.
If friendship strengthens my courage, I shall speak without fear.
Fleur angled her neck, indicating to Lord Cassian that she needed him. “He doesn’t even know I’m alive,”
He scoffed. “Hart hasn’t taken his eyes from you.”
Fleur lifted her incredulous gaze.
“Trust me, darling.”