Chapter Thirty: Another Door Opens

Before Babette knew it, the carriage had started again with a jolt and was heading back down La Bazolle's drive to the road. They rolled around La Clayette, and Babette received a prospect of her hometown one last time—something she hadn't realized she'd want or need.

Country fields soon took over, and still, she had the folded piece of parchment grasped in her hands. She eyed it carefully: It was sealed with the de Créquy crest. Her curiosity felt particularly violent at that instant, and she had the urge to pop the wax.

No. Not yet…

The coach had barely slowed before Babette was hopping out of it. Marc gaped at her, having been rendered useless, as she hurried up to the front doors of La Bazolle and banged the knocker, bouncing on her toes all the while. It felt like too long, though it only could have been a minute at most before their majordomo opened the door.

He blinked at the energy in her expression. "Mademoiselle Chantemerle! My humblest apologies, but were you expected?"

"Non, Renaud, désolée," Babette hurriedly said. "But is Nicolas available?"

"He is in the library. Shall I fetch him?"

"If you would, s'il vous pla?t."

Babette became so antsy waiting in the foyer, she had to pace and wander in aimless circles. Why was it that when she was in a rush or incredibly excited, the world and everyone in it seemed to move the tortoise to her hare?

Finally, at the slightest sign of movement, she caught the vicomte coming down the staircase, a look of awe on his face. "Babette, what are you doing here? You could be halfway to du Lac by now!"

She set her arms akimbo, mouth agape. "Do you truly think so little of me? You think I would run off to live a humble life of servitude beside the man I adore and not pay my respects to the monsieur who made it possible? You jest. You must! It is the most absurd notion otherwise."

"When will you stop granting me more credit than I deserve?" he retorted just as generously. "Your father asked, I gave my consent, agreed to his plan, and poof!" He pretended to wipe his hands of it. "Fini! Nothing more needed to be done on my end."

When Babette opened her mouth to offer a rebuttal, he stopped her with a laugh. "And I'll not have you waste any more time arguing with me over it! Come, I don't want you to arrive later than expected, so recite the piece you've prepared."

She heaved a dramatic sigh but conceded. Then, without ceremony, she hurried up to him and almost knocked him over with the strength of her embrace.

"Oof!" he grunted, but he managed to keep them both from tittering over. As hoped, he returned her hug securely and tightly.

"Thank you," she murmured into his collar.

He rested his cheek on her head. "You're welcome."

She then peeked up at him, daring him with her eyes. "Are you still going to object to me making time for this?"

Nicolas had the decency to look innocent. "I am not saying another word about it," he promised.

"Bon," she applauded, beaming before kissing his cheek and taking him by the shoulders. He looked back into her unwavering gaze. "Nicolas, mon chéri… I can never repay you for everything you have done for me, but I would love to spend the rest of my life trying, in whatever way, shape, or form you will permit. Can we… Would you allow us to remain friends?"

Nicolas smiled, and seeing his precious dimples made her smile back instantly. "Of course, Babette. In fact, I count on it, for future and—let's hope—less excruciating holidays, ones in which I hope you will be accompanied by Lumière."

Babette exhaled, but it was a somewhat strangled breath. "Let's hope."

As he took her hands and squeezed them, he looked quite confident, which did bolster her mood a bit. "I have faith."

His hazel eyes lit up. "And… I have something you could take to help." He dipped a hand inside his coat and pulled out a letter ready to be sent and handed it to her. "I was going to send it by express, but I think it will mean much more coming from you. If anything, I hope it helps save you some breath."

Babette giggled to herself. Dearest Nicolas, she sighed. With a heart as pure and good as his, he would surely find true love someday. Should the opportunity arise, she would even take pains to make it happen. He deserved to reside on the same tier of happiness he had helped place her on and more.

One step at a time.

She tucked the letter away into her dress pocket and stared happily out the window, awaiting to skirt that little town of Molyneaux that had cued her near arrival all those months ago. Her feet tapped excitedly and anxiously on the carriage floor at the very thought.


It took what seemed like several hours, but they were finally inside the depths of the familiar forest that surrounded du Lac. Babette was devoutly beside the window, her face nearly pressed to the glass in her anticipation.

The squeak of a gate was soon heard, and her carriage rolled onto the bridge that spanned the ravine. There was so much natural beauty surrounding this monument of architecture, it left her breathless. This time, the coach didn't stop outside the front doors, but took the path to the stables near its southern side. It seemed to mosey along at so slow a pace, it was as though they were purposely trying to fray Babette's nerves.

And then it stopped—as did her heart. Oh, mon Dieu… she was here. She was here.

Marc came to open her door, but she couldn't move. "Mademoiselle?"

Her eyes flew up to see the footman was peeking inside, his brows furrowed with concern. "Are you all right?"

She opened her mouth but closed it just as fast; she didn't even have the excuse of being lost in thought. Her mind was blank. Utterly and completely blank.

"Oui," she managed to say, taking Marc's offered hand and stepping very carefully down to the ground, but then she looked immediately up.

With its stone and ivy fa?ade, Gothic arches and windows, and cherubic figures dotting the parapets, the stunning grandeur of le Ch?teau du Lac nearly overwhelmed her. It was even more breathtaking than she remembered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marc was still watching her. "I am sorry if I seem… strange. I am… a bit nervous."

"Oh, it's not strange at all," he assured with an endearing smile. "You are handling this much better than I ever could, if that's any sort of consolation." Admiration crossed his features. "You're a very brave woman, Mlle Chantemerle."

Babette exhaled a bemused laugh, thankful to at least still be able to breathe. "Bravery is normally equated with foolishness."

Marc seemed to ponder that for a moment before he spoke. "Fools take risks, it's true. Too many risks. But from where I stand in this world, you aren't a fool if you take the right risks."

She looked to him, absorbing his words, before she granted him a sincere smile, and he returned it. "Merci."

He bowed to her and was about to assist with unpacking her luggage before she called, "Marc?"

When his dutiful gaze met hers, she imparted, "Bernadette is a wonderful woman, and the kindest, dearest one I have ever met."

He blinked in surprise at the mention, but his face brightened like a flower taking to sunshine. "I heartily agree." His grin was meek, and it touched Babette's heart. "You… know of my feelings?"

"I know hers," she confessed, her noble smile growing. "Please help look after her, especially while she finds a new mistress… a genuine and understanding one."

"I consider that a direct order," he pledged, touching his heart and bowing deeply before he beamed at her. "Thank you, mademoiselle."

A lump full of emotion had formed in her throat, so all she could do was smile and graciously incline her head to him.

She knew what she had to do and where she had to go, but she didn't move. She gazed up at the spires above, and a sense of déjà vu washed over her. It had been almost eight months since she had stood at the feet of this ch?teau for the first time, and today… was her birthday.

Shaking her head in wonder, she filled her lungs with the fresh air of the grounds, and it invigorated her far more than she'd predicted.

With slow and steady steps, Babette outfitted herself in the dignity she had been bred to carry and made a path around the servants transferring her luggage from the carriage, watering the horses, and taking Harmonie into a stall.

As she stepped from the stable into the halls, memories began to crawl back like sea turtles to the ocean: Carrying fresh flowers to the suites for the Spanish royalty and their party, helping decorate the halls for Christmas according to Angélique's vision, ducking to hide out of Cogsworth's sight when she and Lumière had taken a friendly indoor stroll together… But why was everything so much grander and richer now than before?

The Queen. She needed to find the Queen. Her quarters? She knew where they were. She'd only been around them when she used to clean, but she could recollect which pair of doors had been Her Majesty's.

Purpose filled her strides as she started down the corridor leading toward the West Wing when—

"Babette?"

The young lady spun around on a dime and upon seeing the addresser, figured she must have a severe case of tunnel vision; Queen Beatrice had been sitting in a nook off to the side, but was still in the line of sight of the stable entrance.

Babette crossed her hand over her chest and dipped into a deep, reverent curtsey. "Your Majesty," she replied with head bowed. "My apologies for not having seen you."

"Come, my dear, you are perfectly all right." The Queen stepped nearer to help her rise, a soothing warmth exuding from her person, and Babette's shoulders eased just slightly, especially when Her Highness smiled at her. "Welcome back."

"Merci beaucoup," Babette breathed, half-relieved, half-exhausted, even though the hardest part of her journey had yet to begin. "May I presume you have… received my father's letter?"

"Indeed, you may." And a similar look of appreciation appeared on the Queen's face, which made Babette blink to be sure she was seeing it correctly. "I must admit, I was… quite intrigued by his request, but you had already proven yourself in your time here that I felt no need to hesitate on granting you the position."

"And you are most gracious, Your Majesty. Consider me forever indebted to you for your kindness."

"Oh no, I should be thanking you. It just so happens one of my lady's maids recently resigned, and you have saved us the trouble of finding a replacement. Quite a wonderful coincidence, is it not?"

A bit dazed at it, Babette admitted, "Oui… Quite."

"We shall discuss all of the details of your tasks tomorrow. I'll allow you to get settled and… perhaps reconvene with an old friend of yours."

Babette almost missed the wink directed her way, and it made her do a double-take.

Before she could even ask it, the Queen was already answering her question: "He should be wrapping up luncheon now. It has been his habit lately to return to his quarters directly after."

Babette curtsied rather hastily this time due to her rapidly beating heart. "If I may take my leave?"

She was enlivened to see her new mistress wave her off with enthusiasm. "Please do!" the Queen bid.


As Lumière was assisting in cleaning up the kitchen, a couple maids hurried through the doors in a strange commotion. The maids acting as servers this afternoon were pulled aside in a fit of awed whispers. Being caught up in a dialogue with Mrs. Potts, Lumière tried not to pay any mind. It wasn't unusual for maids to hurry around to their friends with the latest juicy bit of gossip, but he couldn't avoid catching the glances in his direction and the following giggles that ensued. Whatever any of that meant, he was going to ignore it all. He wasn't in the mood for their silliness. Besides, if they had found some new reason to make a jest of him, then by all means, he wouldn't stop them.

Determined to keep his distance from the gaggle of maids, Lumière excused himself with Mrs. Potts' permission and exited through the dining room. The beeline he made for his quarters was a firm and fixed one today. He'd had a particularly horrible dream the night before.

Well, not 'horrible' in the sense it naturally portrayed. The dream itself had been… wonderful. A pure fantasy. And it had been so vivid, from touch, to sight, to sound—and even taste—there had been no questioning while in the moment of it that it hadn't been reality.

But reality always arrived, especially when it wasn't wanted.

He took a deep breath, but it almost came out as a growl. He just wanted to get to his room, write down his frustrations, and then watch the parchment burn, just like he'd been doing since he'd finished his letter to Nicolas. Writing had served to be rather good therapy, given the circumstances. And he wanted to get them off his chest without burdening dear Mrs. Potts or Angélique, bless their hearts. They'd lent their ears often enough to his struggles as it was.

He rounded the corner to his room's corridor and saw two women were chatting outside his door. One was Véronique, speaking animatedly to the other, who was dressed very nobly in a riding outfit that resembled the color of—

Lumière stopped right in his tracks, but it was then Véronique caught sight of him.

"Oh, he's here!" she whispered with delighted conspiracy. "I will let you be, but it's lovely to see you again! Welcome back!"

And the voice that had haunted his waking dreams replied sweetly, yet breathlessly, "Merci beaucoup. It is… good to be back."

Véronique beamed and waved before glancing at him. She bit her lip to try and stifle her smile as she scurried away, but she ultimately had the same look as the other maids from the kitchen.

The hall's silence became palpable. He had not yet seen the lady's face, but he hoped and feared it was the one he hadn't been able to get out of his mind for months.

With a trembling hand, she swept an invisible lock of hair behind her ear before turning to face him. Those aquamarine eyes met his and his breath suddenly stopped.

Babette weakly smiled at him, and he realized he was just standing there, dumb and frozen in place. "Hello," she breathed.

He swallowed, but his mouth had gone dry, and the lump that had formed a minute ago wouldn't budge. Where had she come from? Why was she here? To… seek favor from Their Majesties perhaps? If he really wasn't hallucinating, that is—which, in that case, where was her chaperone? Did she have one, or did she slip away from them? Either way, it wouldn't look good on him to be alone with her… right?

Yet all he could do was acknowledge her with a slight incline of his head.

Blush creeped into her cheeks as she pursed her lips and ducked her eyes, and already he was kicking himself.

But before he could utter a croak, she turned her now repentant gaze on him again. "I know I… am catching you by surprise. I promise I can explain everything if… we could talk?"

She clutched her hands more to her person, and he saw a letter was enclosed in them. A billion more questions should have been racing through his head, but shockingly, his mind had become more blank than it had been in weeks.

He cleared his throat this time. "Of course," he managed.

Lumière stepped around her rather cautiously as he went to open his door and became keenly aware of his heart beating in his ears. He pushed the door open and gestured her to proceed him inside.

He watched her take hesitant steps toward the center of the room, where the chaise stood, as he shut the door behind him. Her hands continued to fiddle with the parchment in her hands until she offered it to him, her expression resolute. "I think… it will make more sense if you read this first."

At his pause, she then added, "It is from Nicolas."

His quiet mind finally burst with questions once again. Why was she being a personal courier for his friend's message? What had happened between her and Nicolas? Should he be worried, concerned… excited?

He shoved that last thought away. Gently, he took the letter from her before indicating the chaise. "Please."

She murmured a thanks and very carefully sat down as if the cushions were made of glass. She then removed her gloves and began absently toying with them, her eyes searching for something else in the room to fixate on. Her back didn't seem to want to relax against the chaise either.

He had to tear his eyes from her before he began overanalyzing every little feature. Turning away, he popped the unbroken seal and began devouring his friend's elegant script.

Lumière, Mon Frère,

You may be in for quite the shock today but be assured. I promise I only bear glad tidings.

The truth—the entire truth—has been made clear to me, and mon Dieu, I am in awe. You have suffered excruciatingly in silence since you realized Babette was my betrothed. Yet you protected her true identity, even when I had suspicions and pressed you about your words and actions toward her.

I will admit: At first, I was angry with you both for hiding something so great from me all this time. But I could not stay upset for long. Not when you only did it for my happiness. And you put my felicity before yours. You would have let me marry the woman you love. For you to entrust me with her well-being and happiness, and to feel confident in my ability to care for her as you would… coming from you, that is the greatest honor I could possibly imagine.

Her father came to me to seek my council and support on her behalf. She and I had already mutually dissolved our betrothal and he sought reassurance that we were making the right decision. Without reservation, I confirmed that no man would ever cherish and protect his daughter more than you. I consider this only a small part of a larger debt to be paid, mon ami. At your request, I am prepared to do anything to ensure your and Babette's happiness, whatever that might entail that is within my power. I am now your most humble servant.

If you have not seen her yet, Babette should now be at the castle, and she plans to reside there permanently as an attendant to Her Majesty. This was the solution her and her father agreed upon. She chose a life of servitude over her title. She chose you.

You will need to know as well that she came to you without her mother's knowledge or blessing. The comtesse was not included, and so it was done with great secrecy. To accomplish this, to return to you, Babette may have very well cut all ties to her family. So please, listen to her, hear what she has to say, and forgive her. I would not have agreed to such an arrangement had I not been entirely certain she loved you as much as I believe you love her.

Now go to her and make amends. I better hear of a reconciliation soon!

With everlasting gratitude and warmth,

Nicolas

Lumière's hands trembled as he processed the words on the page. What had he just read? Babette's father had granted this? Nicolas had granted this? Babette… had wanted this?

Dazed, he faced Babette again and immediately met her eyes. It seemed she had been watching him with quiet trepidation.

His first instinct was to reassure her somehow, but he struggled to find what to say—how to even begin. He lifted the sheet in his hand. "I… have questions."

Her shoulders eased a touch, and a small smile appeared on her face. "Even I have not fully processed how I got here."

"How… did you get here? Nicolas says you… snuck out with his and your father's permission. But not your mother's?"

Her smile faded and she averted her eyes. "Non. She didn't know I was coming here. She… would not have approved."

His heart contracted. "Of… me?"

Babette looked up in alarm. "Non! Non, of anyone that wasn't like Nicolas," she assured, her brows furrowing. "Of me choosing anything over duty."

She scrunched the gloves she still held. "I… confessed to them—my parents… my feelings for you." Tendrils fell from her updo when she shook her head. "But it did not persuade her. Mon père did not think anything we said would change her mind, so… I am here without her knowing."

Lumière was so arrested by her words, so in awe by them, he hadn't moved a muscle. But then her gaze returned to him and he unfroze. "Forgive me, I… I am finding this all very difficult to..." He motioned his hands around his head, as if that would help spur his brain to comprehend everything.

He took a deep breath to brace himself. "Am I to understand… that you have forgone any claim to your inheritance and your title, and have been employed here as Her Majesty's maid?"

Her eyes unwavering, Babette answered, "Yes."

"But—" Lumière felt the blood drain from his face and he swept an feverish hand through his hair. He struggled to keep his throat open, but all he could muster came out as a whisper. "Why? Why did you give up… everything?"

Her expression hardened as she looked away. "I do not need any of those things. Wealth, a title… with everything I had to do to maintain those things, it felt like I was… selling my soul. Compromising… everything I am." She turned those enrapturing blue eyes of hers on him. "Everything I wanted."

He could hardly breathe, much less speak, even when she averted her eyes. Thoughtfully, she then asked, "Do you remember… Christmas Eve?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat. The word dropped from his mouth: "Vividly."

A twinkle appeared in her eye, but then she blinked and it was gone. "Do you remember what I told you about… how I felt? About being a noble?"

His mind was reeling from everything he was learning. He had been certain that despite the reservations Babette had been keeping months ago, that they had changed during her betrothal. He thought he had been the factor that had caused a rift in her potential happiness, but… it hadn't been him at all? What else had she concealed?

He hastily regathered the use of language again. "I did not realize… the thought still made you so unhappy."

She nodded. "I… had hoped that… with Nicolas by my side, it would be bearable." Shutting her eyes, she sighed. "It wasn't enough."

When she opened her eyes again, they looked alarmed, and she hurried to say, "I care about him, truly, and after what he has done for me, I think him one of the greatest men I have ever known. But… I do not love him… and I tried."

He was stunned; she was almost pleading with him, as though to apologize for not being able to fall in love with his best friend?

At his silence, she appeared persuaded to continue, "I wanted so badly to make my family happy. I wanted to fulfill their wishes, and I was preparing myself to go through with it but… seeing you again, I—" Her voice caught but she swallowed the lump down. "I just… became so angry. I thought I had… overcome everything I had felt. I wanted to be excited to see you again… as a friend, but… I felt betrayed by my own heart. I was so conflicted, wanting to love Nicolas but still loving you, believing I did love Nicolas like I loved you, but… it was hopeless."

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips, her voice was soft, and her gaze said it all. But then her expression shifted instantly. "And I took all of my frustration and anger at myself out on you, and for that, Lumière…"

Her aqua eyes were like great pools, and they began to overflow. "I am ashamed. I am so ashamed, and so sorry. I put you through such misery when it was my fault you were caught unawares. I was unrightfully stubborn and prideful, and I was content to hurt you over admitting that I was the problem."

Strong resolve filled his center. He dropped the letter onto the table and came to sit beside her in the blink of an eye, but not before he'd pulled out his handkerchief. The sight of him offering it to her seemed to bring about another wave, and she hid her face in her hands as a few sobs wracked her frame.

"Non, ma chérie, please do not hide," he soothed. He gently repossessed her hands and placed his handkerchief in them.

Her mouth open in awe, she tried to urge the cloth back into his hands. "Stop, please. I d—don't deserve your kindness. Y—You were right to be angry with me from the beginning. Why are you not s—still angry?"

His expression became pained. "It is a cruel judge that condemns a victim of circumstance, and I judged far too quickly. I should have trusted you."

"I never gave you reason to," she argued, her voice regaining strength. "I was spiteful when I had no right to be, and I purposely kept you in the dark when I realized Nicolas was your friend. Victim of circumstance or not, I have no excuses. None."

He took her face in his hands and began to wipe away the tears himself. "Babette, ma très chère, listen to me. There is nothing you can say or do at this moment or at any moment in the future that can make me angry with you about what's transpired again. I forgave you a long time ago—not even a week after I arrived in town." Her face now dry, he swept a loose lock behind her ear. "Did my letter not make that clear?"

"That letter…" she muttered, a terribly kissable pout forming on her lips, but she pulled away. "I've lost so much sleep over that letter, you… you wicked… wonderful man."

Tentative worry had turned into a wry smile, and he sincerely replied, "I am deeply sorry. You must have known that was not my intention."

Her tone was humorously bitter. "Of course, I did. It was horribly romantic and…" Her brows furrowed. "Dieu, it cannot be this simple."

Suffering a bit of whiplash, he blinked at her amazed expression. "What can't?"

"You… you cannot accept me back so easily! I have caused you so much pain…" Her hand reached up toward his face, but she hesitated. He didn't, however, hesitate to take it and bring it to his lips, reveling in the softness of her skin… just as he remembered.

She tried to pull her hand away, but his grasp tightened. "My pain has stemmed from believing I was never going to be able to express the depth of my love for you without impeding on vows you made to another. I… still cannot believe you're here," he breathed, brushing away another of her stray tears.

He then saw the struggle that brewed behind her eyes, but it didn't abate the sting of what followed.

"Non," she declared with such adamance, it made his heart ache, and she stood up and put distance between them. "You can't have forgiven me, I—" A sob interrupted her. "I don't believe it. Not after everything I made you do, and you just did it all without question! You could have given me away thousands of times over, but you never tried to more than… once? Maybe twice? And rightfully so! I cannot believe I was so conceited as to just expect it from you. What was wrong with me? I was impertinent and arrogant and—"

"Babette," he urged, flying to where she stood and taking her shoulders in a firm but assuring grip. "I have forgiven you, and—non, you will let me tell you why," he immediately hushed as she attempted to protest.

When she pursed her lips closed, he sighed. "I have forgiven you because there was no way to have expected you to navigate well in such circumstances, and you should not expect that of yourself either. I was a part of your past, one you had safely stowed away so it did not hinder you from your future, and then suddenly, I was there, bringing all the pain and heartbreak of Christmas with me again. Your worlds collided. How else were you supposed to react?"

She again tried to reply, but he persisted gently yet fairly, "Recognize that you were in an impossible situation, and accept what happened. But in all fairness…" A smile grew on his face as he reclaimed her hands. "I am far more willing to accept it all now than ever before."

She anxiously nibbled on her bottom lip. "I… I can't. There is just this… guilt." Her fingers grasped his tightly… beseechingly.

"There is no need for that anymore," he soothed. He dared to step closer. "If I have forgiven you… then now you must forgive yourself."

Weakly shaking her head, she murmured, "I don't know how."

He searched her face. "Have you forgiven me?"

"Of course, I have!" she practically scoffed, which almost made him laugh. "Whatever happened in the beginning… you made up for it a hundredfold. Do you realize that?"

His grin broadened. "Now I do." He brought one of her hands to rest over his palpitating heart. "But think about it, chérie: How could I stay upset with you, after all that you have gone through and done… to be here?"

His finger traced her chin. He couldn't stop trying to take in every detail. "You were not even sure if I would forgive you, yet… you took the chance. After all of that… do we really need to torture ourselves, too?"

A hint of a smile appeared on her lush lips, and her gaze became hopeful.

With a shaky breath, he went on to say, despite the trembling that arose, "Now… correct me if I am wrong, but… Nicolas mentioned you had more than one reason for… relinquishing your title."

She bit her lip to hide her smile. "Mm-hmm…"

"It was… the sense of belonging you had when you were here last," he stated as if it were obvious. "Angélique, Mrs. Potts…" He quirked a skeptical yet curious brow. "Cogsworth?"

An airy giggle rang from her, and it warmed his insides. But then she took a tantalizing step closer. "And…"

He tried to speak, but his voice had given out once again. Conversely, her smile only grew. She slowly brought him close and tucked her head against his neck… in an embrace.

A breath he didn't know he was holding flowed out. He wrapped his arms about her, too, and leaned his cheek against her hair. The smell of her brought him immediately back to that time they'd shared on Christmas Day, the very last time he had thought he was ever going to be able to hold her like this, yet… here they were.

Her voice tickled his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "You're forgetting someone."

He drew away only enough to look her in the eye. "Remind me."

Her stare flickered to his lips, and Lumière thought his heart was going to burst from his chest. She hesitated for what seemed like an eternity, but even if it really wasn't, he was boundlessly patient… Only for her, could he be.

He didn't move as she leaned closer. It was a mere graze, like a feather.

That was all it took.

He pressed closer, and then he was suddenly able to truly feel the pillowed softness of her lips against his.

It was as if a dam had broken loose, and the tides were far beyond his control; the tenderness evolved to a fiery passion he couldn't possibly tame. His lack of restraint occurred to him seconds later, but when he thought to give pause, Babette seemed intent to insist they shouldn't cease nor subside.

A bliss unlike anything he recognized bloomed in his chest. His mouth had been unequivocally captured by her. An ecstatic moan hummed against their hurried kisses, one after the other. "Oh, ma belle… ma chérie… mon trésor—"

"I've missed you," she sighed. "So… so much."

She pressed her forehead to his, pausing only to allow both of them to catch their breath, for which he was thankful. His mouth was starting to go dry again, so he decided there was no other time like the present.

"There…" He stole a couple more kisses. "There is something… I need to tell you—"

"Je t'aime."

Lumière opened his eyes in quiet shock, but the light in her eyes was brilliant, and so full of... Could he believe that it was— "Did you…?"

She beamed up at him, caressing his face in her hands, and nodded. "I love you." Her eyes were beginning to well, but with very different tears than before. "I do! I have… I always have."

He held her palm where it was and peppered it with a multitude of kisses. "Mon amour… you took my heart with you those months ago… and I have never recovered. Not until this very moment."

He cradled her head and bowed to meet her lips once more. "I love you… I adore you… and with you… I am whole again."

Babette clung to him with the fervor he had fallen in love with, and he reveled in it. He knew it was only the afternoon, that he had dinner to attend to. He also knew Babette had to unpack and settle back into her quarters here, not to mention greet everyone and inform them of her return and permanent position.

But there was time for that. The time they had now was the time they had lost and were finally, at last, making up.

A nagging thought in the back of his mind gave him pause, but Babette simply drifted her attentions to other places. As she made a trail with her mouth along his jaw and down his neck, all while he failed to suppress a shudder, he had to voice, "J—Just so I perfectly understand…"

She glanced up at him, a brow raised and laughter in her smile. "Yes?" she teasingly drawled. Her hands skated the smooth fabric of his vest as they wrapped about him, and he had to clear his throat before he attempted to speak again.

"Allow me the clarification, s'il te pla?t," he requested with all politeness. "So… you are no longer engaged to Nicolas, oui?"

"That is correct."

"You were given permission to be here… by your father at least?"

A bit more soberly, she corrected, "More than permission."

"Accommodations, you mean?"

"Only if I work for them."

"And you will be working under…"

"The Queen," they both concluded.

"Oh Dieu, it still seems an impossible thing," he uttered, and his hold on her tightened.

She eyed him curiously, a teasing lilt in her voice. "Are you questioning if I am real?"

"Will you criticize me if I am?"

Babette laughed with him. "If I did, I would be a hypocrite! But…" Her hands slid down his back and up his chest to his face. "You still feel like you." She had him tilt his head so she could assess his profile. "And look like you… as marvelously handsome as always." She snatched a few kisses from him. "Mm, and still quite delicious."

She rested her arms around his shoulders. "If you are not you, then this is an impressive bit of sorcery."

"If this is sorcery…" His fingers played with the hair at the nape of her neck. "Please… by all that is holy, do not… wake me up."

Giggling against his mouth, she replied, "Oui oui, mon capitaine…"

To be continued...


AT LAST! After 5 years, it is COMPLETE, Y'ALL! Huzzah!

In the course of writing this, I graduated with a Bachelor of Music, changed jobs three times, moved out on my own, and became a professional musician... I guess I can cut myself some slack about not finishing this fic sooner, right?

Thank you to all who have supported me and this story for all that time! I'd especially like to thank phoenixsoul13, GreenArcher, and LovelyLadyAllie for being my go-to editors and giving me such incredible and helpful feedback and support. I'd also like to thank LumBabsFan and iantheharrup, along with the amazing group of people on Bittersweet & Strange, for their avid encouragement. When I would ask who I was publishing for, you all reminded me that my work is appreciated, and that means the world to me. Thank you so, so much!

Hilariously, I actually have... two more books planned? Alongside a one-shot and a short story that happens prior to the third. I mean, I don't plan on going anywhere, so eventually, I WILL get them published. But I am indebted to those who stick around long enough to read them, for sure!

In the meantime, I got some quick projects I've had on the back burner for the past 5 years that I would love to get written, so you'll be seeing me around soon!

Adieu for now!

~ CarolNJoy