I whirled around to face the Archbishop.

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

“So is adultery.”

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

It was empty.

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

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

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

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

He’s the one breaking trust.

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

My stomach dropped to somewhere below my ankles.

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

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

“Célie,” he said softly.

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

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

My chest constricted at the emotion in his voice. At the pain.

“I always wanted you,” she said fiercely. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was angry, heartbroken, and I just—I needed time. I wanted to be selfless for her. For Pip.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and I saw her face clearly for the first time. She had lovely high cheekbones, with wide, doe-like eyes and full lips. “But I don’t care anymore, Reid. I don’t care if it’s selfish. I want to be with you.”

Surely there is nothing more beautiful in all the world than your smile—except, of course, your eyes. Or your laugh. Or your lips.

I watched her press those lips to Reid’s cheek and felt sick. Suddenly, I didn’t find their love letters funny anymore.

He pulled away before she could move to his mouth. “Célie, don’t. Please. Don’t make this any harder.”

She paused, lower lip trembling. Her next words were a direct blow to my chest. “I love you, Reid.” She clung to him, pleading. “I’m so sorry I pushed you away, but we can still be together. We can fix this. You haven’t consummated the marriage. Speak to the Archbishop, ask for an annulment. He’ll send that whore to prison where she belongs, and—”

“She isn’t a whore.”

I leaned forward as Célie pulled back, frowning at something she saw in his face. “She was a thief, Reid, and she framed you. She—she doesn’t deserve you.”

Reid gently disentangled himself from her arms. “Célie, this can’t continue.” His voice was low, resigned. “Whether or not you like her, I made a vow. I will honor it.”

“Do you like her?” Célie demanded, eyes narrowing.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me!”

And me.

“What do you want me to say, Célie? She’s my wife. Of course I like her.”

Célie rocked back as if he’d slapped her. “What’s happened to you, Reid?”

“Nothing—”

“The Reid I know would abhor that woman. She is everything you stand against—”

“You don’t know her.”

“I obviously don’t know you either!”

“Célie, please—”

“Do you love her?”

I held my breath, fingers biting into the doorjamb. There was a heavy pause. Then—

“No.” He exhaled heavily, looking down. “But I think—I think maybe I could—”

“But you said you loved me.” She backed away slowly, eyes wide with shock and hurt. Tears slid down her cheeks. “You asked to marry me! Me—not her!”

“I— Célie, I did. But Lou . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “I won’t hurt her.”

“You won’t hurt her?” She cried in earnest now, patches of color rising to her pale cheeks. “What about me, Reid? We’ve known each other since we were children!” Her tears soaked her bodice, ruining the black silk. “What about Pip? What about your oath?”

Reid’s hands hung limp at his sides. “I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”

“I’m sorry too, Reid,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry I ever met you.”

I inched away from the door, numbness creeping down my limbs. I shouldn’t have been here. This moment hadn’t been meant for my eyes.

Back in the ballroom, I stood apart from the crowd, my mind still reeling.

Reid had loved her.

I shook my head, disgusted with myself. Of course he had. He’d said as much in his stupid journal—which I never should’ve read—and even if he hadn’t, he was a young, attractive man. He would’ve had his choice amongst any number of women if he hadn’t devoted his life to the Chasseurs. The thought rankled more than it should’ve. As did the thought of Célie’s lips—of anyone’s lips—pressed to his cheek.

Célie reemerged several moments later, wiping her face as inconspicuously as possible. She ducked her head before anyone could question her, heading straight for the antechamber. I swallowed the lump in my throat as Reid too reappeared. Watching as he searched for me, I debated following Célie.