"The shortness of his breath is brought from the quick tapping of his feet and not by the gentle tendrils of her hair that escaped from the lively dance, brushing against the curve of her neck and begging for a lover's touch. And his heart beats as...
at the touch of love everyone becomes a poet. --Plato
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By dinner, Philippe felt like an entirely new man. The nap he took did wonders for his mood, though he likely would've slept through the night if he was given a chance.
Fortunately for his stomach, but unfortunately to his still throbbing head, dinner is due soon. The young lord takes the time to freshen up and don more appropriate attire, recalling quite plainly this morning's threat. He would be on his best behavior... to a certain point.
A servant comes shortly to fetch him to the table and he arrives around the same time as everyone else, able to keep his skull fastened to his spine in a more civilized way. "Bonsoir," he greets cheerily to all in attendance, sounding much more similar to his father than he would ever acknowledge as he bows appropriately to all.
He helps Gisele to her seat, a picture of a gentleman, setting a figurative rug in place for now to pull from under her when he sees fit, making her stumble into another man's arms and freeing him from an impending marriage. Silently to himself, he wonders if, perhaps, the negotiations, as the brother pointed out, has gone sour and the engagement has not solidified after all.
Gisele was rather pleasantly surprised by the upbeat demeanor of her suitor now, thanking him politely as she sat. Perhaps her suitor had simply been weary from the journey- and an afternoon of rest had replenished his spirits? Either way, she couldn't say she minded the change. Moving her head to the side slightly to allow the maid to pour her a glass of wine, she sipped it readily, touching her father's hand beside her to catch his attention and lowering her voice. "Do you have anything important to tell me?"
He simply laughed and raised a finger as if bidding her to wait. Then, he called the table to attention, allowing Charlotte to lead them in a small prayer and reclaimed their attention yet again. "Baptiste and I discussed everything this afternoon. We negotiated and argued like old wives; but we finally reached an agreement. We are incredibly and deeply excited to announce the engagement of our lovely Gisele to his son, Philippe!"
Gisele paled. This was much worse than she'd thought. Maybe a discussion of courtship, or an alliance, but a full betrothal? She was so near starstruck, Alastair had to kick her beneath the table to remind her to smile, flush, and look to her lap like a lady.
Her mother and sister in law began to discuss excitedly the wedding dress, and the ceremony, with Marius chiming in that he thought they were well-matched.
Gisele didn't feel the same, and had suddenly lost her appetite.
Disappointment. A sentiment Philippe knew all too well. He shrugs his shoulders in a barely noticeable motion, not quite as shocked as his newly confirmed intended, who is rather frozen with the revelation of a marriage arranged by their fathers.
