ACCORD

"Solomon, so glad you could join us this evening." Lady Esme swooped down the stairs towards the new arrival, barely missing a servant who
backpedalled just in time to save his tray of champagne glasses.

"My Lady." Solomon brushed a kiss against the back of the bright-eyed woman's hand, taking care to avoid the array of jeweled rings that circled her thick fingers. "It was most kind of you to invite us." Solomon straightened, releasing her hand and taking a half-step back to reveal his companion. "I believe you know Florian du Rochefort?"

"Du Rochefort?" The Lady's eyes narrowed for a moment and her genuine smile thinned into a tight-lipped curve. "Such a tragedy - to lose your mother and your home in a fire like that." Her eyes assessed him, taking in every detail of the young man's thin frame in its slightly-too-large finery. When he averted his gaze, her smile changed again, transforming into something with a hint of calculation before smoothing into bland pleasantness. "We're happy to have the boy here, Solomon. If you're sure it's not too soon. You know how people talk, after all. You're looking after him, I suppose?"

"We're looking after each other." Solomon corrected with a hint of warning in his tone. "Florian's help has been invaluable between setting up the new house and managing my obligations. I don't know what I would do without him. It frees my time to attend events such as this soiree. Where else might I meet suitable ladies?" Solomon narrowed his eyes at her as he finished speaking. He knew too well the kinds of rumors that would need to be guarded against now that he'd brought Florian out in public, but the young man couldn't remain in seclusion for the rest of his life, and neither could he.

The arrival of new guests allowed Solomon and Florian to escape Lady Esme's attentions. They followed the noise towards the buffet, catching a glimpse of couples dancing in the ballroom beyond.

"You must eat something," Solomon reminded Florian in an undertone, pushing aside the irony of their situation. Here he was, newly rich by virtue of a dying man's whim, guiding one of the noblest aristocrats in all of France, who was also one of the poorest. At home, it was Florian who instructed Solomon in proper greetings and acceptable behavior at parties.

Solomon put a few of the plainer items from the overloaded buffet onto a plate and handed it to Florian. The young man accepted with a nod of thanks and waited at Solomon's side as he filled his own plate. There were greetings to be exchanged and small talk to navigate before they could retreat to a fairly quiet corner and eat in peace. Even there, they were both aware of the eyes watching and tongues wagging.

"We'll have to dance a few times, just to be seen. After that, we'll leave. I promise." Solomon passed their empty plates off to a servant and took a quick look around, weighing the prospects for finding dance partners who wouldn't annoy him or make him feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. He was ready to move forward towards what he hoped were a pair of likely prospects when Florian stopped him.

"Katerina is here, and a few... friends." Solomon hated the way that Florian hesitated over the word, but knew that he had good reason. They'd had unpleasant encounters with more than one of the young man's former friends since Solomon had taken Florian into his home.

"Go visit. I shouldn't be able to do too much damage on the dancefloor." They both laughed at that, all too aware of how many hours Florian had spent teaching Solomon the latest dance steps.

"Wait for a waltz, and don't let her lead," Florian teased before moving off towards his friends. Solomon forced himself to turn away, beginning the task of finding a dance partner.

Florian was there first, with Katerina in his arms, moving her effortlessly across the floor. It was the first time Solomon had seen him dance like this, and he was pleased to see that Florian appeared to be enjoying himself. Now if only Solomon could make it through the piece without trodding on his chosen partner's foot, then the evening could be called a success.

"Spoke too soon," he muttered to himself a mere five minutes later when his dance was cut short by another man cutting in. Backing away a bit awkwardly, Solomon saw that Florian had already retreated from the dancefloor. He was working his way through the dancers to rejoin Florian when a commotion at the doorway drew his attention.

The new arrival was tall and tanned with piercing green eyes. That alone would have been enough for him to command the attention of everyone in the room. He was made even more remarkable by his garb – richly embroidered Arabian robes complete with a curved dagger in a jeweled sheath tucked into his belt. He scanned the room and everyone in it with casual disdain, until his eyes met something of interest.

Solomon watched, as fascinated as those around him, as the man strode across the room, barely acknowledging those who tried to gain his attention. It was only when he stopped in front of Florian and placed a hand on the young man’s face that Solomon was able to move.

Ignoring the murmurs of the people around him, Solomon hurried towards Florian, arriving at his side in time to hear the new arrival say, "...was traveling and only just received your mother's letter."

"Forgive me, sir, I've not yet made your acquaintance." Solomon interrupted the conversation, not liking the fact that the man was still touching Florian so casually, or the way that Florian had gone pale.

Florian used the interruption to take a step back, moving away from the man’s touch. He became aware of the whispers around them and the way that everyone was watching. He flushed pink with embarrassment and his eyes flashed with anger; wasn't he the subject of enough ridicule without this person making it worse?

"I had a letter from Madame du Rochefort, asking for my help." The man who had introduced himself as Count Ray Balzac Courland was telling Solomon. "Unfortunately I was traveling and only arrived in Paris today. It was a shock to realize I'd come too late to help the lady herself but, fortunately, not too late to assist my dear cousin."

"Do you know this man, Florian?" Solomon asked carefully, unhappy about having this conversation in such a public venue.

"I've never met him, but my mother had mentioned a Count Courland who was a distant cousin."

"Then perhaps we should return home and continue this discussion in private," Solomon said to the two of them before speaking directly to the Count. "Would you do us the honor of joining us at my home for refreshments?"

"I would be honored," the Count replied, reaching out to grasp Florian's wrist. "I'm sure my cousin will be glad to accompany me so that I don't get lost along the way."

Solomon almost laughed at that – clearly this man didn’t know his cousin very well – Florian could get lost in his own backyard. Still, he couldn't very well refuse the request, no matter how much Florian scowled and pulled away from his cousin's touch.

"Shall we take our leave of our hostess then?" Solomon asked, fully aware of the avid interest of the people around them. He walked away from the Count calmly, heading straight for Lady Esme, who had been watching from the doorway.

"Forgive us, my lady. It seems that Florian has been reunited with his cousin, the Count. They have some family matters to discuss. It's a shame to leave your lovely party, but these things must take precedence." He nodded to the servant who had gone to fetch coats and hats for Solomon and Florian.

Florian thanked his hostess, his manner smooth and polite and expression carefully pleasant. Only his eyes betrayed his irritation at the presence of this new and demanding person at his side. The Count made his apologies as well and the three men departed as quickly as decorum allowed.

They exchanged pleasantries while they waited for their vehicles to be brought around, and were all quite glad to see Solomon's carriage. He ascended into the vehicle and departed as Ray’s car was brought around. At first Florian mistook the driver for a young man, but quickly realized it was a slender woman wearing trousers and a short coat.

"Solomon Sugar’s residence, Laila. Florian knows the way in case you get lost." The Count glanced over his shoulder at the man in the backseat. He wore a bland smile, but his exotic amethyst eyes gave away his real feelings – he was angry and confused. Good, Ray thought, just the way I want him.

Fortunately, Laila was able to find Solomon's house without Florian's help as the young man hadn’t been paying attention on the drive. Instead, he was thinking furiously, trying to remember everything his mother had told him about his distant relative.

He knew the man had lived in Morocco and that he was something of a black sheep due not only to his parentage, but also his business as a usurer. The man was supposed to be smart but he also had a reputation for being ruthless. Why had Florian's mother turned to him for help?

"Care to join us?" Ray asked, drawing Florian's attention back to the present. Laila had parked just in front of Solomon's house and Ray was waiting at the side of the car, his hand out as if to assist a lady. Florian brushed it aside and climbed out of the car, glancing back towards Laila. Surely it was too cold for a woman to sit outside in an open vehicle.

"She'll be fine," Ray assured him, smirking at Florian's startled expression. Florian schooled his features back into that bland smile and set a fast pace up the stairs and into the house. He handed off his coat and hat to a servant, and barely waited for Ray to do the same before heading off to join Solomon in the living room.

There was a tea cart near the sofa and Florian poured one for Solomon before offering one to Ray. The Count accepted with an amused smile that irritated Florian even more. He fixed one for himself and settled into the farthest end of the sofa.

"I prefer not to waste my time with pleasantries when there is business to be done," Ray started, reaching into his robes and removing a letter. He handed it to Solomon. "I understand you took Florian in after the fire that destroyed his home and killed his mother. You have my thanks for that but," he gestured towards the letter than Solomon was reading, "you can see that other arrangements had already been made for his care."

"I'm not a child who needs a guardian!" Florian couldn’t hold back his anger anymore. He'd been treated like a child by too many people recently. Only Solomon seemed able to see that he was an adult and deserved to be treated as one.

"Yet you are penniless and have no home. Your only holdings are a title, Duke Florian du Rochefort. How do you plan to feed and shelter yourself?"

"Florian has more than earned his place here, Count. His assistance is invaluable as is his companionship.” Solomon handed the letter to Florian as if he was handing the man a death notice. This would change everything and there appeared to be nothing Solomon could do to prevent it.

"My mother would never..." Florian trailed off as he continued to scan the letter written in his mother’s familiar tight script. "She would have told me!" He handed the letter back, just resisting the urge to throw it. "I know we were in debt, but to sell you the house and its contents and..."

"I offered to buy the famous 120 carat diamond instead," Ray said casually, taking a sip of his tea. His eyes never left Florian's – those amethyst eyes fascinated him. The money he'd given Florian's mother had been worth every penny as an exchange for this rare set of jewels.

"The diamond is a legend," Florian said bitterly. "It was sold years ago and the money squandered. Why else would my mother have done that?" He
gestured towards the letter, but Ray and Solomon knew he wasn't referring to the sale price for the house and contents. It was the second half of the letter that made Florian so angry – the part where Madame du Rochefort had included her only son in the sale – agreeing to Ray’s demand that she entrust Florian to Ray's care.

"What are your intentions?" Solomon asked, his mind working furiously, looking for a way to save Florian. Even the fortune he had received at the bequest of an eccentric old aristocrat wouldn’t be enough to buy Florian out of his debt.

"The house and contents are gone, there was nothing salvageable after the fire. I paid Madame du Rochefort a large sum of money and in exchange I received a piece of empty property and an ungrateful boy." Ray ignored Florian's angry cry. "I traveled all the way from Morocco and don't even have a home to stay in."

"Then allow me to extend an invitation to this home, Count Courland. You and your attendants may stay as long as you would like. It will give us the opportunity to get to know one another better." Solomon turned to Florian and gave him a meaningful look. "Isn't that right, Florian?"

The man nodded, a bit sullenly and the smile he wore was pasted on.

"It's settled then," Solomon said, standing up. "You have a hotel room for the night?" Ray nodded and Solomon continued. "Then we will expect you tomorrow afternoon. We will welcome you properly at dinner tomorrow evening."

"You are very kind." Ray stood, shaking the hand that Solomon offered. He nodded to Florian, just managing to hide his amusement at Florian's ill-concealed displeasure. This was even better than he'd planned. Tomorrow would be interesting indeed.

Back in his car, with Solomon's house behind them, Ray turned to Laila and grinned. "What do you think of your new address?" he asked.

"There? You mean we're going to be living with Solomon Sugar, famous ex-police detective and newly titled aristocrat?" Laila was laughing so hard Ray had to grab the steering wheel.

"Where better for the phantom thief Noir to call his temporary home?" Ray asked, settling back now that Laila was paying attention to the road again. "And Noir's first acquisition is going to be a rare set of amethysts from Solomon's own house."

::end::
 

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