As Edith walked away without turning back, Inès watched her go. She had the strange sensation that she had fallen off a ship and her best friend had just walked away with the only life preserver.

? ? ?

Three hours later, the dinner service was in full swing, the brasserie was crowded with Germans, and Edith had vanished into the crowd, leaving Inès alone. She had been installed at the bar since Edith had dismissed her that afternoon, and the bartender had steadily refilled her glass, his expression gradually changing from one of disengaged politeness to one of pity as the room around her grew blurrier and blurrier. By the time a clean-shaven man with slick silver hair and a perfectly tailored gray suit sat down beside her and said bonsoir, the world was fuzzy, and Inès was finally at ease.

“And what is a beautiful woman like you doing out alone on a night like this?” the man asked, gesturing for the bartender. He ordered her a glass of champagne without waiting for her answer and then turned his gray eyes back to her. “Surely there is a gentleman somewhere wondering where you are.”

Inès flushed at the compliment. “Yes, well, my husband is too busy thinking about business and war,” she muttered before she could stop herself. “He probably hasn’t even noticed that I’m gone.”

“I would notice,” the man said, lowering his voice until it was almost a purr. “I would feel your absence deeply, were I the one you had chosen.”

That got her attention, the idea that she had chosen anything at all. She felt so constrained by the decisions she had already made that she had lost any sense of control over her own life. It made her feel like nothing, but looking into the eyes of the man at the bar, she felt something she’d almost forgotten. This man clearly found her attractive, and with that realization, she regained something she thought had been lost.

She didn’t say anything, for she had nearly forgotten how to flirt, and besides, that wasn’t what she had come here for. Her champagne arrived then, little bubbles racing to the surface, and the man raised his glass. “To you,” he said, watching her closely.

“And you.” She took a small taste. It was surprisingly refreshing to have a glass of champagne that hadn’t been made by her husband, to enjoy it without sitting across from someone who was analyzing every sip.

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” the man said. “My name is Antoine. Antoine Picard.”

Inès let him take her hand. “Inès Chauveau.”

“Chauveau, as in the Maison Chauveau?”

“It is owned by my husband.”

“Ah. Well, it is a pleasure.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it softly. “A true pleasure, madame. But it is a shame for me that you are someone else’s wife, I think.”

“And perhaps it is a shame for me that I have a husband who doesn’t seem to care whether he has a wife at all.” When Inès saw something spark in the older man’s eyes, she knew she had crossed a line. She could have taken it back, forced a laugh, softened the words by adding something about how Michel was just busy, but she held her tongue and watched as the man’s gaze locked on hers.

“Your husband does not sound like a very wise man,” Antoine said, watching her carefully.

“He is very educated,” Inès said. “Far more than I.”

“It sounds as if he has reminded you of this more than once. He does not put much stock in your opinion?”

“Well . . . yes.” Inès blinked. How did the man know? “He treats me as if I’m a child.”

“Well, that is a mistake,” Antoine said, leaning in closer. “Because it’s clear to me that you are very much a woman.”

Inès saw Edith across the room watching her, and she turned away before she could be branded by her friend’s judgment. If Edith didn’t trust Inès to be a part of her world, why should Inès care what she thought? Still, Inès could see the scene through Edith’s eyes, and she knew it looked damning. Antoine Picard was nearly old enough to be Inès’s father, and yet it was quite clear from the way he had moved in possessively that his intentions were anything but paternal, even after she had mentioned her marriage. Especially after she had mentioned her marriage. She knew she should be careful.

“I should go,” Inès said reluctantly.

“Stay a little longer,” Antoine said, angling his body closer to hers. She could smell his cologne, musky and powerful. “Finish your champagne, at least. Perhaps you’ll tell me a bit about yourself.”

“Oh, well, I’m not very interesting.”

He leaned in. “I doubt that very much.”

And so, after a bit of encouragement, Inès had found herself unspooling the tale of her life, from Lille to Michel, and listening intently as Antoine explained that he had worked for the regional government for years but had taken on a new role now that the Germans were in power. “It is important to get along, so that everything goes as smoothly as possible,” he’d said, lowering his voice. “Of course I’m still one hundred percent on the side of France, but the Germans are here for now, aren’t they? It’s in everyone’s best interest to work with them, I think.”

“That’s just what I’ve been telling my husband!” Inès blurted out.