The carriage wheels had barely disappeared around the corner when Albert burst into laughter, forced and painfully obvious.
"Well?" he said, turning to the Count. "How did I do? Did I play my part well enough?"
"What part?" Monte Cristo asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Come on, you know what I mean. Watching my rival move in on Danglars’ daughter."
"Your rival?" The Count’s tone was innocent. "You mean Andrea Cavalcanti? I wouldn’t call him my protégé, at least not when it comes to the Danglars family."
Albert snorted. "You should be helping him if he actually needed it. But lucky for me, he seems to be doing just fine on his own."
"Wait, you think he’s seriously pursuing her?"
"I know he is. The way he looks at Eugénie Danglars, the way his voice softens when he talks to her, it’s obvious. He wants to marry her."
Monte Cristo shrugged. "So what? As long as they still favor you, what does it matter?"
"That’s the problem, they don’t!" Albert’s voice cracked with frustration. "I’m being rejected left and right. Eugénie barely acknowledges my existence, and her friend d’Armilly won’t even speak to me."
"But her father thinks highly of you," the Count pointed out.
"Her father?" Albert laughed bitterly. "He’s been stabbing me in the heart with a thousand daggers. Sure, they’re theatrical daggers that fold back into their handles, but he believes they’re real enough to kill."
"Jealousy usually means affection."
"Maybe, but I’m not jealous." Fresh chapters posted on NoveI(F)ire.net
"Of Debray?" Albert frowned.
Albert’s eyes widened. "Me? Give it a week, I bet he’ll ban me from his house entirely."
"You’re wrong about that."
Monte Cristo leaned back. "The baron asked me to convince your father to formalize an engagement arrangement."
"He what?" Albert stared at him. "You’re not actually going to do that, are you?"
"Of course I am. I promised."
Albert sighed heavily. "So you’re determined to marry me off, then."
"I’m determined to keep good relationships with everyone," Monte Cristo corrected. "But speaking of Debray, why haven’t I seen him at the baron’s house lately?"
"There was a... misunderstanding."
"No, with the baron."
"Does he suspect something?"
"That’s hilarious," Albert said with a knowing grin.
Monte Cristo tilted his head, his expression perfectly innocent. "Wait, does he actually know?"
"Where have you been living, Count? The Congo?"
"Maybe somewhere even farther."
"You really don’t understand Parisian society, do you? Husbands are the same everywhere, they’re all cut from the same cloth."
"But what caused the fight between Danglars and Debray?" the Count pressed. "They seemed to get along so well."
"Now you’re asking me to reveal secrets I don’t even know. Once Andrea Cavalcanti becomes part of the family, you can ask him." The carriage rolled to a stop. "We’re here. It’s only half-past ten, want to come in?"
"My driver can take you home afterward."
"No need, I had my own carriage ."
"There it is, then," Monte Cristo said as they stepped out.
Inside, the drawing room glowed with warm light. "Baptistin, prepare tea for us," the Count ordered.
The servant vanished without a word. Within seconds, he returned carrying a tray with everything they needed, as if it had materialized from thin air.
"You know what I admire most about you?" Albert said, settling into a chair. "It’s not your wealth, plenty of people are rich. It’s not even your intelligence. It’s how perfectly your servants anticipate your needs. You ring once, and they already know exactly what you want."
"It’s simpler than you think. They just know my habits. For example, what would you like to do while we have tea?"
"Honestly? I’d love to smoke."
Monte Cristo struck a gong once. A hidden door opened immediately, and a servant named Ali appeared carrying two ornate pipes filled with premium tobacco.
"That’s incredible," Albert breathed.
"It’s actually quite logical," the Count explained. "Ali knows I usually smoke with my tea or coffee. He heard me order tea, and he knows I brought you home. When I called him, he understood why, and since he comes from a culture where hospitality means sharing smoke, he naturally brought two pipes instead of one. Mystery solved."
"You make it sound so ordinary, but wait, what’s that?" Albert turned toward the door. The faint sound of stringed music drifted through.
"Ah, you’re destined for music tonight," Monte Cristo said with a slight smile. "You escaped Eugénie’s piano only to encounter Haydée’s traditional instrument."
"Haydée?" Albert’s interest sparked. "That’s a beautiful name. Are there really women with that name outside of poetry?"
"Of course. It’s uncommon in France but common in Albania and Greece. It means something like ’Purity’ or ’Innocence’, like a virtue name."
"That’s charming! Imagine if Eugénie Danglars had been named Miss Chastity-Modesty-Innocence instead. Can you picture the wedding announcement?"
"Quiet," the Count said sharply. "Haydée might hear you."
"Would she be offended?"
"No." His tone was cold. "But it’s not about that."
"She must be very sweet-tempered, then."
"It’s not about temperament, it’s about duty. A slave doesn’t question her master."
Albert laughed. "You’re joking now. Slaves? Really?"
"I assure you, I’m not."
"The Count of Monte Cristo has a slave? That’s practically a title of its own! And considering how freely you spend money, I bet it’s worth a fortune just to work for you."
"She was born to far greater wealth than that," the Count said quietly. "She possessed treasures that would make fairy tales look modest."
"So she’s a princess?"
"She was. One of the greatest in her homeland."
"Then how did she become a slave?"
"Fortune and war, my friend. That’s how these things happen."
"Is her name a secret?"
"From most people, yes. But I trust you to keep it confidential, can I?"
"Do you know about the Pasha of Yanina?"
"Ali Tepelini? Of course, my father made his fortune serving him."
"I’d forgotten that detail."
"So what’s Haydée’s connection to him?"
"She’s his daughter."
Albert’s jaw dropped. "Ali Pasha’s daughter? And she’s your... slave?"
"How did that happen?"
"I bought her one day while passing through a market in Constantinople."
"This is unreal," Albert murmured. "When I’m with you, reality feels like a dream. Listen, I might be overstepping here, but-"
"Since you sometimes go out with Haydée, even to the opera, could you introduce me to her?"
"I will. On two conditions."
"First, you never tell anyone I arranged this meeting."
Albert extended his hand. "You have my word."
"Second, you never mention that your father served hers."
"Good. I know you’re a man of honor." The Count struck the gong again. When Ali appeared, he said, "Tell Haydée I’ll join her for coffee, and that I’d like to present a friend to her."