Lord Fili Brousseau, Montaigne's ambassador to Castille: powdered, perfumed, permanently smiling, and far more dangerous than any of those qualities suggest. At the ball he drifted to Yvette and asked, sweetly, where is King Sandoval? It was a question aimed too well to be gossip and too sweetly to be anything else.
Adventure makes hangovers twice as worse. I do not recommend it.
He knows the who's-who of every room and trades in it. He nicknamed the entire company within an evening (the homeless noble; the pirate who smells like perfume) and eventually collected the thing he had been circling: Yvette, persuaded home to Montaigne to change it from the inside out. What he murmured to her at the carriage, the coachman would not repeat for less than a second bottle.
He waited behind her that morning, hands folded, watching everything. Always smiling. Nobody has yet learned what the smile costs.