Had she considered for a moment that the man before her was anything like a that to her, Constance might have questioned the wisdom of her husband's decision to leave her at home alone in the company of the Musketeer. As unlikely as it was that Bonacieux could have done anything in a worst case scenario but splutter on protest, it would be a point of memory that would leave her mulling over what sort of man her was at a future date, but was more of a relief than anything else.
She did not need to have been told of her husband's low opinion of the King's Musketeers (not that he would have ever said so aloud in the presence of one, too aware of their status). Neither did she need him in attendance looking down his nose at the Musketeer who sat at her table who wore a raggedness about him in both the state of his uniform's seams and the trim off his beard.
"It's alright," she told him, her concern for him before absolving much of the need of his thanks. Not that such gratitude fell upon deaf ears, as she was too starved for such recognition to not tuck them away for later review. Constance could practically hear her husband's haughty insistence that, yes, this Athos had imposed on their respectable home. Her fingers twisted a napkin she had picked up as she told him, "I could hardly leave you out there. You do know how cold nights in Paris can get, don't you?" Aware she was chiding him as if he were one of her brothers, she could not help but add, "You should be more careful" all the same.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2015-04-20 12:54 am (UTC)She did not need to have been told of her husband's low opinion of the King's Musketeers (not that he would have ever said so aloud in the presence of one, too aware of their status). Neither did she need him in attendance looking down his nose at the Musketeer who sat at her table who wore a raggedness about him in both the state of his uniform's seams and the trim off his beard.
"It's alright," she told him, her concern for him before absolving much of the need of his thanks. Not that such gratitude fell upon deaf ears, as she was too starved for such recognition to not tuck them away for later review. Constance could practically hear her husband's haughty insistence that, yes, this Athos had imposed on their respectable home. Her fingers twisted a napkin she had picked up as she told him, "I could hardly leave you out there. You do know how cold nights in Paris can get, don't you?" Aware she was chiding him as if he were one of her brothers, she could not help but add, "You should be more careful" all the same.