You could have said something, anything. You should have denied it. Christine silently berated herself as she searched the ballroom for Raoul. She finally found him at the far end of the room, laughing with two men she didn't recognize. How could she tell him that she had confirmed their engagement to his brother, the one thing he had asked her not to do?

He extended a hand to her as he saw her approaching. "Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my companion for the evening."

Christine frowned slightly, upset at being described as merely his 'companion.' Perhaps she had unintentionally divulged the truth of the engagement to Philippe, but deep down inside she had wanted everyone to know. For the moment though, she swept aside her resentment and smiled graciously as Raoul introduced her.

"Messieurs, this is Mademoiselle Daae. Christine, the Marquis de Touraine and the Duc de Bourbon."

"The famous Mademoiselle Daae! It is an honor," the Marquis exclaimed, bowing respectfully. "I quite enjoyed your performance as Juliet."

The Duc silently lowered his head, barely acknowledging Christine's presence.

"Raoul, may I speak with you privately?" Christine asked hurriedly after a polite curtsey for her host.

"Excuse me gentlemen," Raoul dismissed himself and followed Christine out of the room.

With raised eyebrows, the Marquis turned to his companion. "It seems that she already has him under her thumb. I don't understand how Philippe can allow this."

But Raoul and Christine were ignorant of the tactless comments and the prying eyes that followed them. Holding Raoul's hand, Christine found her way to a small library off the ballroom. She breathed in the scent of old leather soaked with cigar smoke as she took a deep breath to steady herself. She cautiously peeked her head outside the door before closing it.

Raoul was surprised by Christine's curious behavior. "What's the-"

Christine interrupted before he could finish his question. "He knows; Philippe knows about the engagement."

"How?"

"I think he knew before he even asked me. I didn't know what to say and…" Christine trailed off, tears forming in her eyes.

Raoul pulled her into his arms, sighing into her gentle curls. "It's alright chéri, don't cry. He only found out a little sooner than I had hoped."

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head up. "Please don't cry."

Her deep brown eyes searched his. "You aren't upset with me? I know how much you wanted Philippe to see a proper courtship."

"Of course I'm not! I myself have a most difficult time trying to deceive Philippe, how on earth could I expect you to accomplish it?"

Raoul took her face in his hands and gently kissed her. "Come now, let us rejoin the party. You owe me a dance."

Accepting the handkerchief that Raoul offered, Christine dabbed at her eyes. "And I shall happily oblige," she responded, allowing a smile to grace her face.

But in the ballroom, Philippe was plotting a deception of his own. In front of the picture window was the very man he had been hoping to find.

The Baron de Valois was an exceedingly wealthy young aristocrat. As the youngest of three sons, he held no position of responsibility in his family. He freely roamed among the taverns, drinking until his head swam and finding diversion in strange beds. Women were easily seduced by his striking face and easy charm. False promises of love and courtship made the morning after a night of passion often resulted in a smart slap on the cheek. But this was easily remedied with a spiteful laugh and a visit to his waiting mistress. It was for this roguish behavior that the Comte had sought him out.

"Monsieur le Baron, I hadn't expected you to attend tonight," Philippe said nonchalantly as he approached the young man.

The Baron's lips curled up in a smirk. "Monsieur le Comte, you may dismiss with formalities and address me as Andrew. And you may kindly tell me why you have engaged me in conversation, as we both know you disapprove of my character. Only something truly important would cause you to lower yourself enough to be seen in my company."

Philippe, slightly taken aback, began his proposition. "Well…Andrew, I need your help to remedy a situation with my brother."

"The ever-perfect Vicomte de Chagny? What 'situation' could he have possibly found himself in?" Andrew asked mockingly, his eyes surveying the room.

"First, it must be understood that there be no mention of this to Raoul. He does not fully understand the circumstances he has placed himself in. It involves his fiancée…"

"The famous opera diva. So they are engaged after all? I had heard rumors." Andrew turned to look Philippe squarely in the face, lacking the modesty which would have required him to lower his voice. "And what of the other rumors? Of her mysterious masked lover? It's been mentioned by some of my more unsavory company that he agreed to further her career so long as she kept his bed warm."

"It is exactly those kinds of rumors that I do not want swarming around my family. To the point, Monsieur, I have come to entreat you on my brother's behalf to help him realize the error he has made in this engagement."

"And how am I to accomplish that?" Andrew asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and cocking his head to one side.

"By revealing his fiancée as the harlot that she is. He is able to see past her lowly station, but I doubt that he would be able to forgive a betrayal of his heart. Your reputation is well known; if it were to be discovered that you had taken her to bed, I am certain that he would break off the engagement immediately."

"Why, Monsieur le Comte, I hadn't imagined you capable of such a scandalous ruse! Against your own brother, no less."

"Not against him," Philippe corrected, "for him. For his own good."

"Please explain to me why I would be willing to assist you in this trickery?"

"I am ready to offer you a large sum in exchange for your…services."

"You certainly must be aware of my financial situation. I have no need of any money from you."

"Is there some other arrangement we can come to?"

"Where is this fiancée?" Andrew asked, once more looking about the room.

Philippe too turned his attention to the other guests. Finding Raoul and Christine on the dance floor, he pointed them out to Andrew. "She is dancing with Raoul, the brunette."

Andrew leered at the beautiful young woman that the Vicomte held in his arms- the exquisite curves of her body, the pout of her pink lips, the innocent, angelic face. She would be a worthy addition to his conquests.

"You know, Monsieur, my brothers are always compelling me to be of more service to my fellow man. And for you, I will perform this favor without asking anything in return."

"Remember that Raoul can never know that we have spoken," Philippe spoke threateningly, "You do not wish to incur my anger."

"No need to worry, I would never betray your confidence. That lovely young creature will be screaming and writhing beneath me before the week is out; and your brother will be able to find a much more suitable companion."

As Philippe strode away to find more respectable company, Andrew stepped back into the obscurity of the shadows. Like a dangerous predator he eyed up his prey, waiting for the appropriate moment to strike.