François moved through the very French party in his very French suit chatting to people, to faces he may know, to face he assumed the DeCroixs new. He did have a mind to look at for handsome young men in their early twenties. Given the rumours had now subsided he doubted the man in question would actually decide to show up, but Dupont had no idea what he looked like, there was always that nagging doubt.

As he nursed his wine he spotted a man who might fit the bill, but mostly he looked without company. "Bonjour, lovely evening to you. Have you had a dance yet?" he asked in his very French accent to the younger man.