He wondered if she knew.
Knowing her...well, he wasn't exactly indiscrete. He wasn't a braggart, and he certainly straightened himself up afterwards. Still, she was Reinette, and she quite literally knew him better than anyone in the world.
It was disconcerting, all this knowledge she had over him. She knew his secrets and part of him truly feared her for that.
But this wasn't something to be ashamed of. The girl---what was her name?---was attractive enough. And Reinette had no real claim over him. And he was lonely. What harm did it---see, this was why he rarely engaged in sexual acts. They were always so confusing.
He downed a few glasses of wine to get rid of the taste of waxy lipstick and waited for the ball to end. A carriage ride home, then some reading, maybe even three hours of sleep.