Simon bowed. “I am a younger cousin of his, madam, which explains the resemblance. Suzanne and I met before her wedding and we became friends. To my great joy, we found each other again in London.”
Madeline nodded approvingly. “Well done, sir. Now I shall take Suzanne off to meet several of my friends. We have so much to talk about!”
As Suzanne was carried off, de Chaurry drawled, “How fortunate that your wife has found friends. Let me introduce you to these new arrivals.” He beckoned two men closer. “Moncoutant, Roubaix, come meet Colonel Duval, who may or may not be the Comte de Chambron.”
Moncoutant reminded Simon of a sly, sleek fox, alert and unpredictable. He inclined his head politely, and like Suzanne, he asked, “Which army?”
“British. It seemed the best way to oppose Napoleon. I’m selling out now that the wars are over.” He smiled without humor. “Assuming theyareover. One hears rumors. Do you think the Corsican will remain in containment?”
“I think it unlikely,” Roubaix said, his brow furrowed. He was dark and had a face that looked jolly, except for his eyes. “He is a man of great ability and great ambition. He will grow restless in Elba, particularly since our Bourbon king is not sending him the agreed upon allowance.”
“That’s very short sighted,” Simon agreed. “A lion who is not being fed properly is more likely to break from his cage. Do you have any thoughts on what might happen?”
De Chaurry pursed his lips. “One would hope that the Royal Navy can keep him in Elba. But the emperor has too many supporters who will do anything for him. I fear that sooner or later the captors will grow careless and the lion will emerge to fight once again.”
Simon sighed. “And our poor France will suffer once more.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Roubaix said. “I don’t think he’ll return to France. Italy is more likely. It’s only a few miles from Elba and there might be less resistance there.”
“That’s an interesting thought. But if he goes to Italy and is proclaimed ruler, how long until his ambitions drive him to conquer again?”
“Not long at all,” Moncoutant said. “If he returns to France, he will find a great deal of support. He still owns the hearts of the troops who served under him.”
“I think much of his success was that he preached democracy and the common man, but ruled like a tyrant,” Roubaix observed. “A man of two faces.”
“Both of which are dangerous,” de Chaurry said acerbically. “I would love to return home to my lands in Lorraine. But the political situation feels uncertain, which is why I remain safely here among the boring Britons.”
“A good number of our compatriots share your wariness.” Simon gestured to the groups of well-dressed guests.
“Yes, but many who are less cautious than I have returned to France, so my entertainments are thin of company compared to what they were.” De Chaurry gave a very Gallic shrug. “Will you reclaim your family’s lands, Duval?”
“I haven’t really thought much about that,” Simon admitted. “I’m only recently out of the army after years spent in Portugal and Spain. For now, it’s good to be in England. I’m half English, you know, so my roots are as deep here as in France.”
“What of your wife? She is all French.”
“We are still newlyweds,” Simon said with a suggestive smile. “We have not spent much time talking about the future.”
The other men chuckled knowingly. Moncoutant said, “Understandable! She’s very lovely. Is it true that she has learned harem skills that can drive a man to the brink of madness?”
Simon restrained the impulse to plant a fist in the other man’s lascivious face. “My wife is a lady. I will not discuss her with any man.”
De Chaurry looked disappointed. “Your English blood is showing, but no matter. Let me introduce you to my other guests.”
As Simon talked and listened, he found that most of the guests had views similar to de Chaurry. They professed to loathe Napoleon, but they weren’t impressed with the aging, ineffectual Bourbon king who sat on the throne.
Most would be pleased to return to their prerevolution stations of vast wealth and privilege, but all recognized that years had passed and France had changed. They hoped that when the political situation stabilized, they would still have wealth and privilege, if not as much as they’d had in the past.
And they all felt that Napoleon’s prison in Elba was unlikely to keep him caged forever. It was an interesting evening, though Simon hadn’t heard anything that was likely to interest Kirkland. Perhaps Suzanne would do better.
* * *
Suzanne was surprised at how much she was enjoying the evening. The de Chaurry “entertainment” seemed to mean conversation, pleasant music in the background, with light, delicious, and very French refreshments and all the good wine one could drink. Kirkland had been right; mingling among the émigrés with an aristocratic soldier husband and a really good new gown made her much more acceptable.
Granted, a few men leered at her and some women turned away rather than be introduced, but most of the émigrés were civil. The unexpected miracle was Madeline. She was a few years older than Suzanne and had been like a helpful big sister guiding a young bride in the ways of the world.
As they exchanged news, Madeline offered condolences on the death of Jean-Louis and quiet sympathy for what Suzanne had suffered in captivity. There were no insults or sneers from her or her friends, but they had a lively curiosity about the day-to-day life of a harem. What did concubines eat, what did they wear, how did they spend their time, and were the Turkish baths as magnificent as they’d heard? How often could a concubine expect to be summoned to her master’s bed?
Suzanne had known such questions would arise, and she’d worked out her answers in advance. “The baths are indeed magnificent.” She sighed with longing. “Perhaps I can persuade my husband to build one for me. But as for a concubine’s romantic life, that varied enormously. My master liked women with unusual features, which in my case meant my green eyes, which he’d never seen before. But otherwise. . . .”
