Chapter 13
Cosette left the hotel on Davien’s arm, feeling only a slight sense of trepidation. But the moment the carriage pulled up in front of the Palais Royale she clutched his sleeve in sheer panic. “You didn’t tell me we were going to the king’s own residence!”
Blackburn turned to her with a cunning grin. “What better place to brave the lion than in his own den, and meet all his court at once?” He stepped down and held a hand out to her, ignoring the footman waiting to assist her instead. She hesitated and the duke twirled his cane, an adornment, he’d told her earlier, which was merely another part of his costume. “Come, my dear. Our evening entertainment awaits. We shouldn’t want Louis to get the wrong impression just because you needed a few more moments to powder your nose.”
Cosette took a deep breath but stepped down to the ground.
“I will be by your side the entire time.”
“I know nothing about court life,” she murmured nervously, as they made their way to the front entrance.
“It’s simple,” Davien returned. “Keep your nose in the air and only speak about things that please you.” He leaned closer. “But do it in a bored manner.”
“But what if someone wishes to dance? I don’t know the first thing about—”
This time Davien stopped and turned to her with a bland expression. “We aren’t attending a ball. It is merely a play, a performance on the stage. The most you will have to do is smile and bat your lovely eyelashes. I will carry the conversation.”
Cosette nodded this time and kept silent as they entered the palace, and handed over their outerwear to a servant. She didn’t have time to admire her expensive surroundings, before a man caught sight of them and walked over to them. “Ah, there you are, Blackburn. I thought you might have rescinded my invitation from this afternoon.”
“Odd’s fish! The thought should have never crossed my mind.”
Cosette had to look away to keep from laughing at the personal performance that Davien was putting on for the Duc de Chartres, a close friend of the king himself.
She saw the man take a pinch of snuff from a silver box before tucking it out of sight. He gave a grand laugh. “You English and your silly phrases! I believe it was the Earl of Rochester that proclaimed of your King Charles II, ‘Restless he rolls from whore to whore. A merry monarch, scandalous and poor.’ Indeed, it is still one of my favorite poems.”
Davien merely smiled. “I can only hope I gain as much enjoyment from the performance this evening.”
“There is no doubt you shall,” the duc countered. “Many will agree that Moliere is much more sophisticated than Shakespeare. While his play Dom Juan angered the king’s father, Louis has revived it with my lovely Etiennette Marie portraying the part of Donna Elvira.”
Blackburn bowed. “Then I am sure my companion and I will find it even more enthralling.” With that, they followed the duc into a sizeable ballroom. Again, Cosette was struck by the sheer opulence and exquisite décor. There was a sizeable stage on one side of the room, but a large curtain covered whatever scene might lay beyond.
But it was the man seated at the front of the room on a raised throne, surrounded by a crowd of elaborate dresses and costumes that truly captured Cosette’s attention. In addition to King Louis, two women sat on either side of him in equal places of honor. Cosette knew the eldest was Queen Marie, for she was actually older than her husband by seven years, while his most favored mistress, and one of the ladies-in-waiting to the queen, was Madame de Pompadour.
“There is so much powder in the air that I think I might actually sneeze.” To add credence to his statement, Davien put a handkerchief up to his nose.
Cosette only laughed, but her merriment quickly died when she realized that she had attracted the attention of the other occupants in the room. When the king’s eyes met hers, she thought she might actually faint.
“And who do we have to pay a call at our court?” Louis drawled.
Blackburn bowed deeply while Cosette dropped into an elegant curtsy. It was one of the few things she’d learned at the orphanage—how to act around your betters.
“I am Davien Elswood, Duke of Blackburn, at your service, Your Majesty.”
The king’s brown eyes lit with only slight interest. “An English nobleman. Why, welcome to our intimate gathering, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I was invited by the Duc of Chartres.”
“Indeed.” The king played with the lace cuffs around his wrists. “I daresay I am quite miffed at your government at the moment. They have annoyed me most considerably regarding this dreadful war in the Colonies. It would be nice to have a . . . friend I may count upon in England.”
Cosette glanced at Davien. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought that the king was actually asking Blackburn to spy for him.
Davien inclined his head. “I will pass along any information that I can.”
“Hmm.” The king regarded him shrewdly for a moment, before he became bored once again. “In that case, do enjoy your stay in our fair city.” Only then did his eyes flicker to Cosette. “Who is your lovely companion?”
Again, Cosette curtsied. “My name is Cosette du Bouir, Your Majesty.”
The king’s eyes instantly lit up at the mention of her French ancestry.
