The diamond slipper, p.30
The Diamond Slipper, page 30
"What a delightful sound."
They both leaped to their feet. The king stood in the doorway, an indulgent smile on his face. The Countess de Noailles behind him looked far from indulgent.
"Monseigneur… I… I… wasn't-You do me too much honor." Stammering, Toinette curtsied. Cordelia was already in a deep curtsy, wondering if she could unobtrusively catch her discarded slippers with her toes. To appear before the king in dishabille was unheard of. Barefoot added insult to injury. True, they hadn't been expecting him, but there was no way of knowing whether His Majesty would take that into account.
"Princess von Sachsen, how charming you look. Rise… rise." The king accompanied the command with an illustrative gesture. "You will excuse us if I have a private word with Madame the Dauphine."
Thankfully, Cordelia curtsied her way backward, grabbing up her slippers as she slid from the room. She caught sight of Toinette's alarmed expression. The king didn't ordinarily visit even his granddaughter-in-law unannounced.
She hurried from the royal apartments. Her informal morning gown of peach muslin was very pretty, but it was clearly time to dress herself for the day. Gathering her skirts into her hand, she ran up the flight of stairs leading from Toinette's apartment, enjoying the freedom of movement, the ability to stride instead of glide. She whirled around a corner at the head of the stairs and bumped headlong into Viscount Kierston. She flung out her arms as if to steady herself.
"Oh, I wasn't looking where I was going!" Her arms had found their way around his waist. "But how very fortunate that it was you who saved me." She looked up at him, still clutching him tightly. "Would you believe I've just been barefoot in the king's presence?" Her eyes brimmed with the laughter that bubbled in her voice, and Leo saw again the carefree, mischievous girl who'd thrown roses at him in Schonbrunn. But underneath, he now detected the dark currents of experience, and he was filled with a great sadness. Cordelia would never again be that girl. She had had too many illusions shattered in too short a time ever to recapture her carefree girlhood.
"For pity's sake, Cordelia, let go of me!" he demanded, laughing, glancing over his shoulder. The corridor was for the moment deserted.
"No," she said with another chuckle. "You're my proxy husband again and it's your duty to catch me when I fall."
"What are you talking about?" Despite himself, he grinned down at her. She was utterly enchanting and her body was unconstrained, warm and fluid beneath the thin muslin gown.
"Michael has gone to Paris at the behest of the king and the dauphine," she informed him, her eyes shining. "They sent him to fetch the girls so that the king might notice them. Oh, you should have seen his face. He had to say how honored he was, of course, but you could see he was grinding his teeth in rage. And now I have no husband, so I must rely upon my proxy as escort at all the functions. Oh, and at the hunt in the morning," she added. "I can't wait for that, it's been an age since I've been on horseback."
Her arms still encircled his waist. Her breath was warm and sweet carrying the excited gush of words. He could see himself reflected in the turquoise pools of her eyes as he looked down into her face.
"I could come to you tonight." Her voice was now low, throbbing with sensual anticipation. "We could have all night, Leo. May I come?"
He fought to get his bearings. She was talking in riddles but all he could see were those huge brilliant eyes singing their siren's song, inviting him to lose himself in her sensual tempest. But one of them had to be sensible. Half laughing, half exasperated, he seized her hands at his back and tried to break her grip. "For God's sake, Cordelia, remember where we are. Let go of me, girl!"
"I haven't got my balance yet," she said wickedly, linking her fingers tightly to resist him. "And anyway, as my proxy husband, it's your duty to support me."
Leo glanced around again. Two courtiers appeared at the far end of the corridor. A door stood ajar on an empty antechamber across the passage. "Come here!" With a final tug, he succeeded in breaking her clasp, seized her wrist, and jerked her into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. "You are an impossible creature."
Cordelia chuckled. "We're quite safe here, though, aren't we?" With a swift movement, she darted behind him and turned the key in the door. "There, now you can relax. Nobody is going to come upon us unawares."
He didn't reply but his lips twitched. She was leaning against the door, eyes sparkling, lips parted. "I love you," she mouthed.
"And for my sins, I love you, you dreadful girl!" He pulled her into his arms kissing her hard, before setting her back against the door. "Now, would you just begin at the beginning, please?"
"What room is this?" Mischievously ignoring his request, Cordelia looked around with every appearance of fascination. "It's like a junk room."
Leo massaged the back of his neck and found himself absently examining his surroundings. Cordelia's description had been accurate. Piles of furniture and boxes, covered paintings, and massive gilt frames littered the dusty marble floor. It looked as if the room hadn't been used for years. But Versailles was full of such places, even along the most populous corridors and staircases.
He pulled himself back to the issue at hand. "Never mind where we are, Cordelia. Just explain what the devil you were prattling about in the corridor?"
"I wasn't prattling," she protested. "I never prattle. I have got rid of Michael for a while and the girls will be here soon. And we can have a whole night together!"
She plunked down on the faded striped chintz, setting up a cloud of dust.
"Where has Michael gone?"
"To fetch the girls." She told him of Toinette's clever scheme. "And while they're here, I intend to make a lot of changes in their lives," she finished. "If the dauphine and the king take an interest in them, then they'll have to have my escort rather than the Nevry's, won't they?"
Leo frowned. "In theory. But I don't know how Michael will react in practice. Did he say how long he'd be gone?"
"No, but it can't be less than twenty-four hours. He hasn't said anything to me since the opera. I don't know where he was last night, but he didn't come near me, and Monsieur Brion said he left at dawn this morning." She jumped up again. "We'll have the whole night together."
"Brion will know that you're not there."
"Ah, but Brion and I are allies," she said with a decisive little nod of her head. "I am building my defenses, you should know."
His gaze sharpened. "Explain."
Succinctly she gave him the details of her unspoken alliance with the majordomo. "I am becoming adept at political scheming, my lord," she finished with another little nod.
He couldn't help laughing at her smugness, but neither could he hide his admiration. Cordelia was very young, but she could be remarkably sophisticated.
"Come to my room at midnight," he said with an apparent nonchalance that concealed the heady rush of arousal. He would plan for a night that would live in Cordelia's mind and body until her dying day.
"I won't be able to endure the waiting," Cordelia said with a catch in her voice. "How can I wait until midnight? It's but eleven in the morning now."
"You will learn, my sweet, that anticipation has its own rewards," he replied. His eyes were golden fires, ablaze with promise.
Abruptly, Cordelia sat down again. Her legs seemed to have gone to butter and she was not prepared for the abrupt change of topic, when he said coolly, sitting down beside her on the dusty sofa, "For the moment we have other matters to discuss.
"If you leave your husband with my escort, you will be going to a life of exile. Every court in Europe will know the scandal and we will be received nowhere. And you will always be in danger of recapture by your husband. Do you understand these things, Cordelia?"
"Yes, of course. I've thought of it myself. But we could live privately, couldn't we? As private citizens on your estates, or something? You do have an estate in England, don't you?"
"Yes, of course. But I don't think you understand what such a life could be-"
"Oh, but I do," she interrupted eagerly. "A life with you, loving you. Just the two of us. I can't think of anything more blissful."
Part of him wanted to agree, but he owed her the knowledge of reality. Love's first raptures didn't last forever. And how could he be sure that Cordelia's passionate convictions could survive a lifetime of their consequences? "My sweet child, you must consider." He was very grave now. "You're only sixteen years old. A life of a disgraced exile buried in the English countryside will pall very quickly. If we have children, they will be illegitimate. Have you thought of that?"
"No, I hadn't." She was frowning now, the light gone from her eyes. "But if they had us to love them, then-"
"While they're children, yes. But to carry that stigma for all their lives? Just consider, Cordelia."
Then perhaps we shouldn't have any children," she suggested. "We'll have the girls, won't we? We can't leave them with Michael." She spoke the thought as it popped into her head. Everything had happened so fast, she hadn't had a chance to think further than this all-consuming love. But of course the children had to be a part of that love, of the future of that love.
Leo had had plenty of time to think. He took her hand. "No, I can't leave them with Michael. Not knowing what I do about him. They are Elvira's children and I am self-sworn to protect them."
"Yes, of course, I understand that," she said impatiently. "That's what I said-"
"Cordelia, listen!" He took her other hand. "To take a man's wife is one thing. Michael might agree to divorce you so that he would be free to take another wife. It's not impossible. But if I take his children-that's a crime punishable by death. Michael will never willingly give up his children."
"Then we'll have to go somewhere far away and take on other identities," she said simply.
Leo was silent, frowning down at the floor, absently noticing tiny footprints in the thick dust. Mice presumably.
Cordelia swallowed uncomfortably as the silence lengthened, then she drew a deep breath and said, "Do you not wish to take me away, Leo? Have you thought better of it? I understand, of course I do. The children are your blood. They must have first consideration."
"No, I haven't changed my mind," he said, raising his head. "I was merely trying to point out to you the difficulties. I'm no fairy godmother, sweetheart. I don't have a magic wand."
"I understand that," she said in a small voice.
"You cannot go back to Vienna-"
"No, of course I can't!" she exclaimed. "My uncle would simply send me straight back to Michael."
"As I was saying," he said repressively, "you cannot go back to Vienna. If I can procure a passport for you, you could perhaps travel incognito to England. My sister and her husband would take you in." His frown deepened. Lizzie was an impulsive creature with a head full of romance. She'd throw herself heart and soul into such a scheme, but her husband, Francis, was less impetuous. He might well fight shy of sheltering an adulterous relationship under his roof, particularly when the woman was sought across the Continent by an outraged husband and her own family. Cordelia, the goddaughter of an empress and the wife of a prince, was much less of a private citizen than he himself.
"You wouldn't come too?" she ventured.
"Not immediately. It would be suspicious if we disappeared together."
"And what of the girls?"
"Until I can find a way to get them away from Michael, I must be able to see them. Therefore I must stay close by."
"Yes, I see." She swallowed. Leo loved her. He loved her enough to save her from her husband. But his love and responsibility for his sister's children must take precedence. She understood that. She wouldn't argue with it. Loyalty to one's friends and loved ones was an imperative she could never deny. Leo had to find a way to handle the conflicting demands of two such loyalties. She could think of only one way to help him.
She sat up very straight, facing him across the separating length of the sofa. "I told you that as long as I have your love, I can endure anything, Leo. I can stay in this marriage, if I have you near me. If I know that I have my friends. Mathilde and Christian and Toinette, and you." Her eyes were bright with tears and the light of conviction. "I will stay with Michael until we can develop a plan that enables us to take the children with us. If you don't desert me, Leo, I can endure anything."
And again he thought bitterly that while love might make endurance easier for Cordelia, it made it impossible for him. He would send her to Lizzie as soon as he could arrange it. And then he would worry about the children. But since Cordelia would resist being sent away, he must make his plans in secret.
"I'll work something out," he said confidently. "But I do want you to think about the realities of life as it will be. Think very carefully, love, because once done, it cannot be undone."
"I know that. Do you think I don't?" she said, gripping his hands tightly. "I won't want it undone, Leo. Never."
"Never is a very long time," he said, his smile disguising his racing thoughts. There was a whore in the Pare aux Cerfs whose brother-in-law was the chief of police on Ile de la Cite in Paris. For the right consideration, passports could be acquired. He could have Cordelia out of Paris within the fortnight.
And in the meantime, they had a whole night ahead of them. Deliberately, he allowed his mind to dwell on the images already building. As yet half formed, most of them, but the picture of the coming night was painting itself in sinuous silhouette.
"If you wish, this afternoon I'll conduct you to Mathilde." His voice was as calm as the Dead Sea, and he knew Cordelia couldn't begin to guess his erotic thoughts.
"Oh, that would be wonderful," she said. "I so miss her." She leaned into him, placing her flat palm against his cheek. "We'll make it work, Leo, I know we will."
The conviction of idealistic youth? The conviction of an incurable optimist? He turned his head to plant a kiss in her palm. "Come to me after the stroke of midnight." He tipped her chin and kissed her mouth, the delicate fluttering eye- lids, the tip of her nose. "Now you must go."
He stood up, drawing her with him, unlocked the door, and stepped behind it, out of sight of the corridor. "Go, and don't look back."
He waited five minutes before stepping out himself, strolling casually down the corridor, blending with the crowd of courtiers hurrying to the king's levee. A tall slender man in a charcoal gray suit lined with crimson silk mingling easily with the scurrying throng. And behind the amiable smile exquisitely erotic dreams warred with the facts of a grim reality.
Prince Michael, arms folded across his chest, sat back in the cumbersome coach as it lumbered over the narrow road from Versailles to Paris. At his feet rested the leather chest He was glowering in the dim interior of the vehicle. The leather curtains covered the windows, protecting the occupant from the curious stares and insolent observations of passersby on the carriage's frequent enforced stops at crowded intersections.
