The Diamond Slipper Read Free Page B

sister’s sudden death, an almost unbearable tension and unfocused rage would fill him. It had been so unnecessary. So abrupt. Her marriage had changed her certainly, dampened her wonderful exuberance, and her ready laughter was heard less often. But when he’d left her and gone to Rome that February of 1765, she’d been as full of life, as beautiful as ever. He could still see her deep blue eyes, their mother’s eyes, smiling as she bade him farewell. There had been a shadow in the depths of her eyes that he had put down to melancholy at their parting. They had always hated to be too distant from each other.
    A week later she was dead. And now when he conjured up her image, all he saw was that shadow in her eyes, and now he remembered that it had been there for many months, and that sometimes her laughter had sounded strained, and that once he had surprised an expression on her face that he had never seen before. Almost of terror. But Elvira had laughed when he’d probed, and he’d thought nothing of it until after her death. Now he could think of little else.
    “Lord Kierston?”
    He returned to his surroundings with a jolt. The empress was talking to him. “I understand you have assurances from the French king that if Cordelia is wed to Prince Michael, she will be permitted to accompany my daughter to Versailles,” the empress asked.
    The assurances were actually from Madame du Barry, the king’s mistress, but, as they all knew, the du Barry’s word was as good as the king’s. “Yes indeed, Your Majesty. His Majesty understands that it will be hard for the archduchess to leave everything and everyone she knows behind her on her marriage to the dauphin.”
    “My daughter will embrace France as her country,” Maria Theresa stated. “She knows her duty. She knows that she was born to obey.” She nodded decisively. “And Cordelia, of course, will be delighted to accompany Marie Antoinette—and to accept such an advantageous marriage. You have discussed this with her, Duke?” She turned to Franz with an inquiring smile.
    The duke shrugged. “I saw no need to do so, madame. Cordelia also knows that she was born to obey. Now is time enough to tell her of her good fortune.”
    Good fortune? Leo’s face was expressionless. Michael was a desiccated Prussian prince of rigid temperament; a sixteen-year-old might well be a trifle skeptical of such good fortune. Michael had not been as rigid when he’d married Elvira, but her death had darkened him in some way.
    “So, my niece will wed Prince Michael by proxy and will accompany the dauphine to Versailles. You, Viscount, will be her escort, I understand.”
    “Yes, Duke. It will be my honor and privilege.” Leo inclined his head in acknowledgment, thinking wearily of how tedious it was going to be accompanying some simpering debutante on such a long and arduous journey.
    “Cordelia should be informed immediately. Send for Lady Cordelia.” The empress gestured to her secretary, who bowed and left the room with swift step. “I would have this matter settled before the festivities of the wedding truly begin. We will be done with all business so we may enjoy ourselves on this joyous occasion with a free heart.” Maria Theresa smiled benignly.
    Cordelia stared down at the Latin text in front of her. The words made no sense; the grammatical structure was impenetrable. As she stumbled over the translation, she could sense the puzzled impatience of Abbé Vermond, the archbishop of Toulouse, who tutored both Cordelia and Marie Antoinette. Cordelia never stumbled. She took greatpleasure in the intricacies of the Latin language, as she did in philosophy, history, and mathematics. Unlike Toinette, whose attention span was almost nonexistent, Cordelia was in general a bright, quick pupil. But not today.
    She was alternately hot and cold, alternately filled with confused embarrassment and bemused anger when she thought of the exchange with the Englishman. And then when her