The Diamond Slipper (11 page)

“An allowance of my own money! It’s so unjust.”

Leo shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s the way of the world and not to be changed by a slip of a girl.”

“Don’t be too sure, my lord.” Cordelia thrust her irritation from her and tossed the dice again. “Come, let us throw. We don’t have a flat surface, but we can toss them on the seat beside you. The disadvantage will be the same for both of us.” She leaned over, the shawl slipping from her, revealing the deep cleft between her round breasts. The scent of her hair, so close to his face, filled his nostrils, the curve of her cheek entranced him.

The dice rolled on the velvet seat beside Leo, and he turned with relief to look.

“A four and a six.” Cordelia sat back with a smile of triumph. “Let’s see if you can do better, my lord.”

Resigned, Leo tossed the dice. They came up three and a two.

“Ha! I win.” She gathered up the dice and held out her hand for her winnings.

Leo drew out his own purse and handed her four louis, which she pocketed with such an air of gloating jubilation that he couldn’t help laughing. “What a graceless winner you are. I trust you don’t lose as badly.”

“I rarely lose,” she said smugly, tossing the dice in her hands again. “Shall we raise the stakes to five?”

It seemed a relatively harmless way to pass the time, and Cordelia’s shameless exultation at every win was irresistible. And she won every throw.

Belatedly, it occurred to Leo that such a run of good luck was way beyond the average. She had gleefully pocketed
twenty louis before the first suspicion entered his head. Casually, he turned sideways to watch closely as she tossed the dice. There was something about the way she flicked them that caught his attention. It was a little twist of her wrist that ordinarily would pass unnoticed, but he was beginning to find his continual losses somewhat tedious.

“Ha! I win again! You owe me another five louis, my lord.” She held out her hand in her usual fashion.

“I wonder if I do,” he said slowly, scooping up the dice from the seat beside him. They felt normal enough. He’d been throwing them for the last half hour without a qualm. He glanced up. Cordelia was looking transparently anxious and had withdrawn her open palm.

He tossed the dice in his palm, fixing her with a hard stare, watching the color rise in her creamy cheeks, waiting until her eyes dropped to her lap.

“These are weighted in some way, aren’t they?
Aren’t they
?” he repeated when she seemed disinclined to answer.

“How could you accuse me of such a thing?” Her color was high, her bottom lip clipped between her teeth.

“You cheating little fibster!” he declared, tossing the dice into her lap. “Show me how they work.”

“I was going to give the money back to you.” Her glowing eyes were enormous, fixed earnestly on his face.

“You’ll forgive me if I doubt that,” he said dryly. “Now, show me how they work.”

“Oh, very well. But it’s such a neat little trick. If you didn’t know, you couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t, could you?”

“If I had been able to, I wouldn’t be twenty louis the poorer,” he said as aridly as before. “I’m waiting.”

Cordelia leaned forward, almost into his lap, the dice cupped in her hand. “They’re clipped at this corner. If you flick them onto the edge, they always fall either on the six or the four. It doesn’t win every time, but most of the time.”

She was far too close to him. Her scent, the deep cleft of her bosom, the midnight-black mass of curls were making his head spin, and when she looked up at him, a tentative
smile in her eyes that were that moment as brilliant as sapphires, his breath caught in his throat.

“It was only a little fun, my lord.” Her voice was both apologetic and defensive. “It wasn’t as if we were playing seriously.”

“I didn’t notice we were playing for pretend louis. I tell you, Cordelia, that if I’d been playing with a man who used such tricks, I would take a horsewhip to him,” he stated.

“Wouldn’t you challenge him to a duel?” Cordelia asked in surprise, momentarily distracted from her own predicament.

“I wouldn’t dishonor my sword with his blood,” he said bluntly.

“Oh.” She chewed her lip again, then rummaged through her reticule. “Here. Every one of them.” She tipped the louis into his hand. “I suppose it was wicked, but I do so love to win. And I’d never do it at the tables.”

She sounded so melancholy and aggrieved that amusement yet again shattered Leo’s justified annoyance. It simply wasn’t possible to be angry with her for more than a fleeting instant, even in the face of such outrageous behavior.

“I give you fair warning, that if anyone catches you cheating in the salons of Versailles, you will be ostracized, and not even the dauphine will be able to redeem you,” he said with dire emphasis. “And if you bring such dishonor on your husband’s name, he would be entitled to have you shut up in a nunnery.”

“But I wouldn’t!” Cordelia protested, horrified as much by the idea that he might consider her capable of such stupidity as by the contemplation of such retribution. “We only played with these tricks in the family. Toinette is just as bad as I am; sometimes it was the only way to beat the archdukes. And they were quite odious when they won and set all sorts of embarrassing forfeits.”

“Well, I’ve a mind to set a forfeit of my own,” he said thoughtfully, tapping his mouth with his fingertips as he examined her.

“What?” A little prickle of excitement ran over her skin. She leaned forward again. “How would you have me pay, sir?”

Leo realized his mistake immediately. Whenever he dropped his guard, he found himself blundering into the morass. Her lips were parted in unmistakable invitation, and the tip of her pink tongue ran slowly over them in a gesture so seductive that it took his breath away. Cordelia was not the least alarmed by talk of forfeits.

He sat back, saying indifferently, “I find this tedious.” Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the seat back and to all intents and purposes went to sleep.

Cordelia frowned. She didn’t believe for a minute that he was truly asleep. She rifled through the contents of her reticule with great sighs and rustles as if looking for something vital. Then she hummed a little tune, tapping her foot in accompaniment. Still the viscount remained apparently asleep.

She let down the window and leaned out to watch the passing scenery. “Goodness, you should see the crowds lining the wayside to watch us pass,” she observed conversationally. “Oh, and there’s a dancing bear on a chain. It looks very sad, poor creature. Oh, and look, they’re chasing a pickpocket … and there’s a gingerbread stall. It’s just like a fair, with stalls and entertainers.” She withdrew her head and regarded her still-somnolent companion. “It’s a deal more entertaining outside than it is in here.”

Leo gave up. He opened his eyes. “Has anyone ever suggested wringing your neck?”

“Not to my knowledge,” she said with a twinkle. “But it’s odious of you to pretend to be asleep. I wouldn’t have disturbed you if you were truly fatigued, but you’re not. And I have so many things I want to ask you.”

“Serious things?” he asked suspiciously.

“Utterly. The empress told me you would use the journey to educate me in the particulars of life at Versailles. Toinette
will have the comtesse de Noailles to tell her things, but I have only you.”

“Very well.” They had to do something to pass the time, and this seemed both safe and useful. “What do you wish to know?”

“Oh, a host of things, but before we begin, I have another wager … no, not dice and not for money,” she added, seeing his darkening expression. “Something much more important. Let us wager on the precise time of arrival at Melk. Whoever gets closest wins.”

“And what are the stakes?” Why he was even considering it on past experience, Leo didn’t know.

“If I win, I ride tomorrow instead of sitting in this stuffy carriage.”

“And if I win?” One black eyebrow lifted.

“Your choice.”

“Oh, now, that is tempting indeed.” He stroked his chin, reflecting. Cordelia waited rather anxiously. She couldn’t imagine what he’d choose.

“Very well. If I win, you will refrain from pestering or provoking me the entire day.”

“Is that what you think I do?” Hurt clouded her eyes but he refused to see it.

“I want none of your blatant flirtation, none of your trickery. You will behave with perfect decorum in my presence, and you will speak only when spoken to. Agreed?”

Cordelia nibbled her lip. It seemed a poor wager but she didn’t have much option. She’d just have to hope she won. She shrugged her agreement. “So, let’s write our projections now and put them away until we arrive.” She drew out a lead pencil and a small notebook from her reticule and handed them to him.

Leo didn’t hesitate. He wrote swiftly, then tore out the page and tucked it into his coat pocket.

Cordelia took the pencil and paper. She frowned fiercely, chewing the end of the pencil, trying to calculate how far they had already journeyed. They would have to stop for
refreshment and to change horses, and it would all be very ceremonious, so it would take time.

“Mathematics is not your strong suit?” Leo inquired with a solicitous smile.

“On the contrary,” she retorted. “It’s one of my best subjects.” Stung, she gave up calculating and scribbled her projection. “There.” She stuffed the paper back into her reticule and sat back. “Now we’ll see.”

“So, you have questions.”

“When did your sister die?”

He hadn’t expected that, but it seemed an understandable question. “Four years ago. The girls were nine months old.” His expression was neutral, his eyes hooded.

“What did she die of?”

“What has that to do with the particulars of life at Versailles?” His voice was cold, his mouth suddenly tight.

“I’m sorry,” she said swiftly. “Does it pain you to talk of her?”

She didn’t know how much. But it wasn’t so much pain as this deep tide of rage that threatened to burst its dams when he thought of the wastefulness of such a death, such a vibrant, precious life extinguished almost overnight. He forced himself to relax and answered her first question, ignoring the second. “She died of a fever … a very swift wasting sickness.”

It was far too common a cause of death to surprise Cordelia. “You loved her very much?” she asked tentatively, her eyes grave now, her expression soft.

“My feelings for Elvira can have nothing to do with your new life, Cordelia,” he said, trying not to snap. He could never bring himself to talk about his sister, not even to Michael, who always maintained an understanding silence on the subject.

“Elvira. That’s a pretty name.” Cordelia seemed not to have heard him. “Was she older than you?”

Clearly, she was not to be put off. “We were twins,” he said shortly.

“Oh.” Cordelia nodded. “Twins have a very special bond, don’t they?”

“So it’s said. Can we talk about Versailles now?”

“Your sister gave birth to twins. It must run in the family,” Cordelia continued. “Perhaps you’ll father twins when you marry. Have you ever wished to marry?”

“That is not a topic for this conversation,” he declared frigidly. “If you wish us to continue, then you will confine yourself to pertinent questions.”

“I didn’t intend to be impertinent,” she said, frowning. “I was just being interested and friendly.”

Leo wondered if she was being disingenuous and then decided that he didn’t wish to know. He offered no encouragement, and after a minute she said, “Tell me about my husband. What kind of man is he?”

This at least was an unimpeachable area of interest. “He’s a man in his prime. A great huntsman, which makes him popular with the king. He enjoys court life and you’ll find that you’ll be invited to most of the sojourns at the other palaces, like Fontainebleu, St. Cloud, the Trianon, the Hotel de Ville. The court picks itself up and goes on these journeys four or five times a year. The king grows impatient if he stays in one place too long.”

Cordelia was listening intently, but while this exposition on court travels was mildly interesting, it wasn’t as pertinent as her husband. “But will I like him?” She leaned forward again, underscoring the seriousness of the question.

Leo shrugged carelessly and drew away from her maddening proximity. “How should I know, Cordelia. Many people do, but he has enemies. We all do.”

“Is he kind?” Cordelia persevered, laying a hand on his knee. “Is he good to the children?”

He was a cold, indifferent parent, one reason why Leo was so anxious that they should have a concerned and caring stepmother. However, Leo kept this reflection to himself. “They are in the charge of a governess. I don’t believe their father has much to do with them.”

That, too, was not uncommon. She opened her mouth for another question when the blast of a trumpet rent the air. “Oh, we must be stopping somewhere. I own I shall be glad to stretch my legs.”

Leo swung open the door when the carriage came to a halt in the center of a small village. He jumped down to the cobbled square and held out his hand to assist Cordelia in the delicate maneuver required to get herself and her wide skirts through the door. He dropped her hand the minute she was on solid ground.

Cordelia proceeded to tuck her hand in his arm. “You are my escort, proxy husband,” she murmured. “You mustn’t treat me as if I’m a pariah dog.”

He looked sharply down at her. As he’d expected, she was smiling with that outrageous invitation in her eyes. “Behave yourself!” he commanded in a ferocious undertone.

Cordelia’s smile broadened. “I haven’t lost the wager yet, my lord.”

He had no time to respond, as the village mayor came over to them, bowing low, offering the humble hospitality of his village. The dauphine and her brother were installed in chairs on a canopied dais in the center of the square, while village maidens brought them food and drink and the inhabitants of the countryside for miles around gazed in wonder at the august presence in their midst.

Cordelia and the viscount were escorted to the village inn, where hospitality for the dauphine’s retinue was provided. There were so many people milling around in the small, low-beamed taproom that conversation was impossible and the heat rapidly became insupportable. Cordelia dabbed her forehead with her handkerchief. “Pray excuse my, my lord.” She withdrew her hand from his arm and turned to leave the inn.