The Diamond Slipper (23 page)

“You will do nothing—
nothing
, do you hear me?—without my permission. No one in this household takes a step without my permission.” He had put his hands on her now, and a deep shiver began in her belly.

“But they are servants, my lord. I am your wife,” she said. She would not back down. She would not show her fear.

His fingers tightened around her upper arms, bringing back a flood of physical memories of the night. She could smell the muskiness of his skin, almost choking her as it had done during the ghastly hours of darkness. And he was hurting her again. “You are as much under my authority as any servant, my dear.” His voice was low but intense. “You will forget that at your own risk. Do you understand?”

Cordelia closed her lips tightly. She averted her face from his, now so close to her she thought she would faint with loathing.

“Answer me!” he demanded.

“You’re hurting me.” It was all the answer he was going to get.

“
Answer me
!”

“In order for me to understand, my lord, I beg you will explain to me exactly how you would wish me to involve myself with your daughters.” She ignored the pain in her arms. She had had confrontations of a like sort with her uncle. She hadn’t given way to him; she would not give way to her husband.

“Viscount Kierston implied that it was hoped I would be a mother to them. I cannot do that if I’m permitted to see them only at your command.”

With a shock, Michael realized that she was not intimidated.
“They have no need of mothering,” he said tautly. “Their governess will supervise their education and their day-to-day care. But she has no experience of court circles. You will be responsible for preparing them to move in those circles. You will also begin to prepare them for their betrothals. There will be no need for you to involve yourself in their general welfare. Is that understood?”

“Surely they’re too young to be considered for betrothal?” she exclaimed.

“That is no business of yours.” He shook her in rough emphasis. “You will keep your opinions to yourself.” But he couldn’t help adding with cold pride, “I have every hope of making the most advantageous, influential connections for them. It is not unrealistic to look to the highest courts in Europe. There are younger royal sons aplenty who could do worse than a connection with the von Sachsens.”

Cordelia had been sacrificed to the pride of lineage. Could she help those two little girls avoid such a destiny? Perhaps—but not by setting herself up openly against her husband. It was time to beat a strategic retreat.

“It is, of course, for their father to decide.” She lowered her eyes.

He said coldly, “These displays of defiance will do you no good, my dear. Do you understand that?” He was determined to hear her submission. He remembered the feel of her slender frailty beneath him during the night. Her resistance that he had overcome so easily. She was young. She would make mistakes. It was for him to correct them.

She would not say it
. The tense silence was as thick and palpable as a blanketing fog.

A knock at the door made them both jump. His hands fell from her arms, and he swung round with a savage “What is it?”

“Viscount Kierston, my lord,” announced Monsieur Brion. Leo entered the library on the announcement with all the informality of an old family friend. He was dressed in black, except for a short riding cloak that this time was lined
in peacock blue. He held his lace-edged gloves in one hand, his other resting almost unconsciously on the hilt of his sword. His eyes were sharp and cold as icicles.

Cordelia’s heart beat fast and her palms were suddenly damp. Would he be looking for Michael’s mark upon her? Would he see some sign of the horrors of that possession? He mustn’t know. She couldn’t bear him to know.

“Prince Michael. Princess von Sachsen. Your servant.” He bowed. Cordelia curtsied. He took her hand and her skin burned with his touch. She raised her eyes for an instant and looked deep into his. She read the question contained in his steady gaze, but she couldn’t answer it. With a polite smile she withdrew her hand and stepped back, turning her eyes away.

“Welcome, Leo. You will drink to our wedding as you were unable to do last night.” Michael took up a decanter of Rhenish wine on the sideboard. “Cordelia, you will join us in a glass.”

It was not a suggestion. Cordelia took the glass of white wine. There was an expectant silence, then Leo raised his glass and said quietly, “To your happiness.”

Cordelia drank the toast, the same polite smile fixed to her lips. She knew he was sincere. He would not wish her unhappiness no matter what lay between them.

Michael smiled and drank deeply. “Thank you, my dear friend.”

Cordelia couldn’t bear it another minute. She put her barely touched glass down. “If you will excuse me, my lords, I have asked the cook and the housekeeper to come to me in my boudoir at noon.”

“There is no need for you to involve yourself in the day-to-day running of the household, madame,” Michael said sharply. “I have already explained your duties. And they do not include consorting with the staff, who know how to manage their own duties perfectly well.”

“You don’t consider it necessary for servants to know their mistress, my lord?”

She was defying him again! Michael couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But he could do nothing in Leo’s presence. He took one menacing step toward her and his eyes blazed. “I have told you what I consider necessary.”

Leo saw the look in her eyes as she seemed to withdraw her body into itself. Elvira had had that same shadow in her eyes. The shadow had appeared at the time he’d noticed that her bubbling laughter was heard less often. But whenever he’d questioned her, she’d put him off, changed the subject, and the shadow had been banished as swiftly as it had appeared, so that he’d never been certain that he’d seen it. Now he knew he had. Cordelia was not so adept at masking her feelings.

“It must be as you wish, my lord.” Cordelia curtsied, her voice tight. “I bid you good day, Viscount Kierston.”

The door closed quietly behind her.

Chapter Twelve

L
EO, HIDING HIS
concern, remained with his brother-in-law for the best part of an hour. Cordelia had already fallen foul of her husband. It didn’t surprise him. Michael had made it clear over the business with Christian that he intended to rule his wife with an iron hand, and Leo knew that Cordelia wouldn’t accept that easily. But what had happened between them to cause that shadow of fear in her eyes? And dear God, had he really seen that same look in Elvira’s eyes?

But Michael saw none of this disturbed conjecture. As usual, Leo chatted inconsequentially about court matters, snippets of gossip, dropping the occasional juicier morsels into the conversation, knowing that the prince had sharp ears for anything useful either to his own diplomacy or to his personal ambition.

Since Elvira’s death Leo had worked hard to give Michael the impression of an idle courtier who loved to play, who knew everyone, was universally liked. A man who could be trusted with Michael’s daughters, an uncle who wouldn’t undermine their father’s authority or attempt to involve himself in decisions concerning them. Michael wouldn’t hesitate to ban Leo from the schoolroom if the uncle’s interest became inconvenient.

Leo’s commitment to watch over Elvira’s children as their mother would have done was one of the driving forces of his life. It was the reason he stayed in Paris instead of returning to his native England. Michael had no emotional attachment to his daughters, but Leo knew that he saw them as diplomatic currency, to be sold to the highest bidder. Leo would fight for their welfare when the time came, but in the meantime he played the benign and harmless uncle. When
Michael looked upon Elvira’s brother, he saw a smiling mouth, slightly hooded eyes, an elegantly dressed form always relaxed. Unlike Cordelia, he saw little or no resemblance to Elvira, but then, he wasn’t looking for it.

And now, Leo thought, he had added Cordelia’s welfare to his responsibilities under Michael’s roof. “So you will be taking the princess to Versailles for the wedding?” He sipped his wine, idly crossing one silk-clad knee over his thigh.

“I have instructed the majordomo to arrange for our removal in three days’ time, when the king’s party returns from Compiègne.”

“I daresay I’ll see you there then.” Leo set down his glass. “The king has most graciously insisted that I attend the ceremony. I suspect at the du Barry’s own insistence.” He laughed lightly, rising to his feet. “His Majesty’s favorite is generous with her favors. It was a signal mark of honor that she attended your wedding yesterday.”

The prince’s expression was dour as he too rose to his feet. “I abhore the fact that in order to rise in the king’s esteem, one must court his whore.”

“But I daresay you will encourage Cordelia to do so,” Leo said with a gentle smile.

Michael shrugged. “She will, of course, be courteous. I see no reason why she should move in the du Barry’s circles, however. There is not the slightest need for it.”

“Quite so.” Leo contented himself with the dry comment. “While I’m here, I’ll take the opportunity to look in upon the girls. It’s been many weeks since I saw them last.”

Prince Michael said coldly, “They are having a busy day, it would seem. Cordelia has already introduced herself to them this morning. I trust their governess will know how much excitement will be good for them.”

Maybe that explained the tension between Michael and his wife. He knew Michael well enough to be sure that he wouldn’t appreciate Cordelia taking matters into her own hands. “I have noticed that Cordelia has a somewhat
impetuous nature,” he said mildly. “But her actions are always prompted by the best motives.”

Michael looked both surprised and annoyed at this comment. He said stiffly, “I daresay.”

Leo let it rest. “Be assured that I shall not overstay my welcome with the girls,” he said with an easy smile, and took his leave.

He made his way via the back stairs to the schoolroom to find it inhabited only by the governess, who rose in some agitation at his arrival. “Mesdames Sylvie and Amelia are with the princess,” she said, curtsying. “I cannot understand why the princess would not wish me to accompany them. It is most irregular and I cannot believe Prince Michael would countenance such lack of ceremony.” For a moment she forgot her animosity toward Viscount Kierston in her eagerness to pour out woeful indignation.

Now what was Cordelia playing at? Leo wondered. He noted the alcohol on the governess’s breath and wondered why Michael had never noticed, but probably the prince never came close enough to his employee to detect it. “How long do you expect them to remain with their stepmother?”

“I have no idea.” The woman threw up her hands. “I was told nothing, merely to send them to Madame’s boudoir at one o’clock. For all I know, they may be dining with her. And what kind of a lesson in consideration is that to teach them? The servants toil up here with the children’s dinner, only to find it’s not wanted. And what of me? Am I to eat my dinner alone in the schoolroom, I ask you? If I’m to be relieved of my charges for a while, there are better things I could be doing than sitting here twiddling my thumbs.”

Leo listened to this impassioned speech with an air of aloof boredom. When Madame had subsided, her cheeks reddening as she realized how she had betrayed herself to one whom she mistrusted and disliked, he said, “I am sure the princess will make her intentions clear to you, madame. You have only to ask her. I have never found her in the least indirect.”

The governess’s flush deepened. “Well, we shall see what the prince has to say,” she muttered.

Leo gave her a cold nod and departed. Cordelia seemed to have created a fair amount of havoc in the short time she’d been in the rue du Bac. She’d made an enemy of the governess, angered her husband, and seemed set upon continuing to do so. She didn’t have Elvira’s subtlety and sophistication, qualities that would have enabled her to get her own way without causing trouble. She was too young and too straightforward.

But had Elvira managed to avoid trouble? The question lurked uneasily in his mind. It had never before occurred to him that his sister couldn’t manage Michael. Leo himself had never liked his sister’s husband. He was too rigid and self-serving, but Elvira had accepted the marriage perfectly willingly. She’d laughed at her brother’s reservations, maintaining that a high position at the court of Versailles was worth a stuffy husband. Elvira had wanted a literary salon of her own. She had been a close friend of Madame de Pompadour and had been seduced by the power and influence that could be wielded by a clever woman at Versailles. She had seen marriage to the Prussian ambassador as her passport to that influence.

Elvira had never met a person she couldn’t manage—in the nicest possible way. And Michael had always appeared a devoted husband. Leo had never had cause to question his treatment of his wife, despite Elvira’s occasionally unusually subdued demeanor. She had always had a plausible reason for it. And he’d certainly never seen Michael chastise Elvira as he had done Cordelia. But no doubt Michael saw his second wife as a child, to be formed, educated. Not an unreasonable viewpoint, considering the difference in their ages. But his harshness was disturbing.