The Mask Revealed (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 2) (31 page)

She rose, as did Henri, and curtseyed.

“Your Majesty,” she said, her face flaming.

“Please, be seated,” he said, joining them. Henri felt a sharp pang of sympathy for this forthright girl, and realised that he liked her far more than he should. In his profession it was essential to remain detached. Nevertheless…

“We were just discussing Milton, Your Majesty,” he said.

“No,” Louis replied. “You were discussing frivolous displays of wealth.” He was not going to be deflected. The thin ice creaked around Beth’s feet.

“I was not speaking of any particular man, Your Majesty,” she replied. “Sometimes displays of wealth are necessary to show the great power of a nation, and thus ensure that others will think twice before attacking it. Such a display may be wise, if it results in peace for the people. I was explaining this only recently to an acquaintance of mine.”

“Would this acquaintance be your husband, by any chance?” Louis replied.

“No. My husband enjoys displays of wealth for their own sake, as I am sure you have noticed, Sire.”

“He is much taken with Versailles, is he not? He loses no opportunity to say so.”

“He does indeed find the palace extremely beautiful.”

Henri wondered how she would deflect the next comment –
but you, who despise wealth, do not.

“He is rare among his countrymen, from what I have heard. They think nothing of royal display and find their boorish king worthy of loyalty, who stumps about his ragged palace like a peasant, disdaining beauty and learning.” The king’s remark took Henri by surprise. Looking at the woman, he saw she too had been taken aback. He saw her select and reject a number of responses to Louis’ unexpected comment.

“I cannot speak for my husband, Your Majesty,” she replied carefully after a moment. “But as for my fellow Britons, I think that if you were to visit our country, you would find that learning is held in high regard, and that many would welcome a visit from a king who possessed intellect and knowledge.”

“Ah. You think then that I would be welcome, if I were to pay a call on St. James’s?” Louis’ tone was casual, amused.

“Indeed, Your Majesty, I think you would meet with a positive reception in London, if you came for the right reasons.” So was Beth’s.

“Are you then loyal to your king, Lady Elizabeth?”

“Loyalty must be earned, Your Majesty. It cannot be bought,” came the evasive reply.

Henri looked away and half rose as if to leave. Louis waved him back into his seat, without taking his eyes off Beth.

“There are many who would disagree with you on that. You are loyal to your husband, Henri tells me.”

“Yes, I am,” Beth replied.

“You are from a noble, but impoverished family, I believe. And he is a man of some wealth, is he not?”

“Yes, but that is not why I married him, or why I am loyal to him,”

Louis nodded.

“If I may be so bold as to ask, why are you then loyal to him?”

“Because he delivered me from evil, Your Majesty, and I owe him a great deal,” she answered, meeting his dark brown scrutiny unwaveringly.

The king smiled. He was handsome when he smiled. The ice remained firm under her feet.

“I see you will not be led into temptation, no matter how I try. You were right, Henri. I will leave you to your discussion of Milton.” He rose, and they with him. They made their obeisance and he moved on. Beth sank down on to her seat. She looked tired, as well she might. Henri decided to steer the conversation into smoother waters.

“What did he mean, you were right?” she asked before he could find a trivial topic.

“I told him last night that I did not think you would betray your husband for him. I advised him to seek another to replace Marguerite, of whom he is tiring.”

“Poor Marguerite,” said Beth.

“Do not feel sorry for her. She has brought it on herself. She has forgotten to be grateful that the king has raised her, and thinks she can maintain her position without any effort.” He dismissed Marguerite with a shrug. “Do you really believe the king would receive a positive reception from your countrymen if he were to visit London?” he said. His tone, like Louis’, was casual. His scrutiny was not.

“I do not think it likely that he will get the chance to find out,” she said lightly. “King George will hardly invite him to St. James’s. France and England are on opposing sides over the Austrian succession. They are enemies.”

On the other side of the disturbing fountain of Enceladus, which showed an agonised gilded giant half crushed beneath rocks, she saw her husband, a splash of orange, enter the grove. She stood.

“I must thank you, Monsieur Monselle,” she said. “Life at Court will be easier for me, now that the king has given up his pursuit. Or will we no longer be invited?”

“You will still be invited. The king likes you, as do I, and is amused by Sir Anthony, as am I. I look forward to our next conversation. You do not need to thank me. It is refreshing to meet a virtuous woman. Your worth is indeed above rubies.”

He meant it. It was a delight to converse with her, and he thought she also enjoyed their conversations. She must be starved for intellectual debate, being married to such a man as Sir Anthony. Henri, seeing the man approach, pausing to exchange pleasantries with his many new acquaintances as he came, stood as well, and bowing to her, walked away, a graceful, athletic figure. She watched him go, her face momentarily troubled, then pasting a tolerant expression on her face turned to greet her husband, who was mincing up the path towards her.

* * *

Although they entered the hotel foyer together, by the time Beth managed to escape the clutches of Lady Winter and gain the safety of the room, Sir Anthony, who Beth had last seen as a flash of tangerine scampering gleefully up the stairs, had effected the transformation into Alex, and was sitting at the escritoire writing a letter. He was dressed only in breeches and shirt, his unbound hair falling forward over his face as he worked.

“Thanks,” said Beth crossly, throwing her cloak at the nearest chair, and missing. “Next time you need my help to get away from Wilhelmina or Anne, or anyone else that bores you silly, before I dive in to help you, I’ll bear in mind that you threw me to the lions tonight.”

“You did well enough without me,” he replied mildly without looking up from his task. “Ye’ve only been an hour. Be thankful I didna tell them I’ve managed to get them an invitation to the concert on Monday. Ye’d have been there discussing appropriate Court wear till the morning.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” she said. “Court dress codes are Sir Anthony’s department, not mine. Why have you done that then?” She kicked off her shoes.

He stopped writing for a minute.

“I’m doing it for Anne, mainly, to give her a wee bit of excitement,” he said. “I feel sorry for the lassie. All she wants is to be married. It wouldna greatly matter who the man was. Just knowing she was capable of attracting a man would do wonders for her self confidence. She’s nae personality of her own, and takes her cue from whichever man she’s with. It’s awfu’ confusing for her. If she had a husband, she’d be able to devote herself just to him. But she’s no chance, and she minds it well, though she tries not to show it. That’s why she’s so unhappy. Her family willna let her marry beneath herself, and she hasna the looks, brains or money to marry otherwise.”

Beth considered for a moment.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. I must confess, I hadn’t really thought about her beyond finding her a pest.” She felt guilty now, in the face of Alex’s perception and altruism. “It’s very kind of you to think of her. She’ll enjoy the evening. Louis is hiring a full orchestra, I believe.”

“Aye,” he said, smiling. “It’ll give her life a wee bit of colour, give her something to talk about when she gets home. And I warn you now, so ye dinna take it amiss on the night; I mean to pay her a lot of attention on Monday, give her an evening to remember.”

Beth’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she looked at her husband.

“Are ye jealous?” he asked smilingly, misinterpreting her look.

“No,” she said. “I know Anne’s not trying to make a serious play for you. She craves attention, that’s all. It’s not that. You had me there for a minute. I really thought you’d invited her and the Winters for purely unselfish reasons. What are you up to?”

The dark blue eyes were round, innocent.

“Me?” he said. “Maybe I’m just trying to make ye a wee bit jealous. After all, it’s no’ easy, seeing a handsome man fawning over your wife and being unable tae do anything about it.”

“Oh, that,” she said, coming over to where he was sitting, and presenting her back to him. She allowed him to evade the question, temporarily. “I can put your mind at rest on that. Louis isn’t interested in me any more. Henri told him I was not to be won round, and he’s accepted it. He told me so himself, today.”

Alex reached up and unhooked the back of her dress, before untying the laces of her stays. She expanded her ribs and drew in a great breath of air, blissfully.

“It’s no’ Louis I’m talking about. You seem to be on very friendly terms with Monsieur Monselle. He’s verra handsome, is he no’?”

Before his recent jealous outburst she would have teased him for a while before laying his fears to rest. She searched his face for clues. His expression was neutral. She had no way of knowing whether he was really concerned about Henri’s attentions or not.

“You did ask me to get friendly with him,” she pointed out. “To try to find out as much as I could about him. You can hardly complain now that I have. And anyway, he’s not interested in me at all, I can assure you of that. Or any woman, for that matter. He spent a good half hour today trying to get information out of me about your handsome manservant. It seems Angus has made another conquest.”

“Have I?” said the handsome manservant, who had chosen that moment to enter. He was clearly very pleased with himself about something, if the ear to ear grin was anything to go by.

“Did ye manage it?” asked Alex.

“Aye, nae problem at all. What’s this conquest I’ve made, then? Is she beautiful?”

“If you like your conquests tall and slender with bright green eyes and thick black wavy hair, then this could be the one for you,” Beth said. Alex dipped his head, allowing his hair to fall over his face, hiding his smile. Angus’s grin expanded.

“Lead me to her,” he said eagerly. “What’s her name, then?”

“Monselle,” Beth replied. “Henri Monselle.”

“What?” The grin disappeared abruptly. Beth and Alex both burst out laughing.

“It seems he’s seen you several times in the courtyard, and once hanging around the servant’s quarters, looking for your fictitious cousin,” Beth explained. “He’s quite taken with you. I told him I’d bring the subject up and see if you were interested.” Another giggle escaped. Angus glared at her.

“Ugh,” he said expressively, shuddering. “I mean, it’s nice to be irresistible an’ all, but…ugh, no. Ye didna tell him I
would
be interested, did ye?”

“You surely don’t think I’d do that?” Beth asked.

“I wouldna put anything past you, if you thought it would cause me embarrassment, no,” Angus replied. His look was dark, threatening dire consequences if she had.

“Relax,
mo bhrathair,
” Alex interposed. “She hasna forgotten Henri’s no’ a matter for jest, even if you have. She was reassuring me that in spite of all the time they’re spending together, our marriage isna in danger.”

“Is he really a molly, then, or were ye just jestin’ wi’ me?” Angus asked.

“No,” said Beth, serious now. “He is. But he’s discreet. That’s why Louis employs him to procure mistresses for him, I think. He knows there’s no danger Henri will want to sample the wares first.”

“No, molly or no, friend Henri’s too busy helping himself to Louis’ private correspondence to be interested in his mistresses. Let’s have a look, then,” Alex said.

Angus delved into his coat pocket, producing a small wooden box. He opened it. Inside was a block of wax. Beth moved closer to the two men to see. Indented in the soft yellow tallow was the perfect outline of a key.

“Henri’s room key,” Angus said proudly.

“How did you manage that?” Beth asked, impressed.

“Jeanne cleans the rooms of the gentlemen of the bedchamber. I managed to persuade her to let me accompany her this morning. Henri’s bed is awfu’ soft,” he said, nostalgically.

Alex thrust his fingers through his hair.

“Christ, man, will ye never learn? Ye were supposed to get in and out as fast as ye could, no’ tumble the wench in his bed! What if the man had come back for something?”

“Aye well, ye didna specify what I was to get in and out of.” Angus grinned. “I was following your instructions, in a manner of speaking. And I had tae give her a wee reward for letting me into his room.”

Alex inhaled sharply through his nose.

“Did ye manage to see anything other than the bed while ye were wasting this golden opportunity?” he asked, rubbing his hand through his hair again.

“Oh, aye, what d’ye take me for?” Seeing that Alex was about to say exactly what he did take him for, Angus hurried on. “Jeanne canna read, ye see. Which is why Henri sees no reason tae hide all his personal correspondence when he goes out of a morning. Have ye a pen and paper to hand?”

Alex’s expression changed. He turned hurriedly back to the desk, laid his letter aside and took up a fresh sheet. He dipped his pen and waited.

“’Dearest Aunt Mary,’” Angus began, eyes closed, hands behind his back like a schoolboy reciting a poem to the class. “I am very well at present, and am greatly enjoying my stay in France. It came as a great surprise to me to learn that Cornelius is to be married to Annabelle. Indeed I think it a most unsuitable match, and feel the lady’s father will reconsider when in possession of all the facts regarding the suitor. If indeed it is not merely a figment of his imagination. He is a most fanciful young man, and I will try to find out the facts of the case. I did think myself settled for the winter in Paris, but find myself homesick for England. I have it in mind to bring you a surprise present and will stay until it is ready. Of course, you know nothing of this, but I am sure you will be delighted, and will appreciate its exquisite workmanship. I will say no more, but remain, your loving nephew, Martin.’”