“I’m fine.” I nodded, smiling faintly.
I then stood up with Toulouse in my one arm, grabbing Lucien’s hand with the other, and I led him to my bedchamber. I didn’t bother to close the door, placing Toulouse down on the bed. Lucien took off his red and gold justaucorps, tossing it on the chair by the secrétaire on the far side of the room.
I stood in the middle of the room, biting at my thumb lightly. My eyes stared blankly at the floor.
He turned to me, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Are you all right?”
I looked at him, nodding slowly. My eyes filled with tears. “I want to go home.”
He pulled me into his arms, nodding and kissing the top of my head.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It was Saturday evening, and I sat in my bedchamber on the bed under the blankets. A cool draft somehow seeped into the room. I stayed in my nightgown for the better part of the week, only changing when Lucien came by to join me for either dinner or supper.
We sat in my room as I dozed on him, occasionally playing with Toulouse or speaking of the impending meeting between myself and his grandmother—the soiree she would no doubt throw to introduce me to the rest of Lucien’s family and friends.
I dreaded that evening. Lucien was well aware of my feelings on showing my face in public. He and Rose assured me that no one could figure out which woman I was, even with Constanze’s helpful hints, which left her in nothing but frustration. No one could remember, like a spell from a fairytale. I was still worried they would see me, and it would all come floating back to them. Was I truly that invisible? I didn’t want to put it to the test.
I sighed as Lucien walked into the room, wearing some of his finest attire. His black justaucorps had golden, embroidered designs swirling up the trim with diamonds and gemstones set in it. The collar was flat, as it was formal. He had a very dark, golden damask waistcoat beneath, cream-colored breeches, and shiny gold buckles on his shoes.
He looked me over before his brow furrowed, confused. “Are you not ready?”
I looked to him, shrugging. “Ready for what?”
“I told Rose to help get you ready for this evening. We are going to the l’Opéra.”
“What? Lucien—”
He stepped toward me, raising my chin up so he could look into my eyes. “Yes, the l’Opéra. We are to go out formally as a couple, as we should have from the beginning. They all know, Madeleine. My grandmother will be there, and she is eager to formally meet you.”
“She doesn’t think me a harlot?” I grumbled, looking down at Toulouse. He sat on top of me lazily.
“No,” he said. “In fact, she was quite pleased when I reminded her of who you are. You should have seen the delighted smile that crossed her and the good ten-minute gush about how beautiful and lovely you are and how she must meet you, again.”
I smiled, sighing heavily once again. I was still feeling ill from crying, and I was unsure if I could take the opera in happily.
He kissed my forehead, turning me toward the door. “Now, I will get Rose to help you get ready.”
My heart beat wildly as we pulled up. The jolt from the driver jumping down rattled me. Lucien took hold of my hand, smiling to me reassuringly. If anyone could calm me, it was Lucien. Though, at this moment, there was nothing that would calm my heart or the dread that ached painfully within me.
We pulled up to the Palais Royale, which was the large, sparkling palace of the Duc d’Orleans—the richest family in France. They were descended from the Sun King, Louis XIV’s younger brother Philippe, and therefore Princes of the Blood.
It was where the see-and-be-seen performances were held for the courtiers and those who could afford such a night of luxury. As I heard, the King himself did not attend such performances. In fact, he barely stepped outside of Versailles. Operas and little, theatrical events took place in the palace theatre in Versailles, which had been renovated in honor of the new Dauphine, Marie-Antoinette.
The driver opened the door, Lucien stepping out first and holding his hand out for mine. He helped me out as I grabbed hold of the pink charmeuse skirt of my gown. I went against my initial decision of wearing the white gown that I had. I could already think of the horrid things people would say about my choice of color.
Not very becoming of a harlot, is it?
I chose for my robe à la Française a soft, slightly darker pink than my usual, burgundy ruffles around the neckline and down the bodice in an upside-down “V” pattern, and the same ruffles edging the open robe of the gown. A black gossamer bow was on the center of the neckline with the long ends brushing against it, and black sequins in a line underneath. The sleeves had the same dark burgundy ruffles on the sleeves and yards of frothy, white lace.
The only jewelry I wore were the earrings Lucien gave me for my birthday. They were extravagant and worth a fortune. No doubt a family heirloom, but I knew it pleased him, and I still wanted to please him, despite what anyone said about it.
My cloak matched me this evening, swinging around me. It was an immense weight on my shoulders that my mind kept slipping to, even as I stepped out of the large carriage.
As soon as my slippers hit the ground, many women and men that were lounging around in the large, closed-off courtyard of sprawling gardens stopped and looked at me.
I gazed up at the building stretching up before me. Windows glittering everywhere, even along the roof. The building was almost a duplicate of the one in Versailles. The section in the center had three windows and a large clock that stared at me like a great eye.
From what I understood, Palais Royale was not just a place to take in the arts. There were gardens, cafes, shops, gambling dens, a bookseller and print shops, fancy boutiques, and, of course, prostitutes milling around the area and calling out for new customers.
Lucien held out his arm to me. My eyes went to him as I swallowed hard, my stomach churning. He looked at his arm as I took hold of it, leading me through the large columns to a grand hallway where hundreds of people in all colors stood, chatting happily. Their conversations mixed together into a roar of chatter. Several ushers in powdered bagwigs ran to us, grabbing our cloaks and bustling off.
“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Lucien asked, turning to me and pointing to our right. “Grandma-ma is awaiting us in her box.”
A valet bowed before us, leading us throughout the grand palace to the theatre, where he brought us to a long hall with a row of red, velvet curtains. As soon as I saw them, my heart beat wildly. I couldn’t even imagine the people who sat behind these curtains.
We nearly got to the end of row before the valet stopped at one specific box, pulling the curtain aside for us. Lucien’s grandmother sat in the middle of the box, shrouded in black, her widow’s weeds, a young woman seated beside her. She turned to us, smiling. She closed her fan before holding out her free hand to Lucien.
“There you are,” she said, though she didn’t rise. She sat there as Lucien walked up to her, kissing her hand and nodding to the young lady to her left. The old woman smiled to her grandson, looking him over. “You look…where is your wig?”
Lucien smirked, pointing to me. As I stepped forward, I almost tripped over my own feet. “I promised Madeleine I would not wear it. Mademoiselle Madeleine Dumont, this is my grandmother, Madame la Comtesse Marie-Hélène de Laurent and her attending lady, Amélie.”
I looked to the old woman as she held her hand out to me shakily.
“You are just as beautiful as I remember.” Her worn face smiled up at me. “Look at you. Have you ever been to a court performance?”
I shook my head, looking to Lucien before I looked back to her. “I am not of the right station.”
She patted my hand, which was still in hers. “Ah, nonsense. I demand that you attend with me each week.”
I couldn’t help smiling. Lucien pulled me away and pointed to my seat—an elegant, brocade armchair that overlooked the immense stage. As soon as I sat down, I looked aroun
d the golden, two-tiered theatre—all the boxes lining the sides, various people taking their seats, and most faces not familiar to me. Though, they certainly knew who I was. They were staring, pointing, turning, and speaking to each other. I was obviously an object of interest.
Lucien sat beside me to my right, leaving me in the middle of him and his grandmother. My whole body went still as my eyes bounced around, looking at all the faces.
“They all are speaking of me,” I said quietly. Lucien was the only one who heard me, and he turned and leaned into me.
“Why shouldn’t they? Look how beautiful you are. I am sure they are quite envious.” His dark blue eyes comforted me slightly, though I knew why they were really speaking of me.
“I know what they think…” I trailed off, looking down at my hands.
Lucien leaned on his arm, turning toward me. “Madeleine, do you know how long it has been since I sat in this box with my grandmother? Or yet, how long it has been since I sat in this box with a beautiful woman and my grandmother?”
I shook my head.
“A very long time, my love. A very long time. If anything, they are only going to talk about how long it has been since I have had a woman and inquire as to who you are.” He smiled lightly. “I am sure that the Vicomtesse Constanze de Guillaume’s little claws do not reach as far as the whole of France and its aristocracy. If anything, they are going to speak of my coming out into society once again—something I have not done since I was merely thirteen and suddenly stopped at age twenty.”
“Why not attend? You could have with your grandmother,” I said, pointing around the little box.
“The last relationship I had ended quite abruptly, because the lady was keen on acquiring my status, not my heart. I entertained her, found out about her dealings, and decided I was going to leave these people behind.” He looked into my eyes, taking a moment before he licked his lips; a sudden wash of pink came over them before it disappeared. “You should just enjoy the performance. Do not think about them. Do not think about what they say or why. Just enjoy us being together, out in public, doing as we please.”
I smiled lightly, my face blushing as I looked down at my hands.
“What?” He smiled.
“I want to kiss you, but I am scared to.” I put my hands over my face.
He smiled as he leaned toward me, pulling my hands away and kissing me lightly on the lips. Then, he pulled my hand up and kissed the back of it.
I barely paid attention to the performance. Lucien’s grandmother, who I was asked call to Grandma-ma as well, kept my attention. She asked me about the country and how I was enjoying Paris.
She looked at my ears, nodding to them. “Those were Lucien’s mother’s. They look beautiful on you. I am sure she would have loved seeing them on you.”
I grabbed hold of one of the earrings, feeling the diamonds beneath my fingertips. “I didn’t know if it was appropriate for me to wear them this evening.”
“It is always appropriate. They are yours now,” she said, smiling. Her dark blue eyes were much the same as Lucien’s, twinkling like his did upon occasion.
“I am scared of what people will say.” I pursed my lips together as I looked down at my hands.
She shook her head. “What does it matter? Tomorrow, they will find something new to speak of. Perhaps it will be about you, or perhaps it will be about someone else. It does not matter what they say, especially when you are with such a man as Lucien.”
I smiled and looked at him as he watched the opera down below, leaning on the arm of his chair closest to me. I turned back to her, nodding. “You are right.”
“You make him truly happy. Now, if only you could make sure he wore his wig to functions,” she said while pointing at me.
I smiled. “I think that is a lost battle.”
She smiled at me, nodding. “Perhaps, but it does not hurt to try. Especially with a face like yours.”
I laughed lightly—the first time I had genuinely laughed in the last week.
“You two are not laughing at me, I should hope.” Lucien turned to us, the music slowly fading out down below as people stood and clapped.
I shook my head. “Of course not.”
“Would we do such a thing?” his grandmother said, smiling as her nurse helped her stand. She clapped as Lucien and I followed.
We said our goodbyes and prepared to leave before everyone else to avoid anyone stopping us to question us. We made our way out, going at a good pace until Constanze came out from one of the booths, stopping in front of us and blocking our path.
“Leaving so soon?” She smiled wickedly.
Lucien stood up straight, holding my hand tightly at the crook of his arm. “Yes, we want to beat the rush.”
“You aren’t going to stay for some gambling of the sort?” She kept firm in her place.
We shook our heads, pushing her aside gently as we walked past her.
“I knew it,” she called out.
We both stopped in our tracks. I turned to her, “So? Yes, you knew. You called it. I am the lady that Lucien has been seeing. Are you satisfied?”
“Not quite.” She glared at us. “I will not be satisfied until you fall.”
“What makes you think that with my title I cannot easily catch her?” Lucien asked, turning to Constanze.
“There will be nothing to stop the shatter that will come from your actions, Madeleine. Just you wait—”
“Can the souls of these villains not let us breathe in peace?” Lucien called out, walking up to her. “I will not have you speak to her that way. You may be Vicomtesse, Madame, but I can assure you that your own fall can come just as easily as anyone else’s. If I am pushed far enough, I will make sure that it is delivered to you on swift wings.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said slowly.
“You have crossed me before Madame. I did nothing about it then. I will not be as kind if you cross me, again.”
Lucien turned to me, his hand out for mine. “Are you ready to take our leave, my love?”
I nodded timidly, licking my lips as I took his hand. Lucien and I walked along as more people exited their boxes. We were quiet all the way to the carriage, and inside the carriage itself was rather quiet. It rocked back and forth as I turned to him, swallowing hard. “What did you mean?”
He looked at me, stunned I had spoken. “What did I mean?”
“With Constanze. You said she had crossed you, and you had been kind to her before by not doing anything about it. What did she do?”
“The woman I was seeing, the one that caused me to become known as the Recluse, was Constanze. To punish me for breaking with her, she brought forth rumors and spread them. ‘No one breaks with her.’ That is what she said. Now, she is even angrier. She will forever be a simple Vicomtesse, married to the wrong brother.”
I looked down at my hands, “You didn’t do anything about it?”
“What could I do?” he asked. “At the time, I was just a Vicomte. My grandfather was only ill. He had not yet passed. Constanze was climbing the ladder quite steadily, even without me and my title. She had a great many friends.”
“So, that is why you wouldn’t go to any of Constanze’s parties,” I said, it finally dawning on me.
He nodded. “Also, ‘the Recluse’ was a nickname Constanze had given me, something that caught on quite easily.”
I turned to him, grabbing his hand. “They cannot say it anymore, and now, you are Comte. They do not matter, anyway.”
He smiled. “You sound like Grandma-ma.”
“Do you think she liked me?” I smiled.
He nodded. “I think she adores you. Just as I do.” He leaned toward me, kissing me on the cheek.
He was much more talkative the rest of the journey to Rose’s apartments, speaking of anything but Constanze and their brief relationship—something I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know about. Eventually, the carriage came to a halt. The air was still humid as we stepped out and m
ade our way up to Rose’s apartments.
As we walked in the door, I looked around. “Rose?”
Yvonne walked out of the salon and into the foyer. “She has gone out for the evening and asked me to tell you that she will not be back until the late hours of the night.”
I looked to Lucien. “Oh. Well, thank you for giving us that message.”
She curtsied and took my cloak and Lucien’s hat. Both of us walked into the parlor and stopped. Toulouse strolled inside, looking to us sleepily.
“Seems we are alone,” I said. “Save for Toulouse, that is.”
Lucien smiled and looked down at him. “He has grown quite a bit, hasn’t he? He takes up far too much space, now.”
I turned and bent down to the cat, picking him up in my arms. “He is not too big. He is perfect. Aren’t you, Monsieur?”
Lucien shook his head, following me as I turned to my left, found my way through the dining room and turned to my left again, into my bedchamber, for my stay. I placed Toulouse down on the bed. His immediate reaction to such a thing was to lie down comfortably for a moment before he turned and decided to jump down.
Lucien took off his justaucorps and threw it carelessly onto the little, red brocade chair by the secrétaire, which was beside an elaborate vanity. He then turned to me, grabbing my hands and pulling me toward him. His lips caught mine for a moment before he pulled away from me, tilting his head to my right before kissing me, again. His hands came up to my face and caressed my cheek, jaw, and a little bit of my neck as my own hands gently grabbed hold of his.
There was no rush in our kisses. Everything was as slow as it had started out to be. Stars exploded before me as his hands fell to my chest and down my side, reaching around my waist. My arms came up around his neck, holding onto him, and our kisses never seemed to end or break away from each other, at least not for more than a moment.
Everything was slow. We didn’t need to worry about anyone bursting in on us or “finding out” that I had Lucien in my bedchamber. He could stay the night if he wished.
Affaire de Coeur Page 39