Jane Feather: The Diamond Slipper

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 Abbe Vermond, the archbishop of Toulouse, who tutored both Cordelia and Marie Antoinette. Cordelia never stumbled. She took great pleasure 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 body remembered the imprint of his through the light muslin of her gown, when her lips remembered the cool pliancy of his mouth, when her tongue remembered the taste of his mouth, she was awash with pulsing longing that she knew she should consider shameful, and yet she could find within herself not one iota of guilt or shame. It was pure exciting pleasure.

She glanced sideways at Toinette's fair head bent over her books. The archduchess was doodling in the margin of the text, idle scribbles of birds and flowers. She yawned, delicately covering her mouth with her fair white hand, her boredom palpable in the warm room filled with spring sunshine.

Had Toinette ever felt these strange stirrings, this heady flush of an unknown promise? Cordelia was certain she hadn't. Toinette would have confided such mysterious longings to her friend.

There was a knock at the door. Toinette sat up, blinking the daze from her eyes. Cordelia looked over with only mild curiosity at the flunky who stood in the doorway. "Lady Cordelia is summoned immediately to the empress."

"What could my mother want with you?" Toinette asked, frowning. "Why would she see you without me?"

"I can't imagine." Cordelia wiped her quill carefully and laid it on the blotter beside the inkstand. Such a summons was unprecedented, but one didn't keep the empress waiting. "If you would excuse me, mon pere." She curtsied to the archbishop and went to the door. The flunky bowed her out and escorted her to the empress's audience chamber, although she knew the way perfectly well.

She entered the audience chamber, her eyes swiftly taking in those present. A quiver of shock and surprise went through her at the sight of the English viscount standing behind the empress's chair. Dropping her eyes, she made a deep obeisance to the empress and thus missed the expression in the viscount's eyes. Her uncle, his gouty leg propped on a footstool, his hand resting on the silver knob of his cane, gave her a curt nod.

Leo turned aside, struggling to regain his composure. This was Cordelia Brandenburg! No simpering debutante but a mischievous, challenging, and sensual young woman. Just as Elvira had been before her marriage.

"Cordelia, my dear, your uncle has arranged a most advantageous match for you," the empress said without preamble. "Prince Michael von Sachsen is the Prussian ambassador to the court of Versailles. As his wife, you will take your place in that court, and you will be able to remain as friend and companion for Marie Antoinette."

Cordelia's mind whirled. She couldn't immediately take it in. She was to be married as well as Toinette? They would be going to France together? It was too good to be true- that she might be free of her uncle's tyrannical rule and the confines of the Austrian court. And live instead in that glittering palace of Versailles, in the fairy-tale world of the French court.

"Viscount Kierston, the prince's brother-in-law, will stand proxy for your wedding, which will take place the day after the archduchess's proxy marriage to the dauphin." Her uncle was speaking now in his flat assertive tones.

Leo turned slowly back to the room. Cordelia stared at him. "You… you are to be my husband." She didn't know what she was saying, the words spoke themselves.

"Proxy, child… proxy," the empress corrected sharply. "Prince Michael von Sachsen is to be your husband."

"Yes… yes, of course." But Cordelia barely heard the empress. She looked at the viscount and a warm river of excitement gushed through her veins. She couldn't put words to its cause; it seemed to spring from some bubbling source existing both in her mind and in her loins. It was as strange and terrifying a sensation as it was wonderful.

She smiled at Leo and the look in her eyes was so nakedly sensual that Leo was afraid that the others in the room would see it and wouldn't fail to read it correctly. He stepped forward, drawing something from his pocket.

"I have a betrothal gift from Prince Michael, Lady Cordelia. He kept his voice toneless and he avoided meeting her eye as he placed a small package in her hand. "You will also find a miniature of the prince." He stepped back, out of her line of sight.

Cordelia opened the flat velvet box and unwrapped the tissue. She withdrew a gold, pearl-studded charm bracelet and held it up to the light of the window. The jeweled charms swung together in the slight breeze.

"Very pretty," approved the empress.

Leo frowned. He hadn't thought to wonder about the prince's betrothal present. It had seemed unimportant. But the bracelet had been Elvira's, a gift from her husband on the birth of the twins. His mouth thinned. Michael kept a tight hold on his pursestrings, but to give a new wife a gift from a dead one seemed insensitive to say the least.