Louisa Rawlings Read Online Free PDF Page B

the world to see!  
    Ah, well. She laughed softly. She had never given herself, had never fallen in love. Nor ever would, she supposed. Let her father have his indulgences; it was up to her to make a good match and save him—and Sans-Souci—if she could.  
    She blew out her candle and pulled back the coverlet of her bed. She frowned. She’d forgotten to close the casement; the room would be cold and damp by morning. Why the king had chosen to build his splendid palace on the site of a marsh, she would never understand. She crossed to the window. On an impulse, she knelt and leaned her arms on the sill, gazing out into the night. Here and there in the vast park she could see couples strolling, their way lighted by torches set along the paths. Lovers, who stopped now and again to kiss. A sudden breeze blew in at the window, caressing her cheek. It smelled of spring, the sweetness of rebirth, the promise of summer. She felt a yearning to be down there in that park with a man who whispered soft words of love and held her in his arms and kissed her. A man who asked for no more than her own love in return. A love that would burn more brightly than those torches.  
    Then Tintin laughed beyond the closed door—a carefree laugh that snapped her back to reality. No! What was she thinking of? She must marry to their advantage. There was no other way. Love, if it came, would be a boon.  
    But, oh! how her heart ached. She bent her head to her arms. In the soft darkness, with no one to see or hear, she allowed herself the luxury of tears.  

Chapter Two
    “Lazy child, will you sleep away the day?”  
    Rouge grunted and shook off the insistent hand on her shoulder. “Go away, Tintin,” she mumbled.  
    “But I’ve brought you breakfast.”  
    She yawned and sat up, blinking at the morning sun that streamed through the garret window. She smiled at her father, taking from him a large sweetcake studded with currants. “Will wonders never cease? I was prepared to content myself with the remains of last night’s supper—cold and stale. Where did you get this?”  
    “At his invitation, I took breakfast with Monsieur de Bleyle. I told him that my pious Marie-Rouge had not allowed herself a sweetcake since before Lent. He insisted on giving me a basketful for your enjoyment.” Chrétien laughed. “I think he’s taken a fancy to me, as a jolly companion, since the night we…entertained two soubrettes .”  
    Rouge frowned. “The lecherous pig.”  
    “Have a little charity, my sweet. Your own father wasn’t entirely blameless that night!”  
    “But you didn’t have a wife waiting at home. And you didn’t take mistresses while Maman lived.”  
    “Your mother was all the woman I needed. Now, eat your cake while I tell you the rest of my story. It’s been a most entertaining morning! When we were through eating, the Duc de Bleyle took me along with him to the king’s lever. Bleyle, you know, is in favor at the moment, and has the privilege of the grand entrée, the right to be present in the king’s bedchamber upon his majesty’s first arising. Mon Dieu, the man has even seen the king upon his chaise percée !”  
    She snorted. “I cannot imagine myself being enthralled with the sight of a man on his chamber pot! Even the king! Why the courtiers at Versailles make such a to-do, I’ll never know.”  
    “’Tis a great honor, nonetheless. At any rate, after the king had said his prayers, the rest of us were admitted to his chamber to watch him enjoy a light repast of bread and wine. After that, we watched him dress. Bleyle was privileged to hand the king his left glove—a singular honor!” Tintin’s eyes shone. “But I must tell you now, daughter, that I was more honored than he this morning. For as he left the grand lever the king smiled at me and stopped. I bowed my finest bow. ‘Sire,’ I said. ‘Are you not the Marquis de Tournières?’ he said. ‘The same, Sire,’ I answered. ‘You have a