Why Kings Confess

Chapter 48

The Dowager Duchess of Claiborne was famous for never leaving her bedchamber before noon or one o’clock. She was still sipping her hot chocolate in bed when Sebastian walked into the chamber and tossed his hat and driving coat on a chair.

“Do I take it my useless excuse for a butler has simply abandoned all attempts to exclude you?” demanded Henrietta, sitting up straighter.

“Give the man credit; he tried.”

She put up a hand to adjust her bed cap. “What do you want now?”

Sebastian went to warm himself before the fire. “I want to know what you can tell me about Lady Giselle Edmondson.”

“Lady Giselle? Good heavens; whatever for?”

“Humor me.”

“Well, let’s see. .” She frowned thoughtfully. “Her father was the Third Earl of Bandor. Handsome man, but sadly emotional and far too taken with the works of the French philosophes. He moved to Paris shortly after he came down from Oxford, and refused to return home even when his father died and he inherited the title and estates.”

“He married a Frenchwoman?”

“He did. One of Marie Antoinette’s ladies. Giselle spent much of her early childhood at Versailles. She and Marie-Therese were essentially raised together.”

“And then came the Revolution.”

Henrietta set down her chocolate cup with a soft chink. “Yes. Foolish man. He could have left. So many did. But he was convinced he was witnessing something extraordinary.”

“And so he was. Only, not quite what he had anticipated. He and his countess were killed?”

“Yes. Giselle survived, of course, but no trace has ever been found of the two younger children. The boy-who would have been the fourth earl-was declared dead some years ago.”

“So who holds the title now?”

“A cousin.”

“Since the majority of Bandor’s wealth was safe in England, I assume Giselle’s portion survived the Revolution?”

“Oh, yes. She could have married at any time, had she wished.”

“So why didn’t she?”

Henrietta gave him a long, solemn look. “Really, Sebastian; use your imagination. You know what those days were like-the things that were done to gentlewomen. I hear there was even a child, although fortunately it died shortly after birth.”

“I see,” he said softly. And he thought it probably explained much about both Lady Giselle and Marie-Therese.

Henrietta said, “Most of those hanging around the Bourbons are a drain on their resources. But not Giselle. If anything, I suspect she actually helps to support the Princess. They’ve been together ever since Marie-Therese was released from prison.”

“What do you think of her?”

Henrietta pushed out an oddly heavy sigh. “Well. . she’s charming, and pretty, and certainly far more likeable than Marie-Therese.”

“But?” prompted Sebastian.

“Let’s just say I would have been very troubled had one of my own sons wished to wed her.”

“Meaning what?”

But Henrietta only shook her head, reluctant to put her implications into words.

• • •

Ambrose LaChapelle was inspecting a tray of imported laces in a small shop on Bond Street when Hero descended from her carriage and bore down upon him.

“Walk up the street with me a ways, monsieur,” she said, smiling. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

He cast a quick, apprehensive glance at her swollen belly, then looked away. “Can you walk?”

“Of course I can walk. I promise, I’ve no intention of delivering in the middle of Bond Street, so you needn’t look so alarmed.”

He raised his chin and twisted it to one side, as if his neckcloth had suddenly become too tight. “Why me?”

“I’ve just discovered something extraordinary. And in thinking it over, I’ve decided you’re probably the most likely person to be able to explain it to me.”

“I don’t believe I like the sound of that,” said the French courtier.

But Hero simply gave a tight, determined smile and bore him inexorably up the street.