Becoming Josephine (11 page)

“A female dog, indeed. The Queen scampers around her harem like a bitch in heat!” a thin man with gold-rimmed glasses added. Their laughter bellowed.

“The dauphin is sickly. Poor bastard. He pays the price for his mother’s bawdiness.”

What bravado they possessed—to call the Queen such a name in public! The idiots! Someone could report such a statement and they would find themselves imprisoned, or worse.

I scooted across the room to Claire, who flirted with a man I had never seen.

“Rose, darling.” Her hand made a sweeping gesture. “Monsieur Jacques, may I present Rose de Beauharnais.”

“I was just leaving to search out a cigar,” he replied. “Mademoiselle Pellier, it was a pleasure.”

Claire showed a perfect smile, the gleam in her eye full of unspoken taunting.

Lord, she had a way with men.

“
À plus tard
,” she cooed.

“You have met a man already?” I teased.

“Of course.” Dimples popped from their hiding places in her cheeks. “Speaking of men, the gentleman in navy is staring at you.”

I opened my fan and pretended to look past the dark-haired gentleman. He caught my eye and started in my direction.

Claire elbowed me hard in the ribs. “Maybe this time you should do more than flirt. It’s time,
mon amie
.”

I regarded his chiseled chin and aquiline nose. “He’s not handsome, exactly, but there is something attractive about him. He seems . . . self-assured.”

“Well, yes. He’s rich and has loads of women vying for his attention.”

“Who is he?”

“The Duc de Bordeaux. He’s not married.”

“Maybe he isn’t interested in women at all.”

“Ha! I doubt that.”

“
Bonsoir
, ladies.” The duke bowed. “I couldn’t help but notice the most beautiful women in the room.”

“You flatter us, monsieur,” I said, fluttering my fan.

“I wanted to invite you
à la chasse
and an evening of dining next week. At the château I’ve rented in town.”

“Perhaps we’ll see you there.” I gave him a coy look.

“Splendid.” He grinned. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to. Enjoy your evening.”

“I haven’t hunted in ages!”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” I reached for a flute of champagne. “I can’t kill an animal!”

“I assure you we’ll not see the prey at all. We’ll ride behind the others.” Claire took her own glass of wine. “It’s great fun. And then there’s the duke.” Amusement danced in her eyes.

“Don’t get your hopes up. I don’t plan to bed the duke.”

I attended my first hunt in a cornflower blue riding habit with narrow skirts and epaulettes. But my hat! Gorgeous and petite, it had blue satin that shone and a perky cerulean feather waving like a flag in the breeze.

“It is fantastic, isn’t it?” Claire relished my excitement. “With kid gloves and half boots, you look a natural.
Regarde.
” She pointed at a man carrying a giant curled horn. “It is time to begin.”

We mounted our sidesaddles with the help of a stable hand. A cheerful smattering of voices and the whinnies of horses floated on the crisp autumn breeze. Energy pulsed in the circles of waiting hunters. All listened for the horn, the signal to begin. Nothing in Martinique resembled such an event, with its display of horses and their regal riders. My pulse raced at the thrill.

I scanned the crowd. Still no sign of the duke.

The crowd hushed.

I held my breath. My horse, Sable, pranced beneath me in anticipation.

The horn’s melody sounded and cheering erupted. A blur of thundering horses and bawling hounds raced for the forest. Sable bolted. Leaning forward in the saddle, I focused on the path ahead. We sailed through thickets of oaks, maples, and walnut trees, their leaves a parade of burnt orange, lemon, and red currant. Wind billowed in my skirts.

“
Va Sable, Va!
” I shouted. Chunks of soil flew from under her speeding hooves. The scent of polished leather, the rhythm of muscles and sinew intoxicated me.

Just ahead, a stream came into view, gushing from the past few rain-soaked days. Anxiety washed over me. Should I pull back? Sable’s hooves pounded forward without hesitation. At the bank of the stream, I closed my eyes.

My stomach dropped. Weightlessness overtook me. In one smooth leap, Sable bounded over the stream.

A peal of laughter ripped from my lips. “
Magnifique!
” I nudged Sable faster, to leave all behind. “Onward!”

That evening, I wore rose-colored velvet with gold embroidery and c
ream satin ribbons. The dress had cost a fortune, but Claire insisted on helping me pay for it. We descended the stairs to wait for Fanny’s coach. She would escort Claire and me tonight. When the coach stopped in front of the house, its door flew open.

“Get in! We’re almost late,” Fanny called.

I bumped my head on the doorframe as we jerked forward. “Ouch!” I blotted my forehead, trying not to touch my hair. It had taken me more than an hour to get it right. Curls sprang from a pink flower pin, the perfect complement to such an elegant gown.

“You’re perfect, darling. Not to worry,” Claire said. She was ravishing, herself, in yellow silk and diamonds.

“Why are we in a hurry?” I asked.

“I’m meeting friends to discuss reform.” Fanny folded her hands in her lap.

“Reform? What sort?” Claire asked, her head swaying side to side to the rhythm of the moving carriage.

“The royal treasury is bankrupt. We’ll see another increase in taxes soon.”

“I’ve heard the King will no longer host court in Fontainebleau when this season concludes. How dull everything will become,” Claire complained.

“An increase in taxes?” I asked anxiously. “As it is, I have borrowed to survive these last months.”

“Times are unstable. We don’t want to be associated with the wrong side. Be prudent with your opinions,” Fanny warned. “Many fear revolt.”

We nodded in silent agreement. The thought of a revolt turned my stomach.

Fanny had no need to be discreet. Everyone debated reform.

“The King should fire the Minister of Finance. His support dwindles,” a gentleman said.

“King Louis is an arrogant fool. Too busy hunting and letting the Queen spend the national treasury on frippery,” another said.

Remaining neutral was my natural inclination; both sides had their points and dividing my friends concerned me. I thought it ludicrous to lose a friendship over opinions about the King. He would be King for posterity.

I searched for the duke throughout dinner, but did not see him in the sea of faces. As the wine flowed, the guests’ discussions became more animated and the ambience darkened. I excused myself to seek fresh air; a headache brewed.

On my final turn through the rambling halls, I spotted a door leading to the main gardens. The chilly air bit at my nose and ears. Stars sparkled against a black velvet sky. Torches lit the mansion’s rows of hardy flowers, which thrived in spite of the autumn frost. I descended a staircase leading to a terrace of topiaries and fountains.

“Madame, are you cold?” A voice startled me. “You are shivering.”

I squinted at a form in the darkness. “Who’s there?”

“Please, take my coat. I am quite warm.” The figure stepped into a halo of light from a nearby torch, revealing a familiar chiseled face. The duke.

I smiled. “Thank you, monsieur. That’s very kind of you.” He slid his coat off and wrapped it around my shoulders.

“You are very beautiful tonight, madame.” He leaned forward, taking my gloved hand in his and grazing it with his lips. A tingling spread up my arm. “It’s a lovely night, but a bit brisk. I’m surprised to find a woman out of doors.”

“The heavy talk was depressing my mood.” I smiled. “It appears I made the right choice.”

“May I?” He offered me his arm.

“Please.” I held his muscled forearm as he led me on a promenade through the garden.

“Times are changing,” he said. “We all feel the strain. But we need not dwell on serious talk on such a perfect night.”

“
Merci.
I’ve had enough for one evening.”

“And did the riding agree with you this afternoon?”

“Very much. Such a rush of freedom and danger. It feels like flying,” I breathed.

He eyed my heaving chest.

“I enjoy it as well. But I enjoy the company of a beautiful woman more.” His eyes smoldered with longing.

Heat swelled in hidden depths.

“Perhaps you would consider riding with me tomorrow afternoon . . . if we have good weather?”

I could hear Marie-Josèphe’s words of warning: “Don’t appear too eager. Rapid surrender will not win his affections.”

“I have another engagement tomorrow,” I said.

“And the following day? We could ride to one of my favorite spots.”

I paused before answering. I enjoyed riding, and I liked him. I glanced back at the impressive château. A wealthy lover would be divine, even if only for a little while.

“Sounds lovely.”

“I’ll send a coach for you. Now, shall we join the festivities? A concert will begin in a few moments.”

I grinned in the dark.

Within a fortnight, I fell into bed with the duke—the first man, beyond harmless flirtations, since Alexandre. To be admired again made me feel alive. Charles possessed an adorable perfection, but with so many willing ladies yet unplucked, his attention faded quickly. I followed his lead and applied myself to the next interesting gentleman, and the next. To feel wanted, even for a short time, invigorated me, as did their expensive gifts.

My financial woes deepened as the prices of flour, sugar, and oil swelled, and I moved in with Désirée and the Marquis to cut expenses. They adored having us live with them again. Both had missed our visits and those from Alexandre.

One summer afternoon, Alexandre came to see the children, bearing gifts.

“The gifts are lovely, but do you have my monthly stipend?” I asked.

Eugène sat on the floor surrounded by soldier figurines. Hortense held her new doll against her chest and gazed up at her father’s face.

“I will deliver it to you next week via post,” Alexandre said.

“We won’t eat, should you choose not to.”