"Come, Cordelia. We mustn't keep people waiting." Leo spoke behind her. He was holding Lucette; his groom had the reins of the viscount's own mount. "Let me put you in the saddle." He cupped his palm for her foot and tossed her up. The smile she gave him was so radiant, it took his breath away.
"Shall we ride companionably this afternoon?" she asked, confiding artlessly, "I was so lonely this morning." She turned her horse beside him as they fell in behind the cavalry. "I do wish we didn't have to swallow their dust."
"We can ride to the side." He suited actions to words, Cordelia following him. The talk with Mathilde had cleared Leo's mind. Last night had been an aberration that by some miracle had been stopped in time. It was ridiculous to imagine that he couldn't control his own desires. He had always been a man of honor and resolution, and that had not changed. Cordelia was in his charge. She was a sweet if spoiled and willful child, and he was a grown man, twelve years her senior. He would cultivate an avuncular amiability in their dealings. There was no reason to force Cordelia to ride alone. She was such a gregarious creature it was as unkind as it was unfair to punish her for his own lack of control.
"Shall we have another wager on the time of our arrival this evening?" She glanced sideways at him with transparent pleasure in having company again.
"What stakes this time?" He sounded amused, indulgent, as one might humor an enthusiastic child.
Cordelia frowned. That tone was almost worse than vexation. She shrugged carelessly. "Oh, I don't know. It was just a way of passing time, but I don't think it's really that amusing."
Amiable avuncularity did not find favor, clearly. Leo let it drop, inquiring with neutral interest, "What kind of studies did you do in Schonbrunn?"
To his astonishment, he realized that he'd opened a floodgate. Cordelia began to talk eagerly and fluently about philosophy, mathematical principles, German and French literature. She was educated far beyond the norm for her sex, and he found himself wondering what Michael would make of this aspect of his bride. Elvira had told him once that Michael despised bluestockings and she'd learned to pursue her own intellectual interests out of his ken. Leo hadn't thought much about it then. Many men were suspicious of educated and eloquent women. He had assumed that Elvira had access to her husband's library, social entrance to the various salons that abounded in Paris, and didn't go short of intellectual stimulation. But Elvira had been older and both more sophisticated and devious than Cordelia. Would Cordelia learn quickly enough what it was wisest to keep from her husband?
When they stopped to cross a tributary of the Danube at Steyr, Leo left Cordelia in the charge of his groom and went to confer with the French delegation. Cordelia was fascinated by the operation involved in getting such a massive procession across the single-track wooden bridge. She trotted along the riverbank, the groom in attendance, watching as the great coaches lumbered and swayed perilously close the the edge of the creaking bridge.
"Cordelia?"
"Christian!" She turned with a cry of delight. Christian was astride a gangling chestnut gelding with an ungainly gait and looked far from at home. But he was not a natural equestrian. "How I was hoping you would come and find me. I'm not permitted to go off on my own down the procession. Protocol." She wrinkled her nose in laughing disgust. "Are you enjoying yourself? Are you comfortable? Is there anything I can do for you?"
"No, nothing." Christian looked up at the red ball of the sun sinking below the river to the west. "A messenger came hotfoot from Vienna this morning. He brought me a letter from Hugh. You remember Hugh, he played the violin in Poligny's concerts."
"Yes, yes." Cordelia nodded eagerly. "What did he say?"
"The cat is really among the pigeons," Christian said with a chuckle of satisfaction. "Everyone's read the broadsheet. Poligny is defending himself from the rooftops, but Hugh said people are talking and pointing the finger. The empress hasn't said anything as yet, but palace rumor has it that she's thinking of sending him away."
"Oh, how wonderful!" Cordelia clapped her hands. "The story will reach Paris long before we do. You'll be a celebrity already."
Christian looked thoughtful. He plaited his mount's coarse mane with restless fingers. "I was thinking that perhaps I should go back to Vienna. If Poligny is really out, then there'll be…" He stopped, habitual modesty preventing him from continuing.
"There'll be a vacancy for court musician, and who better to fill it than Poligny's star pupil," Cordelia finished for him. She leaned over to take his hand. "Oh, love, I want whatever's best for you. But I shall miss you dreadfully. Particularly now that everything's become so confused."
"Confused?"
"It's this awkward business of being in love with the viscount," she said with an almost despairing sigh. "And after last night, I know he feels more than he'll admit to-"
"What about last night?" Christian interrupted.
Cordelia felt herself blushing. "Well, something happened. I… I accidentally blundered into his chamber and, well-"
"He didn't ravish you?" Christian's brown eyes were suddenly ablaze.
"Oh, no," she reassured hastily. "Nothing quite like that. But… things got rather out of hand." She looked at him helplessly, a rueful smile on her lips.
Christian leaned close to her, his eyes piercing in his pale angular face. "Did the viscount take your virginity, Cordelia? If he did, I'll kill him."
"Oh, no. You can't do that," Cordelia exclaimed. "And no, he didn't," she added, seeing that Christian was almost ready to fling himself from his horse. "I'm just so confused now."
Leo's voice reached them as he cantered toward them along the bank. "I give you a good evening, Christian. Cordelia, you need to cross the bridge now." He drew up next to the musician, nodded pleasantly, and added, "I trust you find your accommodations satisfactory, Christian."
Christian stared at the viscount, the fire still in his eyes. A tide of color spread over his pale features, then as swiftly faded. "Yes, thank you," he said stiffly.
"Christian was telling me of the reaction in Vienna to our broadsheet," Cordelia said excitedly. "It's everything he hoped it would be. In fact, he's wondering whether he should return to Vienna and try for Poligny's position."
"I'm not wondering that any longer," Christian announced as stiffly as before. "I'll be staying with you." He stared hard and meaningfully at the totally bewildered viscount before digging his heels into his mount's flank and cantering away, his usually graceful body jouncing around in the saddle like a sack of flour.
"Now, what's eating him?" Leo inquired, taking Cordelia's rein and urging her horse around toward the bridge.
Cordelia, who knew perfectly well, muttered something inaudible, jerking her reins free of his grasp. She had the conviction that Leo would not care for anyone knowing about last night. And he would not understand her need to confide-even in someone as close to her as Christian.
Prince Michael was not completely satisfied with the suite of rooms allocated to him and his bride at the Chateau de Compiegne. However, since the apartments set aside for the dauphine would not be completed before her arrival the following day because the workmen hadn't been paid, he decided it would be tactless to complain if the furnishings in his own suite were a trifle shabby.
The prince had traveled with the king and the dauphin to meet Marie Antoinette at Compiegne. The dauphine was still a day's journey away, but Louis had decided to honor his new granddaughter by coming out to greet her. He was in great good humor and had been delighted when it occurred to him that Prince Michael might wish to ride out to meet his own bride. The prince had accepted with appropriate gratitude what amounted to a royal command couched as invitation, although he would have preferred to welcome the princess on his own ground. Rushing to meet her seemed to indicate a somewhat unseemly eagerness. The girl was only sixteen, after all, and must not be encouraged to expect too much attention from her husband.