Cordelia had no heart for further questioning, and they rode in tense silence throughout the morning, stopping for midday refreshment on the right bank of the River Aisne. The local townsfolk crowded around the tables set up picnic-style, gawping at the dauphine and her entourage, Marie Antoinette was charmed with the rustic setting and the informality of the occasion. She summoned Cordelia to sit at her table and chattered like a magpie.
Toinette was clearly not apprehensive and certainly didn't look as if she'd spent a sleepless night. Cordelia reflected that the woebegone homesick girl had vanished, transformed into this delighted and delightful princess who reveled in the attention and the homage with a child's conspicuous pleasure mingled with the haughtiness of one who knew it was her due.
"Come, let us walk among the people." Toinette rose to her feet in a billow of straw-colored silk. She tucked her hand in Cordelia's arm. "We shall stroll among them and greet them. They are my subjects now and I do so want them to love me."
The people certainly seemed very well disposed to their future queen and reluctant to let her go when it was time to return to the carriages.
Lucette had been unsaddled and returned to the rear of the procession, and the coach with the von Sachsen arms on its panels stood ready. Leo was already waiting at the footstep. As Cordelia made her way over to him, Christian appeared from the crowd, leading his horse.
Cordelia's face lit up. With Christian she could be certain of her welcome. Christian's loving friendship was no fantasy. She gathered up her skirts and ran toward him. "Christian, how are you?" She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, forgetting the public arena. "I have been thinking of where you will lodge in Paris."
"Cordelia, you should know better than to indulge in public displays of affection," Leo reproved sharply as he came over to them. "And you too, Christian. You know as well as anyone that the closeness of your friendship needs to be kept out of the public eye."
Christian flushed. "I know where the boundaries of friendship lie, my lord," he said pointedly.
"My lord, do you have any idea where Christian should go when we reach Paris?" Cordelia asked quickly.
"I don't need the viscount's help, Cordelia," Christian protested stiffly. "I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself."
"But it's a strange city and Lord Kierston is sponsoring you. Of course he'll help you, won't you?" She turned her great turquoise eyes toward him. "You won't renege on a promise, I trust, sir?"
It was almost a relief, he thought, to see her eyes filled now with an angry challenge, rather than the haunting shock of one whose trust has been abruptly abused. He ignored the challenge, saying calmly to Christian, "I'll give you the address of a respectable and inexpensive lodging house. You'll be quite comfortable there until you get settled."
Leo opened the carriage door. "Come, the procession is moving." He handed Cordelia in and climbed up after her.
Cordelia leaned out of the window. "We'll talk about it when we get to Compiegne, Christian." She watched him ride away toward the rear of the column and then leaned back against the squabs.
"You will help him, won't you?"
"If he'll accept it." Leo turned his head to look out of the window. He regretted his necessary cruelty of the night before, but he was feeling much more than that regret at the moment. He had not expected to feel as he did. Bereft and sad. He had done his duty by Cordelia and by Michael. He had resisted temptation, all but that once, even though it had been the hardest thing he'd ever done. Now he would be out of temptation. Cordelia from the moment of her introduction to her husband would belong body and soul to Michael. But the knowledge filled him with drear regret.
They reached the town of Berneuil on the outskirts of the forest of Compiegne at three o'clock. Two outriders from the king's party awaited them with the news that His Majesty had decided to escort his new granddaughter to Compiegne himself. He and the dauphin were but five minutes away.
"An unlooked-for honor," Leo observed. "The king doesn't usually put himself out to such an extent."
When Cordelia didn't respond, Leo stepped out of the marriage. "Come." He held up his hand.
Cordelia's hand merely brushed his she stepped down, unconsciously, she lifted her chin as she looked around.
It was such an obvious attempt to gather courage that his art went out to her.
"Take heart. Things are never as bad as you expect." He offered a bracing smile.
"I don't wish to be married to him," she said in a fierce undertone. "I love you, Leo."
"Enough!" he commanded sharply. "That kind of talk will do you nothing but harm."
Cordelia bit her lip hard. They reached the dauphine and her entourage, who were standing beside their carriages, waiting the king. Toinette looked over her shoulder and caught Cordelia's eye. She pulled a face and for a moment it was as if their old mischievous relationship were restored, except that Cordelia couldn't summon the spirit to respond, Then the sound of hooves and iron wheels on the unpaved road filled the air, and the dauphine turned back hastily, straightening her shoulders.
The king's cavalcade entered the small town square with triumphant sound of drums, trumpets, timbals, and hautbois. It was a massive company of guards, soldiers, cavaliers, and coaches.
The king stepped out of the first carriage, accompanied by a young man who looked stiffly and nervously around the assembled company.
"Is that the dauphin?" Cordelia whispered to Leo, her attention diverted from her own misery.
"Yes. He's very shy."
Cordelia wanted to comment on how unattractive the young man was, but she kept the remark to herself, watching as Toinette fell to her knees before the king, who raised her up, kissed her warmly, and drew forward his grandson. Louis-Auguste shyly kissed his bride to cheers and applause from the spectators.
Prince Michael von Sachsen made his way through the crowd toward his brother-in-law. For a few minutes, he had observed the young woman standing beside the viscount. She was dressed in the first style of elegance, as he would have expected. Her expression was very serious, sullen almost. He'd had enough levity in his married life to last through several marriages, he reflected, not displeased by the girl's somber countenance. With luck, she would discourage his daughters' tendency to flightiness as reported by Louise de Nevry. Not that he could imagine either of them producing so much as a smile, but presumably their governess knew them better than he did.
"Viscount Kierston." He greeted his brother-in-law formally.
Leo had been watching his approach. He bowed. "Prince von Sachsen. Allow me to introduce Princess von Sachsen."
Cordelia curtsied. Her husband took her hand and raised her up. He kissed her hand, then lightly brushed her cheek with his lips.
"Madame, I bid you welcome."
"Thank you, sir." Cordelia could think of nothing else to say. The prince looked very like his miniature. He was not unhandsome. His hair was hidden beneath a wig, but his eyebrows were gray. His figure was a little stout, but not objectionably so-unless one was accustomed to the lean, athletic muscularity of Leo Beaumont.
She forced herself to smile, to meet his pale eyes. Leo, beside her, was staring into the middle distance. The prince frowned suddenly and a shadow flickered across the flat surface of his eyes. It was as if he didn't like what he saw.
"We will lodge at Compiegne this evening," the prince stated in a flat, slightly nasal voice, without a tinge of warmth. "I have arranged for the marriage to be solemnized formally when we reach Paris tomorrow evening. It will be a quiet ceremony, but I trust, Leo, that you will honor us with your company." He turned and smiled at his brother-in-law. A thin flickering smile that reminded Cordelia unpleasantly of an asp's tongue. She glanced up at Leo. His expression was frozen but he bowed and murmured his honor at the invitation.