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‘A ball,’ she said briskly. ‘’Twill do for a beginning.’ She bit her finger-tip reflectively. ‘I must equip the child first, and myself. I declare I have scarce a rag to my back! A white brocade for Léonie, I think, or a certain shade of green. With that flaming head –’

‘My dear, I desire she shall be poudrée.’

‘As you will, Justin. Yes, it might be pretty. We shall see. I dare swear you have your reasons for wishing it. I shall send the invitations for – a fortnight hence. It’s a little enough time, to be sure, but I don’t despair of acceptances. Your name and mine, my dear – !’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘I vow I’ll have all Paris here! And then?’

‘Then, my dear Fanny, Versailles,’ he said.

Lady Fanny nodded.

‘It’s very well. You’ll make some stir with her, Justin.’

‘It is my intention,’ he said. ‘Send out your cards, my dear.’

‘Expense?’ She cocked her head to one side.

‘You will not consider it. I think we will have the young Condé and De Penthièvre. The Duc de Richelieu also.’

‘I leave them to you. There must be Madame du Deffand, of course, and the Duchesse de la Roque.’ Lady Fanny half-closed her eyes. ‘My dearest Justin, there is no one who is anyone who will not come to the ball, I pledge you my word! But la, what a work I have before me! They’ll come out of curiosity, depend upon it!’ She rustled to the door. ‘The child’s toilettes, Justin?’

‘I never quarrel with your taste, Fanny.’

‘How droll ’twill be! ’Tis as though I had a daughter, though thank heaven I have not! She’s to be richly clad?’

‘As befits my ward, Fanny, but à la jeune fille.’

‘Oh, never fear! You’ll not complain. Dear me, I have not been so excited since my girlhood, when you took me to Versailles, Justin. The whole house must be thrown open. I vow some of the rooms are positively thick with dust. ’Twill need an army to set all in order. The Ball but starts my activities, I assure you.’ She laughed delightedly. ‘We will have soirées, and card-parties, a rout, maybe, and – oh, we shall make some stir!’ She hurried away, full of business-like determination.

His Grace sat down to write a letter to Hugh Davenant.

From then onward the Hôtel Avon was plunged into bustling activity. Milliners and mantua-makers came and went, dancing masters and coiffeurs; and the servants invaded every shut room, and threw it open, and swept and garnished it. His Grace was hardly ever at home. He was at pains to show himself abroad, circulating the news of his return. Rupert he set to promote an ever-ready curiosity, so my lord, as soon as he was well enough, sallied forth to the gaming houses, and to the abodes of his cronies, and characteristically spread the tale of his brother’s latest whim. Léonie’s beauty lost nothing in his description of it; he hinted at dark mystery, and assured all and sundry that Avon counted on the presence of the Prince de Condé at his ball, and that also of M. de Richelieu. Paris began to hum, and Fanny sat in her boudoir with notes of acceptance scattered about her.

‘Oh, we shall do famously!’ she cried. ‘Said I not all Paris should come?’

But Léonie slipped away, escaping from dancing-masters and dressmakers alike, and stole into the library, where the Duke was usually to be found. She stood in the doorway regarding him wistfully. He looked up, laid down his quill, and stretched out a hand to her.

‘Well, ma fille ?’

She ran to him, and sank on to her knees beside his chair.

‘Monseigneur, it frightens me.’

He stroked her bright curls caressingly.

‘What frightens you, child?’

She made a comprehensive gesture.

‘This – all of it! There are so many grand people coming, and everyone is so busy. I myself have no time to talk to you, Monseigneur.’

‘You do not like it, child?’

She wrinkled her nose.

‘Ah, quant à ça – ! It excites me, Monseigneur, and – and yes, I like it very well. But it is as it was at Versailles. You remember I lost you. It was so big and brilliant.’

‘Child –’ He looked down into her eyes. ‘I am always here.’ He smiled a little. ‘I think, infant, it is I shall be in danger of losing you when you are launched into the world. You will no longer wish to sit with me then.’

She shook her head vehemently.


Tags: Georgette Heyer Alastair-Audley Tetralogy Romance