"But… but what of the king?" Their eyes, twinned, gazed at her across the table.

"What of the king?" came a voice from the door.

"It's Monsieur Leo!" they squealed in unison. "Did you find us?"

"It certainly looks that way," he said solemnly, closing the door behind him. "I am sent by the king, who wishes to make the acquaintance of my nieces." This last was directed more at Cordelia than at the girls.

His expression was calm, his manner easy. Leo was a past master at the courtly art of dissembling. Only in his eyes could the truth be seen. They were no longer lightless, but they burned with a dreadful rage, akin to despair, and Cordelia's scalp lifted with cold dread. He was blaming himself. She had known that would be his first response, and she had no idea how to reach him in that bitter slough of self-denunciation. Even to attempt ordinary words of comfort would be insulting, especially since she had not known Elvira.

Michael was presumably still keeping to his bed, but he knew that she would be escorting the children to Toinette, so there was no danger of falling foul of him at this point. He could hardly expect her to refuse to obey a royal summons while she waited for him to recover.

"Then we should not delay," she said neutrally. She didn't look at Leo, because she knew that her eyes were filled with compassion and her own fear, and to see that would only add to his burdens. She wiped chocolate from one child's mouth and turned to the jam on the other's fingers.

The door to the governess's chamber opened, and Louise stood glaring in silent accusation in the doorway.

Leo said with cold authority, "I have been sent by the king to escort your charges to his presence. Perhaps you would make certain their dress is in order."

"The princess has made it clear that my services are not required," Louise said spitefully, with downturned mouth. "The princess believes she can tend to her stepdaughters without assistance. Even though I've been doing it to the prince's satisfaction for close on four years."

Leo didn't deign to reply, he merely looked through her as if she were some transparent insect. Cordelia said curtly, "Whatever grievance you may have, madame, this is not the place to air it." She lifted Amelia and then Sylvie from their chairs, smoothing down their skirts, adjusting their muslin fichus.

Amelia, still troubled by the faint spot on her bodice, surreptitiously scratched at it with a fingernail while casting anxious glances toward the governess.

"Come." Leo took their hands. "We mustn't keep the king waiting."

Louise didn't move from her spot by her door until they had all left the room. Then she came over to the table. Her mouth was pursed, her eyes sharply speculative. Greedily, she began to eat the remains of the children's breakfast, cramming brioche into her mouth as if she hadn't eaten in a week, swallowing jam by the spoonful in between sips of the now cold chocolate remaining in the jug.

She would appeal directly to the prince. He must surely regard an affront to her authority as an affront to his own. It was common household gossip that he ruled his young bride with the same rod of iron he held over the rest of his staff.

She brushed crumbs from her lips with the back of her hand, heedless of a smear of jam that transferred itself to her gown. She took a long nip from her flask and sat down beside the empty grate. It was obvious that the princess was hand in glove with the viscount, which made the situation even more intolerable but would act in her favor with the prince. An alliance between stepmother and uncle would not be tolerated by the father. Prince Michael ruled alone.

"I know what it is!" Cordelia exclaimed suddenly as they began to walk down the corridor. She stopped and looked down at the children, stepping away to get a better look. "Amelia's wearing Sylvie's ribbon, and Sylvie's wearing Amelia's."

"What?" Leo dropped their hands and looked in astonishment at the twins, who were now covered in confusion, giggling behind their hands, their faces crimson. "How can you tell?"

"Well, I couldn't at first, but Sylvie has a beauty spot on the back of her neck." She touched the almost invisible mole on the supposed Amelia's neck. "I'm right, aren't I?" The child nodded, still convulsed with giggles.

"I'll be damned!" Leo shook his head. "How often do you play such a trick?"

Neither child answered, but they covered their faces with their hands.

"It must be such fun to fool everyone like that," Cordelia said, much struck by the possibilities of the masquerade. "Don't you agree, Leo?"

For a moment the shadows retreated. Leo couldn't help smiling at the thought of the governess, not to mention, Michael, never knowing which child they were talking to. The game must have lightened their dreary days.

"How many times have you deceived me?" he demanded.

"Oh, never," they assured him in unison. "Never!"

"Somehow I doubt that," he commented wryly. "But you'll not do it again, thanks to your observant stepmother."

His smile faded as they renewed their walk through the thronged corridor, he and Cordelia each holding a child's hand. "I will have passports for you and the children within two days." His lips barely moved as he spoke in the direction of her ear. "I must find a way to get the girls out of Versailles on some pretext. Something that will give you a few hours' start."

"Mathilde will come with us," she returned in the same almost soundless murmur, responding as if this were merely the continuation of a long previous discussion. Of course, there was no choice, no decisions to be made apart from the when and the how. And she didn't have to be told that Leo would not come with them. Michael might suspect his involvement, but he mustn't be given proof. It would be for her to ensure the girls' safety.

The children, hanging on their hands, gazed wide-eyed at the magnificence around them, their little feet taking the tiny gliding steps they'd been taught. The king's audience chamber was crowded with courtiers, but a word from Leo to one of the king's chancellors secured them clear passage to where the king sat with the dauphine and her husband. Amelia and Sylvie were engulfed. They saw only legs and hoops as they were wafted through the crowd, their cheeks brushing against rich silks and velvets, their tiny slippered feet barely touching the marble floors. They clung desperately to the supporting hands of their escorts, terrified that if they came adrift, they would be lost in the sea of gowns, drowned beneath the rising waves of noise way above them.

They had so little experience of the world outside their shuttered apartments on the rue du Bac that they were tongue-tied, staring at their feet, when they reached the king. They only remembered to curtsy when they saw Cordelia sweeping into a deep obeisance at the king's feet.

Toinette leaned forward in her chair, beckoning them to her. "I have some sweetmeats," she said warmly, gesturing to a flunky holding a silver salver of cakes and pastries. The children looked up at Leo and Cordelia, too shy to move a muscle. The king laughed, selected two marzipan roses from the salver, and gave one to each child, then with great good humor turned to Madame du Barry, signaling that the audience was over.

Toinette rose from her chair. "Let us walk with the children, Cordelia. Do you accompany us, Viscount Kierston?" This last was a trifle imperious, breaking into Leo's conversation with Madame du Barry, who stood at the king's right shoulder.

Leo smiled politely but his eyebrows lifted a little as he bowed to the young woman, whose nose was definitely in the air, her eyes studiously averted from the king's mistress. "I am yours to command, of course, madame."

"Then I command that you accompany us," Toinette declared, now trying to sound lighthearted and teasing. But the attempt was too late to reverse the effect of her outright snub to Madame du Barry, who stood glaring, her mouth pinched, her cheeks white beneath the rouge. The king was looking most displeased, but Toinette appeared not to notice.

"I do not believe madame ma mere would expect me to mingle with whores," she said in a defiant undertone as they moved away from the circle fawning at the king's feet.

"I imagine the empress would expect her daughter to behave with courtesy," Leo said. Despite his own wretchedness, he couldn't stand aside and see the child make such a dreadful mistake. "If you make an enemy of the du Barry, madame, you will play into the hands of those who would use you to cause trouble at court. That will not please the king."

"I follow my conscience, my lord," Toinette declared loftily. "And my conscience is answerable only to God." She gave a short nod of her head in punctuation. "Let's go into the gardens and show Amelia and Sylvie the peacocks and the fountains."

The girls, who were beginning to recover from the ordeal of the king's audience and to examine their exotic surroundings with more interest, exclaimed with delight at this prospect, tugging on Leo's hands.

Leo bowed with more than a hint of irony and gave up. He had far more pressing concerns. "If you'll excuse me, madame." He strode away.

Toinette seemed barely to notice. "I am having a concert this afternoon, Cordelia; you must bring the children. Signer Percossi is to play for us. And there's to be a dancer too."

"A dancer?"

"Yes, she's called Clothilde, I believe. He requested it most specifically."

"Oh." Despite everything, Cordelia smiled with pleasure, Christian must have summoned up his courage to approach the dancer. "Do you have music lessons, Sylvie?"