Hotel Transylvania by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

Author:Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Horror, Supernaturals, Historical
ISBN: 9780446611008
Publisher: Festa
Published: 1981-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

It was rather closer to four than three in the morning when le Comte de Saint-Germain at last strolled into the fine gambling rooms in the north wing of Hôtel Transylvania. He was dressed in a wide-skirted coat of black silk, and his usual black small clothes and hose. But instead of a black waistcoat, this time he wore one of the most pristine white satin embroidered with white floss. Against it his scattering of diamonds shone with additional brightness, and the ruby in the thick fall of Mechlin lace at his neck seemed to have darkened.

Le Duc de Valloncaché looked up bleary-eyed from the rubber of picquet he was playing with le Baron Beauvrai. "So late, Comte? I quite despaired of seeing you."

Saint-Germain bowed to him and smiled a little. "I fear the business I had earlier this evening detained me a trifle. But I hope you will not hold that against me. I am entirely at your service now."

De Valloncaché chuckled. "I fear I must protest this cavalier treatment of our engagement. I cannot have it spread about that there is one better than I at rouge et noir."

"If there were," Beauvrai said nastily, "it would not be that imposter. The game, de Valloncaché." He waved his elegant cream-colored lace back from his hands and smoothed the front of his glass-green brocaded coat, unbuttoning two more of the tiny ruby buttons that hid in the rust embroidery that replaced the revers on his coat. Under it he wore pantaloons of rose silk and a waistcoat of lemon and orange stripes. His hose were of a soft fawn color tonight, and his shoes were Turkish blue.

Shrugging, de Valloncaché said, "What am I to do, Comte? Beauvrai has the right, and I fear our game must wait."

Saint-Germain smiled easily. "I am willing to postpone our match, or to stay and wait your pleasure this evening."

Le Marquis Chenu-Tourelle, who had overheard this, turned to his companion, le Duc de la Mer-Herbeux, and gave him a knowing wink. "And what was it, Saint-Germain, that kept you away so long?"

If Saint-Germain caught the innuendo in the words, he gave no sign of it. "I was visiting a musician, who is leaving soon for a long visit away from Paris. I wanted to pay my respects, and, as such things will, it took more time than I had thought it would."

"Musicians!" Beauvrai scoffed. "When do those of our station visit strummers and plunkers?"

"He is a composer, Beauvrai," de Valloncaché said, at his most conciliating.

Beauvrai was not put off. "Paying respects to a musician!" he scoffed. "I tell you, that man is a charlatan." He picked up his hand once more and refused to look again at Saint-Germain.

"Beauvrai's in an ugly mood tonight," de Valloncaché said by way of apology to Saint-Germain. "I'm winning, you see. He cannot bear to have me win."

Unruffled by Beauvrai's rudeness, Saint-Germain bowed slightly and said, "If it falls in well with your plans, de Valloncaché, I will play hoca until you are ready to pit your skill against mine.

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