The Star of Versailles by Catherine Curzon

Author:Catherine Curzon [Winsham, Catherine Curzon and Willow]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group Ltd
Published: 2016-11-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Two days after the impromptu party, the group traveled on in companionable silence and considerable comfort. No questions were asked as to how the inestimable Adam had secured a coach and four, but all were glad of it. The tranquil journey was broken by the occasional chatter of Bastien and Harriet, the little boy taking obvious comfort in the enthusiastic company of the older girl. Nights had passed without incident, days so peaceful one might have almost forgotten they were fleeing the forces of the revolutionary government. Now they sat outside their latest coaching inn, but Gaudet and Papillon were still inside.

Finally, as the sun emerged from behind a cloud to throw a brilliant ray of light onto the carriage, Gaudet emerged from the inn, Pap tucked under his arm and his handkerchief clutched to eyes that were wet with tears. A barmaid trotted with him, muttering obvious platitudes, gently patting his shoulder. Upon reaching the carriage he bid the woman a forlorn farewell and climbed into the vehicle, immediately sinking back into the squabs.

“Is there something in your eye?” William enquired, his tone businesslike.

“Little Louis-Charles.” Gaudet shook his head, bringing the handkerchief to his eyes again.

He was surprised and gratified to find himself rewarded with an awkward pat to the shoulder from William, before, apparently realizing what he was doing, the Englishman cleared his throat and sat back in his seat. “Yes. Well.”

“The king is dying,” Gaudet managed to sob. “The poor little fellow, all alone in that terrible place.”

He was aware of William and Dee exchanging glances, Dee finally commenting, “Sad news indeed.”

“He and I used to have such games, the little mite.”

“Would brandy help?” William asked.

“It is not yet nine. Brandy would not help at all,” Gaudet decided, lost once more in the thoughts of times long passed, of friends long gone, of the world that had been smashed.

There was silence for a moment, then William passed a fine handkerchief his way. He took it in a delicate grip, preoccupied with the pressing thought of the imprisoned child, of the terror he had experienced as an adult in the hands of his jailers, let alone a boy of little more than nine years old.

“I have good friends five hours or so along the road and today is the start of their village festival,” the professor told Gaudet with unmistakable kindness in his voice. “Harriet longs to see it and I believe you will find the celebrations a tonic, Monsieur.”

“A festival,” Sylvie piped up. “Just what we need.”

“A chance to forget our woes.” Dee turned to Bastien, who nodded. “Before we push on to Le Havre.”

“Excellent.” William’s tone was far too cheerful. “Excellent!”

“And, perhaps,” Dee chanced, even as Gaudet lifted his unhappy gaze to meet the professor’s own, “you will toast the little king’s name.”

“Imagine being my age,” Bastien murmured thoughtfully. “And a king—poor bloody bastard, who’d want that?”

Sylvie nudged him with her foot, saying, “No one asked you, did they?”

“Could’ve been worse.” He fixed his mother with an insolent gaze.

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