The Secret Life of Lady Julia by Lecia Cornwall

Author:Lecia Cornwall
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: historical romance, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯), Fiction
ISBN: 9780062202468
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-05-27T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Julia was ushered into an elegant drawing room filled with music, light, and people. A bust of the French King Louis XVIII looked down on the party with bland benevolence from a prominent pedestal. In fact, all the art in the room was French, right down to the Aubusson tapestries that adorned one entire wall, portraying the Goddess Diana hunting with Apollo.

Diana de Talleyrand looked up with pleasure as Julia entered and hurried across to greet her with a kiss on both cheeks.

“Dearest Julia, my uncle was just telling our guests about your adventure in the park this afternoon. How brave you are!” Julia felt her skin heat, especially when light applause broke out and she looked up to find everyone staring at her.

“But this is your night to celebrate, Diana. I wish you a very happy birthday,” Julia murmured.

“Thank you,” Diana twinkled. “It is all the happier for your presence. My uncle enjoys heroic tales, and you have brightened his day.”

Julia was introduced to army officers, counts, baronesses, a charming Russian general, and a number of other people who were utterly delighted to make her acquaintance. She felt the way she had when she made her debut and people rushed across the ballroom to make her acquaintance as the future Duchess Temberlay, a lady worth knowing. It was seductive, this feeling. How easy it would be to have that life back again, here on the Continent. There were admiring gazes from several gentlemen, and one asked to whom he might apply for permission to call upon her formally.

She merely laughed. She had no idea.

She strolled in the prince’s picture gallery, enjoying some of the marvelous paintings he had brought from France. Many were being brought home, a gesture of goodwill, since they had been taken from their rightful owners by Napoleon’s troops.

“A lover of art as well as a heroine, I see,” Prince de Talleyrand said, appearing at her elbow. “Come and see the very finest ones.” He didn’t wait for her to agree. He tucked her hand under his arm and set off, leaning on his cane. The ivory tip was silent in the halls of the Kaunitz Palace, which had been fitted with priceless carpets and tapestries to eliminate any noise. Julia felt a prickle of unease creep up her spine. She had grown used to listening to the sound of footsteps in the corridors of the Minoritenplatz. She could read them—fast steps meant news, slow, muffled ones eavesdroppers. There were the various sounds of soldiers’ boots, ladies’ slippers, and the servants’ shoes. But here, in the deep silence, how would anyone know if there was someone approaching? They passed another tapestry, this one showing Joan of Arc crowning the Dauphin, and she realized that anyone might be hiding behind it, watching.

Talleyrand paused and swept the edge of the tapestry back, revealing a door. She wondered if there were other hidden doorways behind the draperies. Her heartbeat quickened as the door opened to reveal a small private chamber, brilliantly lit with candles, lighting the paintings that adorned every wall.

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