Page 96 of Echo in the Wind

“He compared himself to Apollo?”

“Just so,” Donet said in clipped fashion.

Joanna experienced an overwhelming feeling of awe as her gaze roved about the long mirrored hall. Above and to the side of her were crystal chandeliers with hundreds of candles, their flickering light reflected in the mirrors and the polished parquet floors.

Through the tall arched windows, she glimpsed the sky, which had become a muted canvas of blue, lavender and pink.

Donet led her forward, examining the faces in the crowd as he spoke. “Two hundred years ago when the hall was finished, such a display would have been a rare luxury. Even today, Versailles is extraordinary in its splendor.”

“And the courtiers who gather here are painted with the same elaborate brush,” Joanna remarked. Having worn one of the gowns Madame Provot had made for her in Lorient, Joanna did not feel inappropriately dressed.

Fashioned from cream silk decorated with pale clusters of grapes, yellow flowers and leaves, it was lovely with its underskirt of verdigris green satin. Edged all around in the same green satin with bows at the waist and elbows, the effect was quite flattering against her auburn hair, unpowdered but piled high with curls. As she watched the other ladies, however, she could see no others whose hair was worn in its natural state. “Perhaps I should have powdered my hair?”

“Nonsense. Your hair is one of the things I love about you, Joanna. Even the queen, known for her beauty, could not be more beautiful than you this night, though I am rather fond of you in breeches.”

She gave him a sidelong glance at the reminder of her smuggler’s clothing. “Something tells me I’ll not be wearing breeches anytime soon.”

“Never again in view of others, if I have my way.”

She stiffened at his proprietary remark. “You have become quite domineering, M’sieur.”

“Yes, I daresay I have, particularly when it comes to you.” And then, with a smirk, “Or, perhaps, you are just now seeing the real pirate.”

She bit back a snort as men and women in their finery passed them by, giving them curious looks. None bothered to greet Donet. “Don’t they know you?”

“Why ever should they? They are always here while I have only visited the king a few times and then surreptitiously. Most of these people have never seen me. Saintonge to them would be my father. I do not look like him. Henri and I favored our mother.”

A man came toward them out of the crowd but then veered off at the last moment. His expression was one of shock. “That man must know you from your pirate days,” she said. “He appeared dismayed to see you here.”

“En effet, he did.” Donet glanced over his shoulder, his gaze following the man as he strode away. An obvious aristocrat, the man’s clothing was not unlike that of the others, but his great height and very slender form distinguished him.

“Do you think these people know anything of the peasants’ great unhappiness? I have often wondered the same thing when I have attended elaborate balls in England.”

“From what I have observed, the nobility in Paris remains blithely ignorant of the mounting danger. Instead, they take secret pleasure in attacking the Ancien Régime they consider antiquated and ridiculous, yet at the same time, you see how willingly they enjoy its pleasures.” He glanced ahead as they approached the end of the hall. “Louis is just ahead.”

The king stood surrounded by a crowd of people. Behind him were watchful servants in blue livery decorated with red and white braid.

As she and Donet drew near, the king looked over the shoulders of those speaking to him and smiled. “Ah, the comte de Saintonge finally comes.”

Joanna would have guessed him to be the king even if Donet had not pointed him out. Louis had to be six feet tall. Where Donet was muscled and lithe, the king was slightly plump and his face round, even though he had to be a decade younger. Louis wore a red velvet coat and breeches, the shoulders embroidered in gold. His waistcoat, stretched over his belly, was ivory silk embellished in gold. He wore a white wig but his eyebrows were a light brown, making her think he might have fair hair.

The king had a benevolent look about him that immediately put Joanna at ease. In his eyes, which were a brilliant blue, she glimpsed amusement as he gazed at Donet. The king beckoned Donet to him. The men speaking with the king stepped aside.

Joanna gripped Donet’s arm and walked forward.

He bowed before the king. “Your Majesty, I come to assure you of my continued loyalty.”

The king smiled. “I would expect no less from one who has served me for many years.”

Rising, Donet said, “May I introduce Lady Joanna West, sister of the Earl of Torrington?”

Joanna sank into a deep curtsy. “My Lord.” She could not very well call him her king.

“An Englishwoman?” Louis asked, his brows lifting toward the ceiling.

Joanna blanched. Many French disliked the English. After all, they were ever enemies.

“Oui,” said Donet, helping her to rise. “I met Lady Joanna at a reception for Mr. Pitt, England’s Prime Minister, who spoke well of his time in France and of his meeting you and the queen.”