"you remarked to me that a woman is to be admired for defending her children, and I agreed." After a moment, he said, "The same thing could be said of a woman defending her husband, what?"
She let out her held breath. A peace offering, and not easy for him. Diana curtsied again. "I think so, sire."
He nodded, but as she rose, he said, "I pray, madam, that you have two sons."
Bey spoke then. "You will permit us to keep the titles separate, sire? We thank you. But what if we have only one son?"
Diana tightened her hand on his. He was asking the king to agree to the possibility of another countess in her own right at Arradale, pushing the king's tolerance, here in public.
Eventually the king nodded, but coldly. "If it is God's will."
Bey bowed deeply. "You have our most sincere thanks, Your Majesty. May I repay you with a gift?"
"A gift?" said the king, brightening.
"Lady Arradale owned an automaton based on herself as a child, but it was broken, so she gave it into my care. Now, we would like to give it to you, sire, as a sign of our eternal devotion and loyalty. If you would be so kind as to step into the hall, it can be demonstrated there where all can see."
The king rose enthusiastically, and the word spread so everyone packed into the hall, up the staircase, and around the landings above.
The drummer boy was wheeled out. "'Pon my soul, Lord Rothgar," the king exclaimed, "this is a fine piece! Let's see it work, what?"
Bey switched it on, and the drummer boy went through his paces perfectly, charming the king and everyone there. After three windings and repeats, people still clamored for more, but the king ordered it taken on its way, promising a further display at the Queen's House soon.
Diana was pleased to see it go. Not only was it a reminder of her family's hurts, but now to her it seemed trapped, like a child of her own forced to perform in a limited way, as she had been threatened by so many limitations.
That seemed morbid. Perhaps she was just tired. Bey left her to escort the king out of the house, and the other guests began to leave, clearly happy with the event even though it had been cut short.
She was tempted to seek her room - to explore her happiness and relive the dangers and death, but she longed for Bey too, so she waited, but out of the way, not wanting more avid speculation. Alas, after this she would probably always be an object of curiosity, but she could bear it.
With Bey at her side.
But one guest did approach her - a woman in a beautiful shell-pink gown who had made little effort to disguise herself, for she wore only a narrow black mask.
Before she could speak, Bey appeared and took Diana's hand. "You must have had a sorry evening, Monsieur D'Eon."
Chapter 34
Diana stared, fascinated by D'Eon's illusion of femininity. Paint and powder could achieve a great deal, but he had the mannerisms and gestures down perfectly. And above his low bodice, breasts swelled!
Perhaps he was just plump, she thought, as tension swept away idle thoughts. Here was the master hand behind the attacks.
D'Eon waved his lacy fan. "It would have been a sorrier one, my lord, had that madman achieved his end."
"You disown him?"
D'Eon shuddered. "Emphatically."
Bey's brows rose. "You expect me to believe you are innocent of the various attacks on my life?"
D'Eon was an astonishing image of outraged innocence. "I have never sought your life, Lord Rothgar. Never."
"What of Curry?"
The fan wafted again. "A wound, no more."
Diana almost spoke her opinion of that, but she decided to be a fascinated observer of this verbal fencing.
"De Couriac's orders in the north were the same," D'Eon said. "I did not realize he was so unbalanced."
"Or that he was under other orders, perhaps?" Bey said.
D'Eon's red lips tightened. "Or that, my lord."
"You expect me to accept these attempts to wound me without affront?"
"C'est la guerre, monsieur le marquis."
"Then perhaps you are a prisoner of war, Chevalier."
The little man stiffened. "You cannot touch the ambassador of France."
"Acting ambassador," Bey gently reminded him. "Soon Monsieur de Guerchy will come, and your cloak of protection will be removed."
"Perhaps, perhaps not." D'Eon's eyes were steady. "Like you, my lord, I serve my king, and serve him well."
"Kings are not always faithful to their servants. In time, Chevalier, you will die for involving