To Sketch a Sphinx - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,37
life and devoted herself to England. Not that her devotion was rewarded.” She let herself frown, then brightened. “But with my recent marriage to Mr. Pratt here, who shares my desire to embrace France, I was able to come and restore the connection.”
Some in the group shared confused looks and Hal wondered if she had gone too far. She hadn’t said much beyond the truth, even if her emphasis was enhanced for effect.
“You do not love England, then?” one of the men asked.
Hal pretended to consider that. “I suppose I do, as it is the land of my birth, but I fear that love has become tinged with bitterness. My brother has been made an outcast for his views in life, my parents were never mourned in their deaths, and I have no tolerance for the airs Society seems to have taken upon themselves.” She smiled for the effect of the group. “England is not as perfect as they like to pretend, I fear.”
“Neither is France,” another man assured her, bringing laughter from the group.
“The King has done nobody good,” the tall man from before insisted. “He rules as though it is the year 800 rather than 1825. Returning to excesses is all he has done, and the country does not need such things.”
“No indeed,” Pratt agreed, entering the conversation for the first time. “He is quite unlike his brother, the late king, is he not?”
A general discussion of the monarchy and differences between them ensued, and it was made perfectly clear that Charles, the present French monarch, was wildly unpopular. His predecessor received a fair enough opinion, all things considered, but nothing particularly glowing.
There was no mention of the emperor or anything surrounding him.
That wasn’t surprising, but there wasn’t anything anyone had said that would leave Hal suspicious of Faction patronage.
Still, word would spread that the Pratts weren’t satisfied with England, and that could be enough.
She hoped.
“Monsieur Pratt, are you a man of cards?” the tall man asked.
“I can be persuaded,” Pratt replied, smiling beyond mere politeness. “Lead on.”
He nodded at Hal as he left, and the gentlemen of their little gathering all seemed to follow, leaving her alone with the ladies.
“You have a remarkably handsome husband, Madame Pratt,” one of the ladies confessed, fanning herself with a little more intensity. “Très charmant.”
Hal felt her cheeks coloring in an instant, which made the others laugh.
“Merci,” she replied softly. “I do believe I have chosen well.”
“C’est vrai!” another insisted.
“Madame Pratt, come,” Madame Savatier suddenly said, coming to her side and taking an arm. “I must show you off.” She nodded to the others and steered Hal away expertly. “They will contrive to take your husband away from your bed,” she told Hal softly. “They always do. Dissatisfaction with their own husbands and general boredom leads to unfortunate behavior. This group will suit much better for you.”
“Thank you,” Hal told her with utter sincerity, fighting the urge to look back at the ladies and glare with the power of a thousand daggers.
Madam Savatier patted her hand. “Pas du tout, ma chère.” She quickly introduced Hal to the new group and indicated the man to her right. “I will leave you in the care of Monsieur Leclerc, madame. He is very respectable and will ensure that Monsieur Pratt will return to find his wife safe and among friends.”
“Such responsibility,” Leclerc joked from beside her, shaking his head. “Madame Savatier, you put so much trust in me.”
She gave him a severe look. “Do not prove me false, Leclerc. Mademoiselle Favreau would not appreciate the discovery that her intended is not respectable.”
Leclerc bowed in acknowledgement. “Au revoir, madame.”
Hal watched their hostess leave and smiled at the gathering she had joined. “I hope you do not mind an Englishwoman joining you.”
“Of course not,” the woman beside her exclaimed in perfect English, a hand going to Hal’s arm. “You dress like a French woman, which is more than I can say for other ladies of your country I have met. This is simply charmante.”
“Thank you,” Hal told her with a smile. “I had Madame Moreau prepare my wedding trousseau.”
That earned her a round of approving nods, and a discussion of recent fashion began, the gentlemen engaging just as much as the ladies, to her surprise.
“You do not think a gentleman has as much interest in his apparel as a woman?” Leclerc asked her in a low voice.
Hal blushed at being caught in her thoughts. “Am I so obvious?”
Leclerc chuckled and shook his head. “I know something