“Naturally,” Louise said, wondering just what she should talk to Beaumont about. Perhaps she should have perused the Morning Chronicle.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what is the duke’s familiar name?” Corbin asked.
Louise narrowed her eyes at him, but he gazed back innocently. “I never address any man by his first name,” she pronounced.
“My apologies!” Corbin cried. “I recall the Duke of Villiers addressing you as Louise…”
“I myself do not engage in such intimacies. At any rate, Villiers is my cousin. He’s not a man.”
“Contrary to what everyone thinks,” Corbin said, sounding delighted.
When the carriage stopped, Louise tied on her mask and they strolled toward the center of the park. There were some young couples embracing rather ardently in the shade of the poplar trees.
“It’s nothing more than one might see in the environs of the Bois de Boulogne,” Corbin said, after she pointed out this vulgarity.
“I have never entered the Bois de Boulogne,” Louise remarked. “And now you tell me that, I never shall.”
Corbin immediately commanded a supper box in just the right spot with a minimum of fuss, ordering two bottles of Champagne and a plate of delicacies.
“Two bottles?” Louise said, trying to adjust her mask so she could see a bit better.
“We might as well make ourselves comfortable,” Corbin said. “I’m afraid that the Duke of Beaumont does not appear to have arrived yet.”
“I didn’t come only for that purpose,” Louise said loftily (and untruthfully).
Corbin didn’t seem to mind. “I should hope not. It doesn’t do for ladies to track men down like hunting dogs. It would make my whole sex far too vain to even know of the possibility.”
Louise took a desperate swallow of Champagne. “These masks make everything rather difficult,” she said. “I certainly hope I recognize those people I know.”
“There is no need for introductions at Vauxhall,” Corbin assured her.
She digested that in silence. Truly, the English were a different race than the French. No French nobleman would attend an uncouth event of this nature. Still, she ought to be polite, since Corbin was kind enough to accompany her. “Those lamps shaped like stars are quite beautiful,” she told him. Corbin filled up her glass again, and she clutched it like a precious elixir. “Do you see any sign of the duke?”
“Not yet.”
“Look at that!” Louise exclaimed. “I do believe there are courtesans here.” The woman in question had thrown off her mask, if she ever had one.
“Dear me,” Corbin replied. “That is an elegant dress. I wonder if she knows that her entire bosom is visible?”
“Of course she does,” Louise retorted. “One doesn’t skimp cloth in that particular area unless one has made up one’s mind to do so. I must admit that I’ve never seen the demimondaine very close. Of course, one jokes about people such as the Comtesse de Montbard, but there is a difference.”
“Yes, the countess is liberal with her affections but entirely free,” Corbin murmured.
“I wonder how they phrase the request for money,” Louise said, drinking again. “I would be quite embarrassed at the need to price myself, so to speak.”
“I suspect they are used to it,” Corbin said in a companionable sort of way. They sat in their small box and observed the dancers for a time. Then Louise found herself watching a very tall man with an air of natural command and a beautiful profile, even masked. There was no question: the Duke of Beaumont had arrived.
“I beg you to excuse me for a moment,” she said, rising. She swayed a bit but caught herself. “I see a friend of mine. I’ll just take a glass of Champagne with me.”
“I will be right here,” Lord Corbin said, with just the right note of reassurance.
Louise headed directly across the dance floor. The duke appeared to be in a veritable nest of courtesans, and she thought she ought to make haste. The duchess was certainly wrong about her husband’s faithfulness. But then, Louise thought with a pang, she’d had the same illusions about her own husband.
“Peter, what on earth are you doing here?” Jemma said, sliding into the marquise’s chair as Louise wavered away from the table. “You find yourself in the midst of a play of my making, though now that I think of it, it’s entirely appropriate. You instigated the plot, after all.”
“My dear duchess,” Corbin said, kissing her fingers, “I must compliment you on your efficacy. I certainly didn’t think that you’d be able to bring about a courtship of your husband within twenty-four hours.”