The Princess and the Diamonds Page 9

  She’d never lacked strength in her life. She’d relied on her strength to make it through all these years. But she didn’t possess nearly enough to say good-bye. Not to his beloved face. For that reason, she hadn’t told him she was leaving this eve instead of tomorrow, as he believed.

  “There you are.” Mathias’s voice grabbed her attention.

  Joy welled up inside her the moment she saw him walking down cobblestone path toward her. The light breeze caressed his dark hair, and his light gray justacorps not only accentuated his broad shoulders, but was a perfect match with those knee-weakening, beautiful eyes.

  Her nerve endings sparked to life.

  Smiling, he sat down beside her on the stone bench, slipped a hand onto the nape of her neck, and pulled her close for a kiss. Long and luscious and languorous. It was heaven.

  He was heaven. Behind her closed eyes, she felt the sting of tears. In the years to come, would he remember her still and think of her from time to time? Or would she fade in his memory?

  “I brought you something,” he said, smiling.

  His smile was contagious. “Oh?”

  Reaching inside his justacorps, Mathias pulled out a pink satin box, a little smaller than his palm.

  Surprised, she took it from his hands, placed it on her lap, and lifted the pretty lid.

  Her eyes immediately filled with fresh tears. She fought them back.

  Inside was a small leather-bound volume with the name SILVIE on the cover. Pulling the small book out of the box, she held it in her hands. She was so moved, she couldn’t speak.

  “It’s a book of poetry. I saw it at the bookseller and had the cover custom made,” he explained. “Do you like it?”

  She nodded, and put her arms around him, her throat tight with emotion. “I’ll cherish it always. I’ll think of you each time I read it,” she said near his ear.

  Grasping her wrists, he removed her arms from around his neck and held her hands. “I’ve been thinking, Silvie. I’d like to speak to your father.”

  Her brows shot up. “Speak to my father? Why?”

  He gently squeezed her hands. “Since he is looking for potential husbands for you, I’d like him to consider me.”

  Her heart lost a beat. Dear God, this was the first time Mathias had ever discussed the future—with her in it. Hope surged inside her. She had to tamp it down. “My father isn’t exactly an easy man to speak to. He—He may have made his decision. If that is so, he isn’t one to change his mind.”

  “I can be persuasive, Silvie.”

  Her mind was spinning. Could it work? Might it actually happen?

  Dare she wish for it? No, she wasn’t going to wish for it. Her father was unpredictable. With the brood of children His Majesty had sired, he usually gave his daughters in marriage to those he favored at court. Like gifts. The probability of the King being amiable to the idea of marrying her to a man who had a reputation for vice was slim. It mattered little that the King himself was vice-ridden. His Majesty rarely saw the irony in things.

  “I have to think . . .” she said. “My father isn’t easily dealt with . . .”

  “I want to marry you, Silvie.”

  “Why? You don’t know me.”

  “Yes, I do. I know that beneath that hard exterior is a woman who is tender and kind and beautiful from the inside out. She makes me smile. She makes me happy.” He leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “She makes me so damned hard.” His warm breath tickled her neck and sent a delightful shiver through her. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes.

  “I love you, Silvie.”

  She grabbed his justacorps and kissed him hard, crushing her mouth to his, afraid those same words would slip past her lips. Words she couldn’t say. It would shatter her, knowing he couldn’t be hers. Knowing her father wouldn’t agree. Why pick Mathias when there were scores of men who followed the King around each and every day at the palace whom he knew and liked and wanted to reward?

  Mathias’s words only weighted her heart more.

  He broke the kiss and caressed her cheek. “I have to go. We’ll discuss this matter later.” He rose. “There is one more thing, Silvie. Under no circumstances are you going to Navers’s hôtel tonight. I’ve left a purse with your majordomo. It is the balance of the debt. You are going to take it and forget Basset. There is going to be trouble, and you’re not getting involved in it.”

  Gabrielle set down the items on her lap on the bench and stood. “What do you mean, ‘trouble’?” When he paused she added, “Either you tell me what you mean, or I am going.”

  He sighed. “Silvie, if I trust you enough to be my wife, and that is what you are going to be regardless, then you need to know there is a chance that there may be a raid tonight by the Paris Police. The King wants his ban on Basset taken seriously.”

  Gabrielle’s pulse began to race. “You’re involved? You are helping the Paris Police?”

  “Yes, and as committed to it as I am, I’ll not hold my tongue about the raid and place you in harm’s way.”

  Her heart began to pound. A most extraordinary plan took shape in her mind. The best one she’d ever devised.

  A life-altering plan.

  *****

  Mathias smiled on his way from Navers’s hôtel to Silvie’s townhouse. Slumped back in the moving carriage, he felt weary, but happy, and most of all, relieved. It was over.

  And he’d been right.

  Two hours into the evening, thirty men from the Paris police, including Sard, burst into Navers’s home and arrested the Duc, his nephew, and all the players in attendance.

  But not Silvie. For once she’d actually heeded his advice. And he was thrilled she wasn’t caught. He couldn’t wait to see her. To make love to her.

  To make plans on broaching her father.

  Just how difficult could the man be? Whatever he was like, whoever he was, Mathias would get his way. Silvie would be his. She loved him. He knew it. He knew in time, she’d come to verbally express the emotion that was in her eyes each time she looked at him. Touched him. Kissed him.

  The carriage pulled up to the townhouse. He alighted with a bounce in his step. His heart raced, now that he was so close to her.

  He couldn’t wait to share the details of the night. Describe the look of outrage on the Duc’s face. There were enough men of quality there that the sweeping arrest, with a Lettre de Cachet for each man Mathias had named, would rock the aristocracy and make them take heed.

  The King was deadly serious.

  There would be no more Basset.

  Mathias stopped before the door to the townhouse. He looked up at the night sky. It was punctured with a million twinkling lights. “Rest in peace, Victor,” he said, then knocked on the door.

  As usual, the majordomo answered. “Good evening, my lord.”

  Mathias stepped inside. “Good evening.” He proceeded to cross the vestibule. Because he was there every day, he simply showed himself to Silvie’s private apartments.

  “My lord, the mademoiselle is not here.”

  Mathias arrested his steps. “What do you mean, not here?” Silvie never left the townhouse, except in disguise to play Basset.

  “She left, my lord. She took her party and her trunks and departed this afternoon.”

  His stomach plummeted. He turned and raced up the stairs, down the hall, and burst into Silvie’s rooms. He stopped short in Silvie’s bedchamber.

  It was empty.

  He threw open the doors of the armoires. They were empty, too. He slid his hand beneath her mattress. No diamonds there.

  No anything.

  Jésus-Christ, she was truly gone! He looked around the empty chamber, incredulous and in shock.

  Mathias returned to the vestibule, moving slower down the stairs than he’d ascended them. His legs felt leaden, his insides cold and numb.

  The majordomo waited patiently at the bottom.

  “Did she leave me a note?” he asked. He hated the desperation in his voice, but at the
moment, he didn’t care.

  “No, my lord.”

  “A message of some kind with you or perhaps another member of the staff?”

  “Any message or note would be given to me, one way or the other. I’m afraid there is nothing, my lord.”

  “Where did she go?” he demanded, his frustration showing.

  “I’m afraid I couldn’t say, my lord.”

  “What is her name? How is she related to your master?”

  “My apologies, my lord, but again, I couldn’t say.”

  Wouldn’t say was more accurate. But he couldn’t blame the servant. Giving out information about one’s employer or his houseguest would surely result in the man’s dismissal.

  Mathias felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach. He couldn’t believe she’d left without saying good-bye. Or leaving a note.

  He couldn’t believe he’d misread her affections. Fool. You proposed marriage and declared your love. She neither accepted the former nor claimed the latter. She said she was leaving and she’d left.

  Mathias moved to the door. The servant was there promptly to open it for him.

  “One last question,” Mathias said.

  “Of course, my lord.”

  “The purse I gave you, the coin . . . Did you give that to the mademoiselle?”

  “Yes, my lord. I handed it to her personally, just as you requested. She took the purse with her when she left.”

  Mathias stepped outside, reeling. The door closed softly behind him.

  His love was rejected. But apparently his money was acceptable.

  Chapter Nine

  “You know, you should look happier, Montfort,” Sard said, stepping down from the carriage after him. “You are at Versailles.” He placed a hand on Mathias’s shoulder. “Look at it. It’s magnificent, beyond opulent. It is a fitting palace for the most powerful monarch in all of Christendom.”

  Mathias, having shared a carriage with the man from Paris to Versailles, thought nothing could be more annoying than his snoring. He thought wrong. Sard was annoying awake or asleep.

  He followed the Lieutenant General of Police into the palace. The servants and guards knew him well and Sard was left to walk through the corridors unchallenged.

  “Can you tell me again why the hell we’re here?” Mathias asked. He hated court, with all its ludicrous rules. It was hotter than Hades, and yet he was being forced to wear a periwig, as per the King’s command that every man of quality wear one at court.

  “The King wishes to speak to you. Probably about your assistance with the arrests at Navers’s gaming den. We caught nineteen that night. The only one we didn’t get was the young man with the diamonds.”

  At the mention of Silvie, his insides tightened. It had been two weeks since he’d discovered her gone. Thanks to her, agony and anger accompanied him wherever he went. The last thing he felt like doing was having an audience with the King.

  They stepped into the Hall of Mirrors, overcrowded with hundreds of courtiers. Curious looks were cast their way as he and Sard walked up the middle of the long corridor. His Majesty was easily spotted. Several carpeted steps higher than the throng before him, he stood in front of his solid silver throne.

  Mathias and Sard bowed deeply before him.

  “Your Majesty, this is the Marquis de Montfort,” Sard said as he and Mathias straightened.

  “Your Majesty,” Mathias bowed again, unsure what else to do. The King surprised him by climbing down a few steps and stopping before him.

  “Sard tells me you were invaluable in the arrests at Navers’s home. He has sung your praises, and his own.” King Louis gave his Lieutenant General a brief sidelong glance. “He has reminded me on more than a few occasions that he was the one to select you for the mission.”

  Sard simply smiled.

  “I was quite impressed with what you did, Montfort,” the King continued. “Sard tells me you didn’t require any persuasion and that you were eager to aid in enforcing my ban and worked diligently, demonstrating the utmost commitment to your mission.”

  Dieu, Sard had really played this up—for his benefit, so he’d look good.

  “It was an honor to be of assistance, Your Majesty,” Mathias said, hoping the audience with the King would end soon. There was no doubt about it; he had an intimidating quality about him. And Mathias was never one to be intimidated easily.

  “Your efforts have abounded at the palace, Montfort. You even managed to impress one of my daughters. She thinks quite highly of your character. I find I share her opinion.” The King smiled. “In light of that, I’ve decided to give you a reward.”

  “A reward, Your Majesty?”

  “Yes, an honor bestowed upon you, by me.”

  “No reward is necessary, Sire.”

  “I disagree,” the King announced with finality.

  Clearly, there would be no debate over it. He was going to keep quiet, take his “reward,” and leave. Soon, he hoped.

  “I’ve decided to give you the hand of the very daughter you’ve impressed so much.”

  Mathias froze, as did his breathing. There was no way he had heard that correctly.

  “You . . . wish me to marry your daughter, Your Majesty?” Praying there was some sort of misunderstanding.

  “Yes, you’re not married and it is an honor,” the King stressed again, sounding irked that Mathias was not ecstatic over this madness. Merde.

  He felt as though he’d stepped into some sort of bad dream. He was being strong-armed into a marriage.

  Sard placed a hand on Mathias’s shoulder again. “Of course, the Marquis de Montfort knows that, Sire. He’s simply overwhelmed by your generosity, aren’t you?” Sard squeezed his shoulder.

  Mathias cleared his throat. “Yes, this is definitely a surprise, Sire.”

  King Louis gave a nod. “It is understandable that you are astounded. It isn’t every day a man is offered a princess as a bride. I feel your marriage to my daughter would further demonstrate my disdain and intolerance for Basset. I have awarded the man who helped in enforcing the ban one of my own daughters.”

  Merde.

  “I’m sure you’re eager to meet your future bride, Montfort.” The King glanced about.

  About as eager as he would be to sever a limb. He’d been a devoted bachelor. He’d only ever met one woman whom he’d wanted to marry, and she had disappeared.

  “Where is Princess Gabrielle?” the King snapped at those around him. Perfect. The man wasn’t in one of his more genial moods today.

  Mathias simply had to get out of this ludicrous situation. Under no circumstances was he marrying “Princess Gabrielle.”

  “Here I am, Sire.” A too familiar voice snagged his attention.

  There was Silvie, elegantly curtsying before the King at the bottom of the steps. Holding her gown, she ascended the steps, and stopped to stand beside her father.

  Mathias stood there, mouth agape, barely breathing. Mother of God, she’s a princess . . .

  Sard slapped his arm. He shot him a look. It was then he noticed Sard and the entire throng in the Hall of Mirrors were in a deep curtsy or bow.

  Quickly, Mathias bowed before the King’s daughter. Merde. He’d deflowered the King’s daughter. A princess. Princess Gabrielle. He’d deflowered a princess. He’d had her numerous times in various ways. He’d thoroughly debauched her.

  That’s perfect, Mathias. If the King finds out what you did with his daughter, you are a dead man.

  “You may rise, sir,” she said to him.

  He straightened. Her expression schooled, she was standing two steps above him, her hands folded in front of her.

  She’d put him through two weeks of hell, thinking she’d not had any affection for him. Clearly, she’d been behind this “reward” of his.

  He couldn’t be more overjoyed.

  Seeing her again, being this close to her made his heart ache. He wanted nothing more than to touch her, pull her into his arms, but the King and his enti
re court were watching.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.” She held out her hand.

  Eager, he took it and pressed a kiss to her knuckle. “The pleasure is all mine, Princess.” Mathias turned to the King. “Your daughter is beautiful, Sire. I am delighted and honored to have her hand in marriage.”

  The King gave a nod then descended the steps. “It’s too warm in here,” he complained and headed to the gardens, the court following behind.

  Only when the crowd had moved away, and all but completely dissipated did his princess speak again. Her eyes softened, the love he’d seen on oh so many days and nights reflected in their depths. “I know you are angry with me, Mathias. Please understand, as much as I longed to, I couldn’t leave you a note telling you how much I love you. How I want to be your wife and accept your marriage proposal—until I was able to convince the King that he should reward you with me. It is something my father often does—gives his daughters away in marriage as gifts or rewards. And I do love you, Mathias. So very much. I swear that from now on, there will be no more secrets between us.”

  Mischief twinkled in her dark eyes. “You know, I’ve been told I should be honest with my future husband. That I shouldn’t try to trick him on our wedding night. I think it’s only right that I inform you, I’m not a virgin.”

  His lips twitched as he fought back a smile. “We have something in common. Neither am I.”

  “I also want you to know I have a difficult time sleeping at night. Especially if there is something hard in my bed.”

  Mathias couldn’t hold back his smile. “That’s understandable. I’ve heard that beautiful princesses are very sensitive that way. I fear I may exacerbate the problem, Princess.”

  “Princess of snow?” she gently teased.

  “Princess of my heart. Princess that I love. The only Princess for me.”

  “And will you ride off with her, taking her from this palace, and bring her to your castle?”

  “Indeed.” He took her hand and placed it over his heart. “I will bring her to my kingdom, the one we create with our very own magic, where I shall cherish and love her—ever after.”