Free Enchantress of Paris by Marci Jefferson Page A

He wouldn’t get secrets that would damage King Louis from me. “I may not love my uncle, but I will be sorry to see you take arms against him.” I smiled sweetly. “My uncle will learn of it eventually. Now. Let me see your palm, and I shall tell you whether you’ll rule England again.”
    He laughed, opening his hand to me.
    I glanced at it quickly, before anyone could accuse me of witchery. Fractured at the beginning, his solar line deepened, then ran long. “Stay your course, sly king. You will soon be restored.” I took a sip of wine.
    He grinned. “Keep my alliance with Spain a secret?”
    Agreeing would be siding against my uncle. I couldn’t help it. I nodded. “You should give the cardinal your word that you will ally with France if you regain England.”
    King Charles nodded his agreement. He lifted his glass, and I clinked mine against it. “Clever girl. I don’t see why King Louis spends so much time with Olympia.”
    What could I say? Olympia uses love potions to keep the king entranced. “People call her the charming one.”
    He turned to watch Hortense spin gracefully on the dancing floor. His admiration was plain. “And is Hortense clever and charming like her sisters?”
    â€œShe is both.” I had to smile at his obvious fascination. An idea struck me. One that might get Hortense a crown. “And she will be of marriageable age in little more than a year.”
    He nodded appreciatively. “Is it true Cardinal Mazarin intends to make her his heir?”
    Is that what people are saying? “She is his favorite. To marry her would secure an alliance with France.”
    Just then I spotted my uncle, watching us from the corner of the chamber. He curled one edge of his mustache and moved toward us. Women stopped dancing to curtsy as he passed.
    â€œYour Eminence,” I said.
    King Charles bowed to him, a mere courtesy since he wasn’t Catholic. “The Eminent Mazarin. Might we have a private word?”
    My uncle gestured toward the farthest door, toward his library and private study. “Just what I was hoping for.”
    I watched them leave. God, don’t let Charles betray me.
    Monsieur muttered at my ear, “What have you done, cousin?”
    I’d proven myself either a liability or an asset, all depending on what Charles told my uncle.
    *   *   *
    We drank wine and played basset long into the night. Venelle insisted on putting Hortense and Marianne to bed early. It was after midnight when I escorted the last of my guests to their carriages. The servants doused the courtyard torches, and I turned to find my uncle waiting on the front steps.
    â€œYou made an impression on King Charles of England.”
    â€œSo did the lovely Hortense.” I held my breath.
    â€œBut what did he tell you of his plans?”
    Had King Charles told him? Was this a test? My future could depend on my answer. “Political shifts may force him to fight for Spain, but he will remember your generosity when he regains England’s throne.”
    He nodded. “That is what my spies suspected.”
    I held my breath. “Did he mention Hortense?”
    â€œI couldn’t marry Hortense to anyone who’d side with Condé against France.”
    I felt sick. I might have passed my test, but I’d betrayed a king and spoiled my sister’s chance at a crown.
    â€œCarnival season is almost over. When Lent begins, people will take to salons instead of balls and fêtes. They will blabber until the summer war campaigns begin. They may discuss things I need to know.” He walked up the steps. “You can expect invitations.”
    â€œAnd … the convent?”
    He didn’t turn back. “Not until the summer war campaigns begin.”

 
    CHAPTER 9
    I took the cardinal’s best carriage to the best quarters in Paris in the next months. At Scudéry’s, women