Free Storm Winds by Iris Johansen Page B

mystery cloaked in his black velvet, cynical wisdom, wicked wit, and, infrequently, a gentleness all the more precious for its rarity. Juliette realized she had scarcely noticed Philippe Andreas while he was in the same room with Jean Marc, and now she had to struggle to recall what he looked like. “Your Philippe is comely enough, I suppose.”
    “He’s much handsomer than Jean Marc.”
    “Where is this Ile du Lion?” Juliette asked in order to change the subject.
    “It’s in the Golfe du Lion, off the coast of Marseilles.”
    “It’s your home?”
    “No, my home is in Vasaro, near Grasse.” A note of pride sounded in Catherine’s voice. “Perhaps you’ve heard of Vasaro? We grow flowers for the making of perfume. Philippe says Vasaro is quite famous for its essences.”
    “I’ve never heard of it.” Juliette glanced back at Catherine and grimaced. “But that’s not unusual. The ladies and gentlemen of the court seldom converse about the outside world. They gossip only about themselves.”
    “I hear Versailles is the most beautiful place on the earth,” Catherine said softly. “How lucky you are to live with such magnificence.”
    “If your home is in Grasse, why do you live at Ile du Lion?”
    “My parents died of smallpox when I was four and Jean Marc’s father brought me to live with him and Jean Marc on the Ile du Lion. I’ll live there until I’m old enough to manage Vasaro myself. They have a splendid château that’s much grander than the manor house at Vasaro.” She hurried on as if afraid she had hurt Juliette’s feelings. “But, of course, I’m sure your home at Versailles is much nicer than the château or Vasaro.”
    “Home?” Juliette experienced a sense of loss that startled her. What would it be like to have one settled place in which to live, not to have to travel from Paris toVersailles to Fontainebleau and all the other royal residences at the whim of Her Majesty? “I have no home there. We occupy a small apartment in the palace.” She shrugged. “Not that it matters. I have my paints.”
    “I noticed your painting when I first came into Jean Marc’s chamber. It’s quite wonderful. You are very clever.”
    “Yes, I am.”
    Catherine suddenly laughed. “You shouldn’t agree with me. My governess says a young lady should be modest about her accomplishments.”
    “But we’ve already discovered what a fool your governess is.” A twinkle appeared in Juliette’s eyes. “You should have learned your lesson not to pay her any heed.”
    Catherine’s eyes widened in horror. “You think I should not obey her?”
    “Of course, you should not o—” Juliette stopped as she met Catherine’s gaze. The girl’s fragility reminded her of one of the Chinese vases in the queen’s cabinet, and if Claire was anything like Marguerite … Juliette decided to temper her words. “Perhaps you should fight her only on important matters.” She frowned. “But you must not let her bind you again.”
    “I shouldn’t have been so vain. I’m sure she didn’t mean to cause me distress.”
    “No?” Juliette tried to keep the skepticism from her voice. Perhaps this Claire wasn’t a gargoyle like Marguerite but she was obviously not overly intelligent. “Then you must make sure she knows when you’re in distress. Do you understand?”
    “I’m not a fool,” Catherine said with dignity. “I know I should have told Jean Marc the corset was too tight.”
    “Then why didn’t you?”
    Bright scarlet flowed once again under Catherine’s fair skin. “Philippe …”
    Juliette started to laugh. “You’re besotted with that handsome peacock.”
    Catherine rounded on her fiercely. “He’s not a peacock. He’s kind and manly and—”
    Juliette held up her hand to stop the passionate flow. “I meant no disrespect. It’s just my way. Tell me, have you lain with him yet?”
    Catherine frowned in puzzlement. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    Juliette gestured impatiently.