Orléans sighed as if he had heard this refrain before. ‘Mademoiselle, I shall tell you this: all of Paris believes that I am at the command of my mistresses – first Madame de Genlis and now my Fanny. Although I am devoted to her every desire, I am not a slave to the fantasies and whims of women. I am guided by men of intellect and my own convictions. At present, I cannot see Madame Elliot because she is a royalist and favours the King. I am at odds with the King, as you know, and I am most unlikely to be persuaded from that position . . . by any person.’ He touched my cheek again and gently moved the strands of my hair from it. ‘But I should never dream of disowning her. She is as dear as a sister to me and she knows that well enough.’

I opened my mouth, wishing to make some defence of Mrs Elliot and the reduction of her settlement, but before I could, he raised his finger to my lips.

‘Hush. I will hear no more complaints.’ He kissed me once more. ‘Only pleasures.’

With that, he rose and stretched by placing his hands at the small of his back. His nightcap had fallen from his head during our exertions and his once fashionably curled hair stood out like a lion’s mane on either side of his head.

‘I will have returned to Valenciennes by the time you wake tomorrow,’ said he, moving to make use of his bidet. I lowered my eyes in a show of modesty. ‘But I dare say I shall return to you in fine health by evening. They will never permit me beyond the cannons. I am of far more value to the nation alive than dead.’ There was a wryness in the Duke’s tone, which seemed to mask a certain weariness beneath it.

Upon his departure, La Volière was enveloped by a night silence. I listened for his footsteps shuffling their retreat before I turned and went to the chair upon which my attire had been discarded. I rummaged amidst my effects for my pair of pockets and withdrew that one object which I never failed to carry upon my person. I unlatched the etched gold case of the watch Allenham had given me in Brussels and admired its handsome white face, feeling its steady pulse in my hand. ‘Constant, comme mon coeur’, it read. My little companion had travelled with me upon that long night when I had fled the Hôtel l’Impératrice, ticking all the while like a furiously beating heart.

I returned to my dishevelled bed and, with the watch against my breast, curled myself into the twisted sheets, tight and small, until sleep arrived at last and deadened me.

Chapter 14