I swallowed. It had not been my intention to imply this, nor did I wish to resume this role. Now that Madame had been safely brought to bed and was past her period of lying-in I could not imagine she would countenance it.

‘Monseigneur, if you will forgive me, I do not believe myself strong enough to bear that . . . Why, I fear it is sure to kill me . . . in my current weakened state.’

There was a hint of disappointment in his expression, and he gently removed his hand.

‘But . . .’ I began, seizing the opportunity, ‘I should like, if you will allow, to make a request of you . . .’

Orléans raised an intrigued eyebrow.

‘I wish to pay a call upon Mrs Elliot, in Meudon. It has been a great while since I have seen her. Madame de Buffon would not approve if she were to know . . . and for this short journey, as you well know, I require a passport.’

Orléans continued to regard me, his expression unaltered.

‘And you would have me procure one for you?’

‘If . . . I may beg one, monseigneur,’ I replied, my eyes turned downward.

He let out a long sigh.

‘You know I have it not in my power to grant such things. My influence is not . . . recognized for such matters.’

‘But you are a friend to those who do have it within their authority.’

‘I am,’ he said with caution. He studied me for a spell through weary, sad eyes. For a moment, I feared he would have me barter for this privilege. I drew an anxious breath.

‘I shall return to you,’ I whispered, ‘fully restored to health.’

At that he laughed, so loudly in fact that Biron, Beaujolais and Montpensier each turned their heads to look.

Orléans patted my knee lightly, with a jesting but reassuring hand. It was not the touch of a lover. Rather, it was a gesture exchanged between two intimate friends who understood what the future held, and that the day of their parting had arrived.

Chapter 22

IT WAS ON the following night, as Lucy was about to undress me, that there came a rap upon my dressing-room door. The instant I heard it I froze, for such a sound at that hour regularly signified but one thing: the appearance of Orléans. However, I was both relieved and surprised to find Romain standing before me. He paid me a bow.

‘Monsieur Égalité has instructed me to present you with this,’ said he, removing a letter from his waistcoat pocket and placing it in my hand.

‘He has procured a passport!’ I cried in astonishment.

‘Yes, mademoiselle, for tomorrow morning.’

‘Tomorrow?’ I echoed. This was as sudden as it had been unexpected, but it presented me with an opportunity I could not well refuse. So long as I remained uncertain of Mrs Elliot’s plans, I could not hazard delaying a single day more.