“I keep close watch on those whom he takes into his confidence.”

“I served his father.”

“And now you must serve the son.”

“I already do.”

“This is not a case of digging flowerbeds.”

Jacques looked away, then back. “What is it you would have me do?”

“What is the news from court?” Henriette asked Sophie as the girl smoothed her lady’s gowns out on the bed.

“Everyone’s talking about the masked ball tomorrow.”

A short, round-faced chambermaid entered the room with a tray on which sat a bowl of soup and plate of bread. She put the tray on the table and turned quickly away.

“What is your name, again, miss?” Henriette asked.

The maid glanced back. “Marie, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Marie,” said Henriette, and Marie skittered out.

Morning sunlight and shadows flickered across the floor of the King’s bedchamber. Louis stirred, turned, and stretched his arms out from beneath the blankets. Then he opened his eyes to find Philippe standing over him. Bontemps stood behind, his expression hard to decipher.

Louis pushed himself up and blinked. “Good morning, brother. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to watch a piece of theater.”

“In my bedroom?”

“Yes. It’s called the Grand Levee. A comedy of manners with tragic undertones.”

Louis, intrigued, got out of bed. His barber sat him down for his morning shave. As the barber applied the lather and drew the razor along the King’s face, Philippe explained.

“From now on, your life does not belong to you. All you do is designed to be seen and admired. Dressing, shaving, eating, drinking. They are no longer actions but a performance. All noblemen at court are required to present themselves at the appointed hour. Only a few, however, will be given the privilege of entering, observing, and in some cases, participating.”

The barber made the last stroke with the razor and a valet held a mirror up for Louis to check the work. Louis tilted the mirror slightly, and saw reflected in the doorway a queue of nobles waiting to enter the room. They shifted impatiently from one foot to the other. Rohan and Louvois were first in line.

Philippe nodded at the footman by the door, who in turn held out his hand, indicating it was time to enter. The nobles moved into the room. An anxious noble stepped forward but was pushed aside by Cassel, who looked down his nose. “Dukes before marquises, I believe,” he said. The noble frowned and then stepped forward again, only to be pushed back by Montcourt. “I’m with the duke,” Montcourt muttered.

Rohan, Louvois, Cassel, and Montcourt were escorted to a corner where they stood to watch the King’s morning rituals. The other nobles filed in and out in a quiet, orderly fashion, each bowing in turn.

“All entrances and exits will be supervised,” Philippe told Louis. “Self-control and order are paramount.” Then he added, “Basically, it’s the opposite of fucking.”