Louvois crossed his arms. “We cannot leave while the Queen is sick. The King will not have it.”

“Perhaps that is his intention.”

“Many nobles ride in for the carousel of fashion,” said Louvois. “They will ride out again afterwards. This is our moment to make our case and let the message fan out to all four corners of the country. To the ears of many more who will join in our opposition. The building of the Versailles palace must be stopped. Not even a king can stop a tide.”

Chevalier lunged with his sword, laughing, as Philippe grinned and parried with his own weapon. A platter of fruits and meats sat on Philippe’s table, a snack brought in by order of the King’s brother but as of yet untouched.

“Touché!” cried Chevalier as his sword came up and knocked Philippe’s away. Chevalier stepped close, put the point of his sword against Philippe’s throat then slowly drew it down his chest.

“A maid comes crying to you and tells you she has information on the royal baby,” Chevalier said teasingly as the sword tip paused just above Philippe’s crotch. “And now she’s dead. Now we’re told we cannot move from Versailles because the Queen is unwell. I wonder. What is your brother hiding?”

The fun of play instantly gone, Philippe stepped back and stared. “You be careful about what you say and how loudly you say it.”

“Perhaps the baby was alive after all.”

“We saw the child buried.”

“We saw a box. Your brother thinks you weak. A bitch! You have more power than you realize. Use it.”

Philippe went to the table and picked up a pastry. “We’re still cut from the same cloth. Raised under the same roof.” Then he dropped the pastry and turned to look at Chevalier. His face suddenly lightened. He grabbed Chevalier and kissed him. “Of course!”

“What’s so funny?”

“Come!” said the King’s brother. “If I’m going to be a bitch I may as well look like one.”

Henriette’s ladies dressed her in a new gown, a sun-yellow dress of silk with gems sewn along the neckline. She would wear it to the Carousel of Fabrics. Philippe, of course, would care little for her appearance except, perhaps, to chide her. On the other hand, the King…

The door to her apartment opened. Louis entered, head high, adorned in a plum coat with an ermine collar, an embroidered vest, and a gold chain around his neck. His dark hair was swept back and his gaze was bright with passion.

Henriette looked down but Louis said, “Do not avert your eyes from a king. Especially when you look as you do right now.” He waved his hand at the ladies-in-waiting. “Leave us.” The ladies scurried off into adjoining rooms.

Louis walked toward Henriette. “You were never more beautiful than at this moment. Now, take it off.”