Chevalier began to struggle, his face growing red with the effort.

“I never knew a Scotsman,” said Philippe. “But now I know what a sporran’s really for.”

Chevalier bucked against Philippe’s weight. He could see the enraged passion in the warrior’s eyes as well as the bulge of his trousers. “Let me be!”

Philippe stayed atop Chevalier, shaking his head. Then he got up and waved Chevalier away. Chevalier scrambled from the bed and threw the door open, startling Henriette and the young chambermaid fluffing cushions on a chair. Philippe followed, breathing hard, his eyes narrowed, his passion unsated. He looked at Henriette then at the chambermaid.

“Have you ever tasted champagne?” he asked her.

The maid looked desperately at Henriette then at Philippe. She slowly shook her head.

“You may be about to,” said Philippe. He took the maid’s arm, forced her into the bedroom, and slammed the door. Henriette stared after them, her hands to her mouth.

Chevalier picked up Philippe’s wine goblet then put it down. “Honesty,” he said, “I don’t know what you see in him.”

“You’re home,” said Marie-Therese, “but you have not arrived.” She stood in the King’s outer chamber watching her husband as he gazed from the window at a visible portion of the palace under construction.

“The body travels on wheels, the soul on foot,” he replied.

“You’re not a faithful man. You can deny it but I see it in your eyes. As only a wife can.” Louis glanced at her then back out the window. There was brief sorrow in his eyes, a sad understanding, that he did not want her to witness. “I had never seen you in love until you came to Versailles,” she continued. “I’d never seen it shine inside you. And now you would persuade the world to share in it. Even those who wish you ill.”

“Not all of them may come.”

“You’re reaching for the stick when you should offer the carrot. After all, what is it that men truly want?”

Louis looked at her again.

“The answer is simple,” she said. “If you’re a woman.”

Henriette sat by herself in one of the ladies’ sunny salons, a book in her lap, gazing forlornly at the pages but not seeming to read. Louise and the Montespan nibbled from a dish of dates and watched her from the far side of the room.

“She looks so sad,” said Louise.

The Montespan tossed her head and made a face. “I wonder why.”

“It’s not for us to judge.”

“What else are we going to do all day?” She picked another date.

“Athenais, do you recall the favor I asked of you?”

The Montespan took a bite. “Of course.”

“Bontemps has told me the King has asked for time alone in the chapel this afternoon. Perhaps… perhaps today is a good day to thank God for our victory.”

“Lucky me.”