The first dish arrived, a cold collation of dressed meats; fowl, beef and game prettily laid out upon a vast dish.
A footman bent to offer her first choice. She slid an unhappy glance at him as she took a thin slice of chicken, expecting to see mockery or contempt in his face, but was touched to find him regarding her with anxious concern.
It almost made her break out in tears. Relief brought a sting of water to her eyes, but she smiled shyly.
The young man’s eyes gravely reassured her. He backed towards the next guest, still looking at her, his wooden features dissolving into gentleness.
She realised that she did not even know his name. They had so many servants, and she had been too shy to get on close terms with them. Was this Joseph or Will? She never knew which was which, for their well-trained faces looked so much alike above the identical livery they wore.
The guest on her left leaned forward, one elbow on the table, and insolently surveyed her, his glass wavering in his hand. A splash of red wine fell upon the damask cloth. She watched it broaden into a shape like a death’s head.
‘By God, Madame,’ the young man thickly murmured, ‘you’re a damned beauty. Rendel must be mad. Are you lonely here?’
She looked at him with frosty dignity. He was very young, she saw, and she did not fear him.
‘Eat your beef, sir,’ she said coldly, in the tone a nurse uses to a naughty child.
He gazed at her, glazed and uncertain. ‘Cruel she,’ he pronounced lamely, forking up some beef. ‘So beautiful and yet cruel.’
The door opened behind her. The guests looked up and a hush fell upon the noisy room. One by one they struggled to their feet and made bows and curtsies.
Cornelia turned, too, and saw the King sleepily surveying the room with a queer smile on his ugly, crooked mouth. She bent her head and sank to the floor in a curtsy. He stepped forward and raised her.
‘Nay, Madame. We stand on no ceremony when I visit my friends. Rendel, good evening. I heard you had friends to sup and took leave to join you.’ He looked at the chair beside Cornelia. ‘My place?’
Rendel had joined them. He was frowning now. He looked hard at the King, who, dark eyes amused, smiled sleepily back.
‘You will not object if I sit with your wife, friend?’
Rendel hesitated.
One of the guests called out drunkenly, ‘Oh, Rendel is a husband after your heart, your Majesty. He is an easy husband so long as his wife turns a blind eye to his own tricks.’
The King raised one eyebrow and watched Rendel thoughtfully. ‘My dear fellow, is it so?’
Cornelia, angry, flushed, drew out the empty chair. ‘Will your Majesty not join us?’ Her eyes threw defiance at Rendel. He should see that she could play this game as well as he.
Smiling, the King sat down. Rendel stood, indecisive for a moment, then turned on his heel and went back to his own seat.
The footmen hurried to serve the King. One went tearing down to the kitchen to warn the cook to make more of an effort. The King watched as his glass was filled, then smiled at the footman and thanked him. Another, back bent obsequiously, offered a loaded dish of meat. The King gestured easily and turned to smile at Cornelia.
‘I was about to sit down to supper when someone mentioned Rendel’s supper party. I decided to join you all.’ He lounged casually in his chair, watching her face from half-closed eyes. ‘I wondered if I might find you here, you know. Rendel is a friend of mine, but he’s a hot-headed, wild fellow. He needs careful handling.’
She met his eyes frankly. ‘Yes, Sire?’
He surveyed her from beneath those heavy lids. ‘If you suddenly feel faint, I will cover your retreat.’
She shook her head defiantly. ‘You are very kind, but I shall not feel faint.’
He looked amused. ‘Are you quite sure?’
‘Certain,’ she said firmly.
He raised his glass in a toast, smiling intimately at her. ‘You are as brave as you are pretty, my dear.’
She blushed and looked away. As she turned her eyes met those of her husband. He was lying back in his chair, watching her, a heavy frown on his handsome face. As their eyes clashed, he smiled mockingly, leaned over and kissed Kitty’s naked shoulder, his hand fondling her.
The King put his hand over Cornelia’s clenched fingers. ‘Do you know, I have a great desire to see the new portrait of Rendel of which he has spoken. Will you show me your portrait gallery?’