The Painter's Apprentice

Chapter 9

Even though Destan has given me a story to divert Lord Gardet's suspicions, debilitating headaches keep me in my room with the curtains drawn. It takes days for the fog to lift, but even then, I'm hesitant to leave my rooms. I'm out of my depth when it comes to deception and Destan's warning not to let my thoughts show on my face doesn't help either. I even practice what I'd say to Lord Gardet about the attack in front of the mirror, but it's no help. Instead, I turn down Lavernia's nightly offer to accompany her to some function. Neither a fancy court gown nor powder and rouge is going to make me feel comfortable in my skin when I haven't yet learned how to hide my feelings.

As I get ready to tuck into the dinner that was delivered to my chamber, I hear a quiet scratching at my door. I open it to find Lavernia armed with a white chemise and a pair of servants.

"Good evening," Lavernia says as she enters my studio. "I see you're up and about. I hope I am not disturbing your plans." She eyes my singular tray of food archly.

"No," I say with a laugh. "I do not have any plans to be disturbed."

"As I suspected!" Lavernia pushes me in the direction of my bedchamber. "Then I shall take you to the opera."

"The opera?" My stomach lurches at the thought of leaving my chambers.
"Yes. People are beginning to talk. It's time you left your studio and I am not letting you sit here in your room when they are performing Mozart." She unbuttons my Caraco jacket and pulls it off my shoulders before she lets her maids get to work.

"Lavernia... I can't wear that," I say when I see what style of dress she wants me to put on. It's a Robe a la Reine — a scandalous white dress of layered muslin that looks far too close to a chemise. "Not in public!"

"Nonsense! Everyone dresses boldly for the opera." She waves away my protestations with a flick of her hand. "You've seen me wear one before. With your complexion, no one will be able to complain let alone take their eyes off you."

I would have chosen something more conspicuous, but my mind is changed once the dress is slipped over my head. The muslin is thin and supple and dangerously soft as it brushes against my skin. I run my fingers over the flounces of fabric that line the wide neckline. "I fear I will never want to wear anything else," I confess.

"Now you see why the women of court prefer the style." Lavernia takes a wide, blue satin ribbon and knots it tightly around my waist, making the stitches on my side ache. "Such a lovely figure," she remarks. "A bit skinny, but you will fill out in due time." She pinches the tender flesh behind my arm.

"Ouch!" I swat her hand away and she laughs heartily.

Lavernia sends the girls away and does my makeup herself. It's more than I've ever worn, but she has done marvelous things to my features. A glance in the mirror confirms her skill with rouge — I look nothing like the girl who arrived at the palace. I'm not certain I want to leave that girl behind, but perhaps I will feel more capable of moving among the courtiers with this mask on.

"Am I ready?" I ask.

Lavernia sprays my décolletage with a sweet, floral perfume before she nods. "You are ready."

The halls that lead to the Royal Opera on the north side of the palace swarm with bodies. A roar of chatter fills the air and echoes back off the marble floors, but the crush of the crowd isn't what makes my head feel light. Wherever Lavernia leads me, eyes follow.

"Do not pay them any heed," she says as she leads me up the stairs to her Opera box.

"Why are they staring?" I hope it's not my dress.

"The story of the attack was last week's gossip, but the Maîtresse-en-titre and her companions are always worth staring at." She pulls aside a thick blue curtain to the box.