Stepsister(29)

Goggle-eyed, they nodded back. Behind the driver, a dozen trunks were lashed to the carriage’s roof. On top of them sat a troop of acrobats, one of whom was juggling knives blindfolded. Next to her a fire-breather blew lazy smoke rings; a magician caught them and turned them into coins. Musicians held their instruments as if at a concert hall awaiting their conductor. Isabelle was spellbound.

The carriage door opened, and a man stepped out. Isabelle glimpsed a pair of mesmerizing amber eyes, a sweep of black braids, the flash of a gold earring. The man started to clap. The others joined him. The applause was thunderous. Then the man waved his hand and it stopped.

“That was quite the duel, mademoiselle!” he said to Isabelle. “We saw you from the road and pulled in to help, but before I could even get my door open, Nelson took matters into his own hands. Paws, I should say. Though I shouldn’t have left my pistol lying on the seat. Have you ever met a monkey who could resist a silver pistol?” He suddenly snapped his fingers. “Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself.”

He took off his hat, bowed, then straightened again, and with a smile—one so beguiling that in a single day in Marseille it had inspired three sea captains to set sail for Cape Horn, a duchess to run off with her gardener, and a man named Montgolfier to invent the hot-air balloon—said, “The Marquis de la Chance, at your service.”

As the words left his lips, the musicians shot to their feet atop the carriage and played a rousing fanfare.

The marquis winced. Turning to them, he said, “A bit much for the country, don’t you think?”

The music stopped. The French horns looked down at their shoes. The trumpeter polished an imaginary speck off his instrument.

Isabelle, who’d dipped a curtsy, and pulled a stunned Tavi down with her, now rose. “Isabelle de la Paumé, Your Grace. And this is my sister Octavia. We are …” What? she wondered. Shocked? Stunned? Utterly astonished? “… pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“I wonder if you could tell me how to get to the Chateau Rigolade,” the marquis said. “I’m under the impression that it’s somewhere around here, but we’re a bit lost. I won it.”

“You won it?” Tavi echoed, clearly baffled.

“Yes, in a game of cards. I needed somewhere to go. I and my household.” He gestured to the carriage. “Paris is chaos at the moment, with that beast Volkmar on the rampage. And I require peace and quiet. I’m writing a play, you see.”

“You’re a playwright, sir?” Isabelle asked.

“Not one bit,” the marquis said. “Never even put pen to paper before. But I’m always doing things I can’t do. Otherwise, I’d never get to do them.”

As Isabelle tried to follow that logic, the marquis said, “Now, about the chateau …”

Isabelle quickly gave him directions. “It’s not far. Turn left at the end of our drive. Follow the road for a mile. When you come to a fork in the road …”

The marquis’s eyes lit up. “A fork in the road! How wonderful! I love forks in the road! They lead to opportunity!”

“Change!” shouted an acrobat.

“Adventure!” trilled a musician.

“Excitement!” crowed the fire-breather.

Isabelle looked between the marquis and his friends uncertainly. “Yes, well … when you come to this fork, make a right. Keep on for another half mile or so, and you’ll see the drive. The chateau itself sits on a rise. You can’t miss it.”

“We are forever in your debt,” said the marquis. “But before we leave, I would like to offer you a bit of advice …”

The marquis walked up to Isabelle and took her hands in his. She caught her breath. His touch felt like lightning had just ripped through the air. Like she’d stolen a bag of diamonds. Found a chest full of gold.

But as they stood close, Isabelle saw that the merriment that lit his eyes, the ebullience that animated his every movement, the teasing challenge that sparkled in his voice, were all gone, replaced by a sudden, unnerving ferocity.

“You are good with a sword, but not good enough,” he said to her. “Practice. Become faster. Better. There are worse creatures afoot in France than chicken thieves. Far worse. Promise me, young Isabelle. Promise me.”

It seemed very important to him that she learn to protect herself. She had no idea why, but he was clearly not going to let go of her until she agreed to his demand. “I—I promise, Your Grace,” she said.

“Good,” the marquis said, releasing her. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me—”

Ka-blam!

Another bullet whistled through the air. It hit the weather vane on top of the barn and sent it spinning. It sent Tavi running for cover.

It also spooked the horses.

Whinnying and wild-eyed, they lurched forward in their harnesses, wrenching the carriage around the circular drive so violently that it went up on two wheels and teetered there for a few heart-stopping seconds. The driver threw himself across his seat. Everyone on the roof leaned over. The marquis ran for the carriage, caught hold of the open door, and hung his full weight on it. Finally, the wheels slammed back down. The carriage careened under the birch tree, and as it did, the monkeys dropped out of the branches onto its roof. The marquis, safely inside now, stretched across the magician and the cook and leaned out of the window.