Page 1 of Lord Appleby's Gorgeous Imposter
Prologue
September 1, 1792
rue du Four
Saint-Germain-des-Prés, Paris
“Madeleine? Madeleine!”
Papa was yelling up the stairs, crazed, in a rush.
Vivi’s mama put a hand to her forehead. “Oh, he must not scream,” she moaned to the three girls. “The servants will hear and run for those brutes in the tribunal!”
But Papa kept shouting for Mama.
Vivi glanced at her older sister, Diane, who shook her head at her. They both knew Vivi’s mama was the only person who could ever calm their father.
“Madeleine!Ma chou chou!” Papa called her to him. Then, of a sudden, he stood—his arms wide and his hands to the frame—and paused in the doorway.
Mama threw down the gown she was folding and ran toward him. A hand to his cheek, she whispered. “Monsieur, be quiet, please. You will awaken all in the house.”
Vivi winced. Her mother was right. They had to leave soon and without notice.
“Keep packing,” Diane urged Vivi on a whisper. Her next older half-sister, who was the practical one among the three girls, had already packed her treasured gowns. Di was carefulabout so much, especially demanding green gowns to enhance her beautiful copper hair and hazel eyes. “We must have all we can carry, and you cannot allow anything to deter you.”
“Ba. All this isfroufrou,” said their oldest sister Charmaine with a flourish of her hands at her clothes piling up in her own large valise. “The only things we need are gold and our jewels.”
Vivi cringed at Charmaine’s impertinence.
Diane scoffed. “Char, this is your role!Tragedienne!”
Charmaine gave herself airs as a lady to be saved by a handsome prince. “Better than you,ma poule!” she shot back, and spun to their father. “Wherearethe diamonds? Where did you pack them? We must know!”
Their father glared at his oldest child with distaste at her insolence. His stare was not a new expression to bestow on the fifteen-year-old. “You need to know only how to pack,cherie. Do it.”
Diane raised a brow at Charmaine. “And stop whining.”
Charmaine snapped shut the top of her tiny goldétuiin which she always carried her perfume. “Whine? I am the practical one here. Even Madeleine will not admit—” Charmaine was never respectful to Vivi’s mama, always addressing her by her given name.
“Charmaine,” seethed their father, “you try me too often.”
Diane clamped a hand on Charmaine’s wrist. “Fill your valise.”
“You brought these fiends on us, Di, with your visits up the street to the neighborhood committee.” Charmaine had followed Diane to the Section meetings at the crossroads of rue du Four. The members of the Bonnet-Rouge neighborhood section yesterday threatened many in the local area with arrest. Diane had run home and told her father.
The vicomte was a liberal and had supported much of the government reforms…until the past year. He had brought themall to Paris two days ago from the country to get his money and the family heirlooms, but after Diane had told him about the Section’s threat, he had decided immediately to send the family out of Paris.
Charmaine took out her fears on criticizing Diane. “You fancy yourself asans-culotte, silly girl.”
“And you?” Diane replied. “You were out in theruellenear the kitchen trying to steal the scullery maid’s beau!”
“Stop this, girls!” Vivi’s mother scolded them.
“No!” Charmaine threw her fanciest fan into her valise and whirled on Diane again. “You’re a princess of the blood. Such a child. You haven’t even had your monthly flux yet!”
“I am old enough to listen and learn the right from wrong of politics,” Diane shot back. “Whereas you wouldn’t know a Jacobin from a Royalist.”
“Thank God, I say.”
