Page 2 of The Truth About Myths
"I'll go for Luis. My brother will know what to do. That animal is mad—"
The governess dug her fingers into her arms. "His Majesty is extremely busy—"
"I will speak with my brother." She spoke through clenched teeth and stomped her feet. "You can't stop me."
A flush rose on the governess's round cheeks. "You must forget about the ducks. Oh, don't you see? This is nature's way of... They were mating."
Chapter 1
Lisbon, twelve years later
"The excess of a virtue is a vice."Greek Proverb
"Dearclockonthewall, if you don't speed your turns, tonight you'll sleep without a cog," Isabel muttered under her breath and tore her gaze from the ornery Swiss piece. Facing her audience, she affected a warrior pose, bracing her feet and inflating her chest. "Who am I?"
"I know!" Lady Philipa said, bouncing on the upholstered settee. "Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt."
There. This was fun. A quiet night with her maids of honor, tucked into her private wing, playing games…Who needed her brother's revelries? "Close, but no," Isabel said.
"Give us another hint." Lady Anne Daun clapped her hands, a smile lighting up her gentle blue eyes.
Isabel tapped her chin. What else could she say without spoiling the fun? Before she could think of the next clue, discordant notes invaded their privacy. It sounded suspiciously like an orchestra warming up. Not fair. How could she compete with professional musicians? Clenching her hands, Isabel raised her voice, hoping no one else had noticed it. "I lived in the Middle Ages."
Lady Dolores rose from the settee. "Ha! The hero of the Great Navigations—Vasco da Gama."
Isabel lifted her brows at her youngest maid-of-honor. "Dear, the game's name is Guess the Powerful Woman."
Dolly pouted, patting her blond curls and fluttering her eyelids. "Oops."
The orchestra turned louder. Her ladies talked in parallel, glancing at the door. Isabel was losing their attention. No, she refused to forfeit this battle.
Frantically, she gazed at the drawing-room walls, searching for a distraction. Light glinted off the ancient coat of armor. Thinking fast, Isabel raided the steel knight for a breastplate.
Sorry, El Cid, but my brother has an orchestra.
Donning the rusty protection, she cleared her throat. The famous quote came to her in a flash of memory. "They admonished me to adopt feminine clothes. I refuse. As for other duties of women, there are plenty of other women to perform them."
Her ladies-in-waiting eyed her from their perches, their eyes round, their murmured voices punctuated by the tick-tick of the Swiss clock. Lady Dolores yawned.
As a last resort, Isabel went to the hearth and placed her foot inside. "Oh, please don't burn me. God sent me to make France independent from English tyranny."
"Joan of Arc," Lady Anne Daun said.
Isabel laughed. "You are very right."
Everyone clapped.
The music outside turned louder.
Philipa glanced at the door, her embroidery forgotten. "What do you suppose they are doing tonight?"
Dancing, smoking, drinking, making illicit assignations… Who knew what else? Her clique of maids of honor was the crème de la crème of Portuguese society. With her guidance, they would set the standard for high morals, and no group of carousing rakes would corrupt them. "Nothing appropriate for unmarried ladies, I assure you."
"I heard His Majesty invited Madam Gardenia to sing. She canceled her nightly performance just to indulge him," Dolly said in a stage whisper.
OhsandAhsburst from all around the room. Isabel hoped her brother's taste for music was all the virtuosa indulged.
Dolly smiled wistfully. "I would die to meet Signorina Gardenia. We have so much in common. Messier Dumas told the world she was the best soprano, and Vermeil said my nose is Portugal's most beautiful, well, nose."
