Becoming Josephine Read Online Free Page A

anything?”
    “
Non, merci.
” I walked toward the staircase dominating the hall and ran my hand along the worn banister.
    “Rose, the Marquis awaits our arrival,” Désirée said.
    “Of course.” I followed her, studying the rooms and their furnishings as we went.
    Despite the golden glow from oil lamps and candles, the house was cold and dark, like the stone of which it was made. Its depressive ambience lacked the luxury I had expected—so unlike the airy, wooden mansions of the Grands Blancs in Fort-Royal, decked with palms and wildflowers. Heavy drapes replaced the gauzy curtains that billowed on sea breezes I remembered from home. Cool air leaked under doorways and crept over icy marble floors, mingling with the stale air inside.
    Unimpressive furniture filled the rooms, save for one stunning table veneered with layers of priceless wood. Its gilded-bronze finish glinted in the firelight. I ran my fingers over the smooth veneer, warm from the heat of the fire. A perfect spot to play cards or read my tarot deck.
    “Have a seat, my dear. They’ll join us in a moment.”
    I settled into a blue silk chair facing Désirée. Where had Alexandre gone? He would greet his father, I assumed. I tried not to fidget.
    A servant assisted the Marquis into the room. Another gentleman followed, likely Alexandre’s brother, François. All three men resembled one another; proud chins and wide blue eyes distinguished them as family. I stood quickly.
    “You must be Rose.” The Marquis approached and took my hand in his. “Welcome. We’re happy you have arrived.” His smile was kind and his eyes crinkled at the corners.
    “Thank you, monsieur. I am thrilled to be here.” I returned his smile.
    “And this”—he motioned to François—“is my other son, François, your soon-to-be brother.”
    François bowed, creasing his stiff suit coat sewn with gold thread. “
Enchanté
, mademoiselle. Please forgive me, but I’m afraid I must go. I am late for an engagement.” He inclined his head toward me. “If you’ll excuse me.”
    “Of course.” I nodded and he hurried from the room.
    “Please make yourself at home, Rose,” the Marquis said. “We are family, after all.”
    “You’re very kind.” Relief washed over me. Désirée and the Marquis were lovely.
    When shown to my room to dress for supper, I cheered inwardly. Rest at last. I snatched the blanket at the foot of my bed and snuggled in by the fire. I relished the heat like an iguana scorching in a treetop under the tropical sun. The vision of midday warmed my blood.
    It seemed odd Alexandre should allow Désirée to play hostess. I supposed he admired her a great deal, despite her being only a sort of stepmother.
    After an hour of rest, I returned to the hall. A dining table had been set with an ivory cloth and fine dishes. I slid into an empty chair.
    “Shall we dine?” Désirée lowered her graceful form into a chair across from the Marquis. She had changed from her riding dress to a blue silk gown and twisted her hair into a perfect chignon decorated with pearls. She rang a porcelain bell, bringing a flurry of servants. One filled our wineglasses as others brought parsnip soup. Braised venison and beet salad would follow.
    Alexandre joined us at the last moment. “Pardon my tardiness.”
    Désirée gave him a reproachful look.
    He helped himself to a piece of bread and soaked the crust in his soup. After a large bite, he blotted his mouth with his napkin and turned to me. “I do hope you feel at home.”
    “I don’t feel at home quite yet.” When his expression turned grim, I amended my comment. “But I’m sure I will very soon.” Best not to be too direct, it seemed.
    His face relaxed. “Very good, then.”
    I stared as he shoveled food into his mouth. Not rude, exactly, but hurried.
    “Alexandre, the venison will not wander from your plate,” Désirée said.
    I smiled behind my goblet.
    He laid down his fork and knife. “I’m afraid I’m in