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Bright and early, almost - one might say - offensively early, Lucas raps on his mother's door and then pushes it open to walk into her sitting room - although he does not, as yet, venture into the bedroom beyond.
Instead he calls out, "Good morning, Maman!" in a tone that is certifiably cheery, considering the earliness of the hour.
"I have brought you your chocolat," he continues, setting down a tray contained the silver pot of hot chocolate (not the sweet modern adulterated variety, but the good strong eighteenth century ancien regime stuff) and then dropping into an armchair, resting his long legs on a soft leather pouffe (just the right size for attractive young men to sit upon in order to gaze up adoringly at Flora).
He pours himself some chocolat into one of the thick white porcelain cups and sips.
"You have received a missive from his Majesty, I trust?" he continues.
Lucas has clearly abandoned his existentialist phrase - at least for the morning. He is wearing pale cream Oxford bags and a white shirt, with a white cricket sweater over the top (Yorkshire). He's clearly not expecting a game, however; not only would the bags be a little awkward in the field, but the pale biege loafters he is resting on the pouffe are similarly impractical. Rather nice for swanning around the Castle in, though.
There is a ruffle of sheets, and some noises of an armoire opening, and then Lucas' mother comes into the living area, drawing her thick white robe over her lovely bare skin. She is certainly nude beneath it. Two of her hounds trot into the room behind her.
Lucas can see behind her into the bedroom. The bed is disarranged, but no young lover rests there now. Either he leapt out the window or into the armoire, or perhaps under the bed. Either that or he is allergic to her dogs, and did not stay the night.
Lucas wouldn't dream of intruding on Maman's privacy like that. Really. Well ...
"Good morning, mon petit cher," she greets Lucas. "You are so thoughtful, bringing your mother a morning treat to make up for the trick her brother has played on her."
"Mais oui, Maman," he responds, producing two small treats for the dogs from his jacket, and offering them one each. "Although I would advise acquiring a few more garments if you want to avoid pleasantries that border on ribaldry."
He sits back in the armchair and smiles at her languidly.
"I see you are struggling to suppress your delight at the King's return. Behold me all eagerness to escort you into his presence."
"Of course. In a moment, I shall certainly go and dress. But first, let me enjoy this fine chocolat and catch up on the latest news. How is dear Solace?" Flora asks. She pours her own cup of the aforementioned beverage and seats herself daintily in another armchair.
"Much recovered," says Lucas. Then he sighs. "Although I fear she may not be strong enough to cope with the excitement of that delightful family dinner we had planned with you and Lady Vesper. It will be hard for us both to forgo that treat but, at the moment, I could not in conscience permit ma pauvre Solace to exert herself."
His expression, as he sips his chocolat, is one of pensive disappointment.
"How unfortunate," Flora says. "I shall have to visit her and bring her some little delicacy from the kitchen in hopes of restoring her health."
"She will be ecstatic," says Lucas.
She takes a sip from her own cup, then says, "But I am afraid I should not have been able to have a grand dinner after all myself. I had a Trump from my brother Corwin last night. It seems that he is beginning to hold court in Paris, and he needs an official hostess. He has asked me to take the position, and I have agreed."
Flora's lovely red lips curve into a smile. "I should love to have an intimate family affair with Solace's dear maman before then, but I leave within the week, and I shall spend most of it preparing. I shall have to tell Random at breakfast." She leaves unspoken the relish she feels at the prospect, but Lucas can see it in her eyes.
Lucas' dark eyebrows lift. "My felicitations, Maman," he says calmly. "A chance to grace a new Paris as beautifully as you did the old.
"However, if you are to embark for Paris, rather than being clapped in irons by Random, I suggest we make all haste now to this ... erm ... breakfast meeting he has called."
"I knew you would be happy for me," Flora says, and rises.
"Ecstatic, Maman," replies Lucas promptly. His dark eyes meet hers, and there is a slight smile on his lips. "And not a little impressed."
She drops a kiss on Lucas' dark head, then retreats to her dressing room to change. On her way out, she says, "Perhaps the Paris air would be invigorating for poor Solace. I should love to have you visit, with the children, of course."
"And we would be more than happy to visit," he replies. "After all, the children should have some knowledge of at least a simulacrum of their non-Amberite heritage. And Solace too will enjoy it, I am sure."
A few minutes later, she has donned a lovely pale green dress, and she and Lucas go down into the garden for breakfast.
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XX: Encounter in the Library | Index | Breakfast with the King
