Because of her petite stature, Queen Pirouette was able to stand erect in the cramped space of the carriage. Approaching the peculiar intruder, she brandished the piece of ribbon under his nose. “Where in God’s name did you find this piece of ribbon?” She demanded, her voice tinged with anger.
“It’s just as I told your Lady, Your Majesty,” replied the man softly. “I bought it from Egon the Tailor about a year ago..”
Pirouette’s stomach did a flip-flop. Without hesitation she felt that she could recognize the man’s voice, but she dare not voice her apprehensions. Kissing the hem of her dress, the man looked up at her and winked.
Lady Eleanor was the first to voice the ladies’ collective suspicions. “Monsieur le comte?” She queried. “Are you le comte des deux chats? Monsieur GarGar?”
Pirouette covered her face with both hands and began to sway. If not for Lady Abigail taking an elbow in hand, the Queen might very well have fallen over.
“Given Monsieur’s penchant for fashionable clothes, it’s hard to believe that he’d be caught dead in the rags you are wearing,” remarked Lady Eleanor.
“As the arbiter of culture in your Court, Your Majesty, I simply can’t conceive of someone like this appearing in front of you and claim to be Monsieur le comte.”