Intrigued (17 page)

Read Intrigued Online

Authors: Bertrice Small

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

BOOK: Intrigued
12.49Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“I wish we could be like this forever,” Autumn told her mother. “ ’Tis so safe, and we have no cares at all for the moment.”
“You are nineteen and it is past time you grew up,” Jasmine said. “Your father and I overprotected you, for you were our baby.”
“I was never unhappy over it,” Autumn replied with a smile.
“Nay, you were not,” her mother agreed. “Now tell me why this sudden reluctance to grow up, Autumn.? Is it Sebastian? Are you having second thoughts? You know the choice is yours. If you conclude he is not the man for you, I will support your decision.”
“Becoming a wife is an important step,” Autumn said slowly.
Jasmine stroked her daughter’s mahogany-colored hair with a gentle hand as the girl sat by her knee, looking up at her mother. “Do not think so hard on being a wife. Think of falling totally in love with the marquis, of what it will be like to be his lover. These things come first, Autumn. Only afterwards, when you have decided that you cannot be without him, that you want to spend your life with him and have his children, only then do you think of being a wife.”
“But what exactly is
that
kind of love, Mama? How will I know it when I find it? I feel so foolish having to ask you such a question. I saw the love that existed between you and Papa. Yet I am not quite certain of just what it is, or what it feels like.” She sighed deeply. “What if I think Sebastian is the man for me and afterwards discover that he isn’t? I shall be trapped, Mama!”
“I cannot really explain what true love is, Autumn. All I can tell you is that you will know it when you find it. I did. Your sisters did, and you will too. Are you afraid of the marquis?”
“Nay,” Autumn replied. “I actually like him, but he does infuriate me with his arrogance!”
Jasmine laughed. “He is in love with you and fears losing you,” she explained. “So he puts on a masque of masculine superiority, which I will agree can be most infuriating. All men do it. Even your father. Why do you think I ran away from him when the king ordered our marriage? He was so overbearing and dismissive of my wishes. He was James Leslie, the Earl of Glenkirk. He was doing his duty as the king’s loyal servant. I was outraged! Did he love me? Or was he merely marrying me because the king had ordered it? Did he want me? Or was his desire to have the guardianship of my not-so-royal Stuart greater than his desire for me? He never said. All he said was that I was to choose the day and he would be there. It was hardly flattering.”
Autumn giggled. “What was the scandal you caused that is always alluded to but never spoken of by the family?” she asked. “The one that involved both you and Papa.”
“I am aware of what you mean,” Jasmine said, and then she laughed softly. “I suppose you are old enough to know. Shortly after I came to England from India, and was living with my de Marisco grandparents, Uncle Robin gave his famed Twelfth Night revel. Your father, who was his friend, was staying at Lynwood House. My stepsister, Sybilla, had decided she wanted to be the next Countess of Glenkirk, but Jemmie could not see Sibby for the trees. That night he and I, who were both widowed, decided we were in need of a little comforting. We were discovered together in his bed. When he did not immediately offer marriage, my stepfather demanded it. Before Jemmie might answer, I said I would not wed him. That was the end of the matter for me. My grandparents immediately arranged my marriage with Rowan Lindley. I, unaware that Jemmie had fallen in love with me, was quite happily wed. Consequently, when the king ordered our marriage several years later, after Rowan had been killed, I did not know how Jemmie Leslie felt. But I wanted to be loved because I had been loved by three wonderful men, and I knew that marriage without love would be bleak in comparison with my former liaisons.”
“So you came to love Papa?” Autumn asked.
“I think I had loved him all along, since that impetuous intrigue,” Jasmine responded. “I had put those feelings aside, for I had decided that they would go nowhere. How wrong I was!”
“But that still doesn’t answer my questions about love,” Autumn told her mother.
“No one can answer those questions,
ma fille.
All I can tell you is that you will know love when you find it. There are no other assurances, Autumn. You must believe that, and trust me in this.” Jasmine patted her daughter’s shoulder comfortingly. “Now, my darling girl, go upstairs, and get some sleep. I will wager that the marquis will be here quite early to ride with you. Now that he has the entire field to himself, he will want to sweep you off your feet and into his bed as quickly as he can.”
Autumn rose to her feet and leaned over to kiss her mother. “Good night, Mama,” she said, and departed the hall for her bedchamber. While Lily was able to pull out her trundle and fall into a quick, deep sleep, Autumn lay awake. What was love, she had asked her mother, hoping for a clear and definitive answer, yet Jasmine had been unable to give her that answer. Was it that sensation she had felt when her eyes had first met those of Sebastian d’Oleron’s, across a forest brook? She had told her mother she wasn’t afraid of him, but she was afraid of the confused, unfamiliar feelings he aroused in her.
Autumn climbed from her bed and slipped across the room to her window. The moon glistened silver upon the dark surface of the lake. She didn’t understand the feelings that roiled within her. Perhaps that was why, she suddenly realized with great clarity, she had held him off, while half-encouraging the Duc de Belmont and the Comte de Montroi. She had been like a child offered a selection of sweets who, finally choosing one, was now uncertain if she really wanted it at all.
Why is this so difficult for me?
she wondered.
India knew when she met her true love. Fortune, if the stories are to be believed, certainly knew. But that was before I was even born. What is the matter with me? Mayhap Sebastian is not the one, but oh! he is so handsome, and how he makes my heart beat faster when we meet.
She chuckled softly to herself. He had been jealous, seeing the boy king trying to make love to her. And knowing that, Autumn suddenly felt a great sense of satisfaction. Padding back across the floor, she climbed into her bed again and fell into a deep sleep.
In the morning she was very particular about her toilette. Her green light wool breeches were brushed thoroughly, Lily complaining that they would shine if she had to add another stroke to the fabric. Autumn pulled them on over her silk drawers. Beneath her white silk shirt with its full sleeves she wore a white flannel waist-cote, its
v-
ed neck threaded closed by means of a pale blue silk ribbon. Light wool socks, the same color as her knee breeches, were put on beneath Autumn’s brown leather riding boots. Seated, she allowed Lily to undo her plait, brush her hair out, and rebraid it. Taking her doeskin jerkin up she fastened the silver and bone buttons and took her riding gloves from the serving woman.
The door to her bedchamber opened and her mother was there. “He is not here yet, and we must go to early mass, Autumn,” she said. “Father Bernard will be unhappy if you shirk your duty to God.”
Autumn did not argue, and afterwards they went into the hall, where the first meal of the day had been laid out. He was there, awaiting them. Her heart began to hammer erratically.
“You will join us, Sebastian?” Jasmine said, seeing her daughter was unable to exhibit any show of manners.
“I thought you would have already eaten by now,” he said.
“Mass first, and then the meal,” Jasmine chided him gently. “Autumn must eat. I know my daughter, and she will keep you out riding for a good part of the day. Adali will see you have bread, wine, and cheese to take with you. Sit down! Sit down!”
“Bonjour, ma petite,”
he said softly, raising her hand to his lips. “You slept well after your adventures at Chenonceaux?”
“It was just a little adventure, monseigneur,” she replied, retrieving her hand from his and seating herself.
“It might have become a bigger adventure but for me,” he said.
“Ah, yes,” she responded. “You rescued me from the clutches of an overamorous twelve-and-a-half-year-old boy.” Autumn helped herself to a hard-boiled egg and began to peel it.
“A king,” he corrected her, “who, if the rumor is accurate, has already fathered a bastard on one of his whores.”
“Even the king would not resort to rape, monseigneur,” Autumn said through gritted teeth. “It was a kiss, a brief touch. I was fully capable of managing the situation. I wonder if his majesty bothered to ask his mother why she was searching for him?” She smiled sweetly and dipped her egg in the salt.
“Nonetheless,” Jasmine interjected, “I am pleased that Sebastian followed you and was there should you have needed his assistance.” She lifted the filigreed silver dish before her and said, “Will you have an egg, monseigneur? And do try some of that most excellent Dijon mustard. Wine? Or perhaps you would like to try some tea, a lovely hot beverage from my own native land. The family trading company imports it from India. It is becoming most popular, and is much nicer than the Spanish chocolate or Turkish coffee.”
“Madame is most gracious,” the marquis said. “Perhaps I should court you instead of your daughter.”
Jasmine laughed heartily. “You flatter me, but I should advise you that I am not in the market for a husband, Sebastian. A son-in-law, but definitely not a husband!”
Autumn listened to their patter and found herself growing increasingly irritated. She swallowed down her egg and a piece of bread smeared with butter. She drank her tea in dark silence, and when she had finished she said as she stood, “I am ready to ride, monseigneur.” Then she stamped down from the highboard, and from the hall.
The marquis leapt up, bowing to Jasmine and then following her. The duchess laughed, and then she signaled Adali. “Tell Red Hugh he need not accompany Autumn today,” she said. “Hurry!”
Adali bowed and ran from the hall on slippered feet. He was surprisingly agile for an elderly gentleman.
In the courtyard Autumn mounted her horse, gathering the reins into her gloved hands, Urging her mount forward by means of a gentle kick, she trotted from the courtyard across the arched stone bridge.
Behind her the marquis looked about for Red Hugh, but the big Scot was nowhere to be seen. Then Adali came up to him, puffing slightly, and said, “We are entrusting you with the young mistress, monseignuer. Do not abuse that trust.” The marquis nodded, his handsome face serious, and mounted his own horse to ride off after Autumn.
She had followed the woodland trail, and by the time he caught up with her she was leading her horse across the stream where they had first met. Safe on the other side, she turned around and smiled triumphantly at him. Then, remounting the beast, she continued on through the trees until she came to a sunny, open meadow. Autumn cantered across it. Almost to the other side, she heard his horse coming up quickly behind her.
Stopping, she waited for him, and when he finally reached her side she said, “It took you long enough, Sebastian. Where is Red Hugh?”
“I was told his presence was not required today. You have been put in my complete charge,” he told her with a grin.
Autumn laughed aloud, her bad mood now gone, ridden off in the glorious spring day. “You are a brave man,” she told him. “These are your lands? I remember you told me the day we met that the lands across the stream belonged to the Marquis d’Auriville. How can that be if your home lies south of Archambault?”
“My chateau and my vineyards lie south, but my holdings stretch behind and beyond Archambault. Even their lands belonged to my family in ancient times. They gave the land that is now Archambault to a second son. The de Saville and the d’Oleron families have a common ancestor, one Lucien Gaullus Sabinus. The legend goes that he was a tribal chief who sided with the Romans. He was given citizenship and a Roman name for his loyalty. The lands that had been his were divided in the eighth century, when the family had only two children, both sons, and the younger had the opportunity of a rather excellent marriage, provided he could offer his bride something substantial. I have several hundred yards more of river frontage, my estate having descended from the older son.”
“Sabinus. Sebastian!” she said. “Your name is your ancestor’s.”
“You know Latin?” he asked her.
“I am an educated woman, Sebastian. I speak my native English, French, and Italian. I have studied both Latin and Greek. I read. I write. I can do simple mathematics. I have been taught geography, logic, and a great deal of history, including that of my mother’s India. I was born in Ireland. Baptized both a Catholic and a Protestant. That is a complicated story in itself. I have been raised to be very liberal in my thoughts, both sacred and secular. I am studying with Father Bernard, but I strive not to upset him. His mind is narrow, as are most priests’.”
He laughed at her candor. “You will not be a perfect French wife, I can see that even now,” he told her, “but I will have no other girl for my mate, Autumn. You do not frighten me at all with your frankness.”
“I am the youngest in my family,” she continued, “born to my parents when they both believed themselves past having children. That is why I was born in Ireland. Mama did not realize she was with child, and thought her barren years had set in at last. When she finally realized her moon link was broken not for good, but because she was with child, they were across the sea from Glenkirk. I have five older brothers. Two are dukes, one a marquis, and the two youngest, barons. I have two elder sisters. India, the oldest, is the Countess of Oxton. The next, Fortune, whom I do not remember, lives in the New World, with her husband. Fortune might have had a great estate in Ulster; she fell in love with the wrong brother, but the right man,” Autumn explained.

Other books

Desirable by Frank Cottrell Boyce
That Fatal Kiss by Lobo, Mina
Somewhere in His Arms by Katia Nikolayevna
The Trust by Tom Dolby
Death in Rome by Wolfgang Koeppen
Borderline by Liza Marklund
Driven by Dean Murray