Enchantress of Paris (21 page)

“Good.”

“Look at them talk. They blame me.”

“I order you to forget it this instant. Let Mazarin salvage the situation while you and I dance until the stars fade into daylight.” He twirled me in a circle until my skirts flared out.

I looked up at the night sky and laughed. “As you wish, my king.”

*   *   *

The next morning Hortense leapt from our bed far too early and yanked open the drapes.

“Get back to bed!” I pulled a pillow over my face.

“The duc de Savoy is leaving,” she cried.

I dragged myself to the window.

There, in full dress, the duc rode his horse in circles around the Place de Belle Cœur. “Farewell, France,” he called. “I quit you without the least regret.”

Hortense pushed open the window. Cold air gusted into the chamber. The duc raised his hand to his lips and blew her a kiss. She reached, pretending to catch it. He laughed at that. Then he heeled his horse, galloping off, disappearing beyond the walls.

My sister closed the window slowly. “He asked the cardinal for my hand last night. The cardinal refused. First the King of England, now the duc de Savoy. He berates me for skipping mass, calls me pagan, and corrects everything from my posture to how I talk. Am I so bad?”

I wanted to tell her to ignore the cardinal, to be herself. But that would make me a hypocrite.

“Did you and King Louis confront him last night?”

I shrugged, uncomfortable. “The king seems to have made his point without being direct.”

“And so the cardinal's power over you and of me continues. I will never love.” She closed the drapes and got back into bed. “Mazarin has taught me to close my heart.”

I thought of how the king's affection had brightened my world. “Don't do that.” I climbed in beside her.

She turned her back to me. “It is the only way to ensure it doesn't break.”

*   *   *

Hortense stayed in bed when I rose and didn't get dressed that evening. I took my carriage to the queen's antechamber alone, where the crowd had dwindled. Most of the Savoy party was already gone.

Madame Royale sat with the queen mother in the presence chamber. Though her eyes were puffy and red, she wore a huge smile. When she saw me, she held out a velvet tray, glittering with diamond earrings and a handful of jewels in gold and black enamel. “I told your uncle such parting gifts weren't necessary, that I wouldn't dream of preventing peace with Spain.” She waited for my polite nod before she finally moved on, showing everyone her trophies on her way out, waiting for courteous praises.

Princess Margherita followed her mother, pausing at my side. “She's been crying all morning, a right royal fit. Your uncle had to offer consolation.”

“She seems well enough pleased. And you?”

She whispered, “Your uncle gave my mother more than jeweled trinkets. He gave her written promise that your king will marry me if he doesn't marry the Spanish infanta.”

Beyond my line of sight, I sensed the queen mother watching. I fought to maintain composure.

Margherita went on, “Get me out of it, if you can. I have no wish to become your uncle's subject. Nor to spend my wedded life groveling for my husband's attention.”

I gave her a questioning look.

“When the king is in your presence, his face reveals his complete adoration of you.” She moved past. “No wife could rival that.”

She and her mother curtsied before backing from the door. I turned to the dais and saw the queen mother studying me. She never wanted King Louis to marry Margherita. She would quash me now. I approached her wishing Olympia and Hortense were by my side. I curtsied.

She didn't smile.

“I am looking for my uncle.”

She sighed. “He is busy gathering gold and silver to send with Madame Royale, and he is cursing you for it. It seems you did your job a little too well.”

Does she suspect I warned Margherita?
“Please forgive Hortense's absence. She was too saddened by the departure of Savoy to join me.”

“I imagine you're glad to see them go?” Her glare shook me. She'd always shown me the natural kindness of an older woman to a younger. Now her eyes said she recognized me as a feminine rival. Civility remained, but the tone and expression were meant to cut. In this one glance, I had become a woman.

I wanted to choke her. I wanted to tell her I knew
everything
about her affair with Mazarin. I wanted to scream secrets from the rooftops of Lyon that would damn her. Instead I played her game one better. I smiled an innocent smile, curtsied deeply, and said, “Me? I'm perfectly indifferent and ever at your service.”

It stunned her. She recovered quickly, carefully arranging her expression to one of contentment.

It didn't matter if she believed my ruse. I now saw
her
for the adversary she was.

 

CHAPTER
27

The queen mother wished to show King Louis the mirror presented to Rinaldo … to draw him from the spell of Armida.

—MADAME DE MOTTEVILLE'S MEMOIRS

I suffered the queen's antechamber for hours, but King Louis never appeared. Nor did my uncle. I went to bed as melancholy as Hortense. But in the morn, Moréna opened the window to reveal King Louis on his horse in the Place de Belle Cœur.

“Feel like riding out of Lyon?” he called up with a grin.

Philippe waved from his place behind the king with three other musketeers.

Moréna dressed me in a hurry, and my equerry readied Trojan. The king and I trotted through the city, over the Saône, and past the hill to the fields beyond.

“Race you to those ruins in the distance!” I cried, and heeled Trojan to a hard gallop before the king could answer. We beat him by an arm's length. I laughed, breathless. King Louis helped me off my horse, and we collapsed in the grass below the stone arches of an ancient Roman aqueduct. He held me, and we didn't care about getting grass in our hair or what the musketeers thought. Philippe kept them at a distance, and we lolled together, kissing and caressing, settling into a comfortable embrace, alone at last.

“Which Caesar do you think had these built?” he finally asked, staring at the stone arches.

“One that declared himself the greatest of all, no doubt.”

He laughed. “One day I will be called a great king. I will expand France and make it wealthy.”

I made a
tisk
sound. “Focus on improving Paris; clean the garbage off the streets and line them with lanterns to light at night. Install fountains so your people don't have to drink dirty river water. Greatness cannot be accumulated in a coffer. It pours from here.” I pointed to his heart. “And is reflected in how you treat your weakest subjects.”

He thought on this for a long while, then changed the topic. “You were right. This escapade with Savoy was designed to force Spain into a treaty.”

“It's pointless to seal a peace treaty with a marriage alliance. Your mother was once a Spanish infanta, and she's been no instrument of peace these last decades.” I sat up. “You begged me never to leave your side. Cardinal Mazarin will try to separate us.”

“I can make him secure peace without the marriage.”

“He gave his
written word
to Madame Royale that you would marry Margherita if you don't marry the Spanish infanta.”

King Louis sat up. “He wouldn't do that without my consent.”

“Margherita told me herself.”

He waved me off. “To spite you.”

“To warn me.” I stood. “
She
sees Mazarin for what he is.”

He leapt to his feet. “Are you calling me a fool?”

“Do you want to marry me or not?”

He embraced me roughly and pressed his lips to mine in a fierce kiss. A fire rose within me, and I plunged into him. I ached to make him mine.

Instead I pushed him away. “You take my kisses, my trust, and offer nothing in return.”

He grabbed my arm, dragged me to his horse, and with one swift move threw me into the saddle. He mounted behind me and kicked his horse into a hard gallop. Philippe scrambled to grab Trojan, and the musketeers followed. King Louis didn't wait. He drove his horse straight to the hill and the cardinal's lodgings. Pages and guards rushed to greet him, but the king paid them no heed. He pulled me from his horse and marched me inside. Every sentry fell back for King Louis, who didn't wait to be announced.

In my uncle's antechamber, Colbert spotted us and dropped a stack of papers. He called out, “The cardinal is unwell!”

King Louis pushed through the doors to the cardinal's bedchamber.

My uncle sat before a fire with his feet in a basin. He started, and water sloshed. “Majesty.” He lifted one swollen foot from the basin and made to stand for a proper bow.
His bones are aching already, I see.

“No ceremony.” King Louis waved him down. “Did you promise my hand in marriage to Savoy if I do not marry Spain?”

The cardinal paused in his half-risen posture. He glanced at me, as if to say,
You call this having control of the king?

The king went on. “Don't look at Marie with blame in your eyes. What have you to say?”

My uncle fell back into his seat. “Madame Royale must have circulated that rumor to salvage the remaining shreds of Savoy's dignity. Can you blame her? After you treated Margherita so coldly?”

“Your pathetic trick at the Archbishop's Palais proved you wanted Marie to take the blame,” said King Louis.

The cardinal held up his palms. “I am only guilty of doing my utmost to protect you. And secure an alliance that will bring you peace, new lands, and riches.”

King Louis seemed surprised. “You know I want peace, but I won't marry Spain.” He cleared his throat. “I want to marry Marie.”

The cardinal didn't seem to know what to say. “Majesty, you do me too much honor.”

“It is my right to bestow honor where I choose.” King Louis smiled at me. I forgot the tension in the room for a heartbeat, reveling in that smile. He turned back to my uncle and drew himself up to his full height. “So concede whatever terms you must, but write my marriage out of it.”

My uncle cleared his throat. “I will do my best.”

I couldn't believe it.

“I won't marry Margherita either.” said King Louis.

My uncle shrugged. “I never intended it.”

The king glanced at me. It had come too easy. I shook my head.

King Louis turned back to my uncle. “Promise you'll let me marry Marie.”

My uncle pressed his chair with shaky arms until he came to a standing position, robes falling, half in the water. He bowed. “I would forfeit all I own before standing in the way of Your Majesty's happiness.”

King Louis smiled broadly and turned to me. But Mazarin hadn't promised. What could I do? With the cardinal still bowed low in his gouty footbath, I led the king out. Back through the sentries and Colbert standing agape, back out to his horse, where exasperated musketeers waited with Trojan. I dropped the king's hand and signaled Philippe to help me onto my mount.

“Say something,” said the king.

“You asked me to go riding this morning. So let us ride. This meeting changed nothing.”

“I did what you wanted. Your uncle will clear the way for us to wed.”

I settled in my saddle and looked down. “My vow to remain at your side implies I will be loyal and honest. So I will tell you a truth. If you love me as deeply as you say, then the cardinal will be the cause of your greatest heartache.”

“How can you speak of your own guardian this way?”

“Because, my love, he is a liar.”

“He is clever and cunning, but he wouldn't lie to
me.
”

I twisted Trojan's reins around my hand until I thought they would cut right through my gloves.
King Louis isn't ready for the truth.
He was a man to demand proof, and my proof was in Paris. “If I could prove he is deceitful beyond all doubt, would you denounce him?”

He kicked the gravel, startling the horses. “You're right.” He mounted and took reins in hand. “We should stick to riding.”

*   *   *

Thus, we rode. Every day. Over frosty fields or snowy meadows. King Louis came to our quarters every morning, bursting in while we were still in our undress gowns, sending Madame Venelle into fits of the vapors. He waited until I dressed, then challenged me to a race over the bridges, through the squares, or across Lyon's countryside. He riding with a heart full of faith, and me in possession of a half-victory.

King Louis ordered a collation every evening, saying, “Any excuse to keep you by my side instead of behind my mother's table.” And so we never had to endure the cardinal's patient glare at supper, and he no longer had to see the lines of worry creasing his mother's brow as she watched him watching me while they ate.

Every night we danced at the Archbishop's Palais or the Hôtel de Ville. Madame Venelle exhausted herself keeping our late hours and waking early to wait upon Hortense, ill and melancholy since Savoy's departure. Venelle began to quit our night parties early with bleary eyes.

Thus we spent them unsupervised. In the darkest hours before sunrise, when we were full on oysters and honey mead and worn out with dancing, the king followed my carriage home with an escort of Philippe's musketeers. He soon abandoned his horse and climbed into the carriage to kiss me and press against me and put his face beneath my skirts. Oh, the things I let him do to me and the things I did to him! I lost all resolve at the sensation of his fingers moving slowly inside me, moving me to the edge. I could forget everything on those slow rides back to the Place de Belle Cœur. Once, when the ride hadn't been slow enough, I saw that Venelle was fast asleep in her bed, and quietly opened my window so the king could climb inside.