Amour: Historical Romance (Passion and Glory Book 1)

by Samantha Kaye

  “Forgive my foolish and clumsy tongue. I’ve never been ashamed of you, Ouragon. Surely you must know that?”

  “Édouard, you know I shall support and obey you in whatever you decide, but I beg you to consider not only what is convenient, but also what is best and right for our son,” Ouragon pleaded, her eyes boring in on her husband.

  “If you consign Nicolas to the Church because you believe it the best course for him, then so be it. But if you send him to God’s house to hide him away, he will know it. He idolizes you, Édouard. But even the house of God will have no crypts deep enough, nor towers lofty enough to conceal his humiliation if he thinks you are ashamed of him. The world will see it and so will he. Of course he will do as you say, because that is the child he is, but make no mistake my dearest heart, you will wound him more by acting thus, than any slanderer’s epithet, or any maiden’s refusal, ever could.”

  The marquis listened in silence, but made no immediate response. Ouragon clung to him, desperate to know his decision. He sensed her worry, but there were many matters he had to consider, some she didn’t know of—others, he was honor bound not to reveal to her, or anyone. He glanced down at the letter the marquise had copied from Sérolène, reading the lines again—slowly digesting and weighing each word as he considered the course he would take.

  “It’s a beautiful little poem. I wish I’d been clever enough to write something so fitting for you,” he said at last.

  Ouragon squeezed him tight against her. “There was no need, my husband. Just to hear you speak my name was enough.”

  He lay her gently on her back, kissed her with all the ardent longing of a lifetime of desire. She reached between his legs and coaxed him to full length, sliding her hips up toward him. Her sex was wet and eager and they made quick fervent love like novices, the turbulence of their mutual ecstasy forming and then dissipating as quickly as a summer thunderstorm. Afterwards she held him close, wanting him to feel how much she loved and trusted him. When he had strength enough to raise his head up and look at her, he gave his judgment and his promise.

  “I shall decide not to decide. If they are meant to be, then I will not stand between them. Even a fool yields to the hurricane,” he said, quoting an old island proverb.

  Ouragon beamed then, her eyes and her heart alight with love. Her name, Ouragon, also meant hurricane. “How I adore you, my Édouard. You are the finest man I’ve ever known,” she said, meaning every word of it.

  Blaise kissed her between both breasts, nipping lightly at her nipple with his lips.

  “Stop it now, Monsieur, unless you’ve appetite for another course,” the marquise teased.

  Tempted though he was, the marquis wasn’t nineteen anymore. He was for the moment, most definitely spent.

  “You’re a taste I can never have enough of, Madame, but I do have some pressing letters I must write and much now to consider. When you have dressed, I think perhaps we should go and pay our young doves a call?”

  The marquise rang for her maids as Blaise rose from the bed and put on his banyan gown. A few minutes later, Sarah entered the room to assist with the task of dressing her mistress. The marquis lounged on a chaise near the bed, still admiring the naked figure of his wife. Sarah grinned. A house with much lovemaking was a happy house. The marquis stood and strode over to the bed. He stroked the soft mound of his wife’s naked buttocks in farewell.

  “Go on to your work, Monsieur. We’ll leave our desserts for later. I’ll come and get you as soon as I’m ready. My guess is we shall find our young doves in the music room. If not there, then playing cards in the salle de jeux,” the marquise said, shooing her husband off.

  An hour later, after she was dressed, the marquise came to fetch the marquis as promised and together they went in search of Nicolas and Sérolène. The marquise’s intuition on their whereabouts proved correct, as the happy sounds emanating from the amusement room confirmed upon their approach. She paused just outside the doorway, looking in on Julienne, Francis, and Sérolène who were all seated around the card table with Nicolas, engaged in animated play. Sérolène clapped her hands with joy, elated at having won the last hand. Madame de Blaise entered the room first, clearing her throat to announce her presence.

  Sérolène stood as soon as she saw the marquise. The weeks spent at the Blaise estate aiding Nicolas in his convalescence had been a magical time. With Julienne as company and chaperone, the vicomtesse had grown openly closer to the marquise and furtively closer to Nicolas. Sérolène gave the marquise a tender embrace, glowing as the marquise kissed both her cheeks, a greeting the vicomtesse had come to expect from the lady she considered more as a mother than a casual acquaintance. The marquis however, still frightened her a little, or at least his grand reputation did.

  Sérolène turned to render a proper curtsey to Monsieur de Blaise as he came to join the marquise. Julienne also stood and curtsied to her future father-in-law. The marquis returned both courtesies with a graceful bow of his own as Madame de Blaise wrapped an arm around Sérolène and Julienne, as though to put them both at ease.

  The marquise nodded in the direction of Nicolas. “I see you’ve beaten him again, dear child.”

  “Yes, Madame. He’s still quite hopeless I’m afraid, though I’ve done my best to teach him,” Sérolène said, grinning playfully at Nicolas.

  “His play at cards might still require improvement, but his health has progressed in a remarkable manner since your arrival, Mademoiselle. Of course I expect anyone’s condition would improve when surveilled by such charming nurses,” the marquis said.

  All the ladies curtsied to acknowledge the compliment. Satisfied that his words had put everyone at ease, the marquis turned to address Nicolas directly.

  “What’s the latest prognosis on your recovery, Monsieur?”

  “I’m feeling fine, Papa. There’s no need for concern. If only I could be allowed to ride.”

  “Nicolas, you mustn’t take such a risk so soon!” Sérolène protested.

  Madame de Blaise nodded her head firmly, seconding the vicomtesse’s opinion.

  “Our dear angel is right. Not another word about your horses, young man. I spoke with the doctors just yesterday and they insist you maintain the strict regimen they have prescribed. It will be several more weeks before you are fully able to resume your riding and other activities. Until then, you may take your exercise by walking and otherwise exerting yourself, provided you do not overreach.”

  The marquise’s tone was compassionate but firm. Nicolas lowered his head in resignation.

  “Yes, Maman. But as I said. I’m feeling just fine.”

  “You may feel fine, Nicolas, but it does not mean you have completely recovered. I’d say you’ve been very fortunate to escape from such an ordeal, and you still need to treat yourself with care. Those of us who love you must see to it you are looked after with proper safeguards, if you will not do so yourself,” Madame de Blaise insisted.

  Francis grinned at Nicolas. “Give it up, Nico. Can’t you see you’re outgunned and surrounded? At least your conquerors are as fair as they are stern.”

  “You mistake our intent, Monsieur de Marbéville. We seek only the chevalier’s well-being, not his defeat. I gave my promise I would look after him with the same diligence as he displayed on my behalf,” Sérolène declared, coloring as she recalled the particular circumstances of when she’d made her oath. “And I mean to fulfill my promise.”

  The marquise beamed at Sérolène with approval. “Bravo, my child. Well spoken.”

  Nicolas rolled his eyes in submission. “Very well, since the most particular and intimate details of my health have been revealed for the consideration of all present, and it seems I am also to be forbidden the pleasure of riding, would anyone fancy a walk?”

  Nicolas surveyed the room for a response as he used the edge of the card table to help lever himself upright. He noted how attentively his mother watched him, as did Sérolène.

  “As it’s obvio
us I’m completely overmatched at cards, perhaps I might fare better in other, less demanding pursuits,” Nicolas suggested.

  Francis nodded his eagerness for a diversion. He turned to Julienne to solicit her approval as well. “Shall we stretch our legs, Mademoiselle? I could benefit from a pleasant walkabout.”

  “Of course, if it should please you, my dear,” Julienne agreed.

  The marquis discretely patted the marquise on the bottom as he offered her his arm. “Enjoy yourselves, then. We shall leave you to your endeavors. Perhaps Madame de Blaise and I shall take some exercise of our own.”

  The marquis and marquise took their leave, returning to the privacy of their quarters where a variety of intimate sweets waited to be conjured amongst freshly changed satin sheets. The remaining foursome decided to walk to a pleasant overlook which provided a panorama of the surrounding countryside, as well as the amusement of a swing at the top from which to enjoy the view. Francis led the way with Julienne. Nicolas and Sérolène followed behind them. The walk was long and taxing in the moist heat of the rainy season.

  Julienne leaned upon Francis for support as she began to tire. “How much farther have we to go?”

  Francis pointed the way forward with encouragement. “We’re almost there. The view is worth the remainder of the climb if you can persevere, my dear.”

  Julienne seemed determined to take complete advantage of the close and unsupervised proximity to Francis afforded by her engagement. “Then I shall do my best to endure.”

  “That’s the spirit, my beloved!” The comte leaned in to reward his fiancée with a chaste kiss. Both Nicolas and Sérolène grinned their approval at the open display of affection. Julienne entwined her arm with the comte’s.

  “It’s been a bit of a blessing, don’t you think, Francis?”

  “What has, my dear?”

  “Our time together. Of course I don’t mean to say I’m glad for your brother’s injuries, but I am pleased my father has allowed my cousine and me to remain here for such an extended visit while the chevalier recuperates.”

  Francis glanced over his shoulder. Sérolène was chatting away with Nicolas as they followed along behind, both her arms entwined around his brother’s thick forearm in a manner which suggested a much greater degree of intimacy than either had yet openly revealed. Francis however, was already aware of Nicolas’ true feelings and to anyone with impartial eyes, there was no need to guess at those of the vicomtesse. It was plain to see she adored Nicolas and was herself adored in turn. He wondered why Julienne couldn’t see the obvious.

  Francis tilted his head toward the trailing pair of climbers. “It has been quite nice, hasn’t it, and I wager not just for us.”

  Julienne narrowed her eyes. She gave Francis an awkward, confused smile.

  “Why whatever do you mean? Their friendship is no more than the innocence of youthful familiarity. Though my cousine may feel a sense of gratitude, and perhaps even obligation for what Nicolas did for her, she’s still just a child. I’m certain of the innocence of her feelings. The affection she displays toward your brother is merely familial in nature.”

  Francis raised his eyebrows, surprised at Julienne’s response. Was she so blind she could not see they were besotted with each other? There was much he could say to point out the error of her presumptions but he didn’t wish to reveal the matter of the note he’d delivered from the vicomtesse to Nicolas, nor did he desire to contradict Julienne’s opinions and spoil the gaiety of the general mood. He responded therefore, with silence, which only made the moment more awkward for them both. They walked on for several paces, Julienne casting several inquiring glances at Francis, each look begging to know more of what he really thought.

  “May I presume from your lack of reply, that you do not share my opinion?” Julienne at last inquired.

  “There is no need to presume, my dear. I am happy to tell you plainly that I do not.”

  Julienne spent some time considering what to say. She didn’t want to cause a row with her betrothed, so it was important her response be properly reasoned and measured. But of course he was wrong. No one new Sérolène better than she, and she was sure there was nothing of real substance between her cousine and the chevalier. Sérolène would have told her first if there was. Of that she was certain.

  “I’ve known Lena since we were both small children. She’s my dearest friend in the world. As close as a sister to me. If she had the type of feelings you suppose…about anyone, I’m sure she would have confided in me. Forgive me Francis, but I believe you are wrong to suppose anything more than friendship exists between Lena and Nicolas. Though that friendship might be very dear,” Julienne said.

  Francis understood. She hasn’t been let in on the secret as I have. Nicolas confided in me, as did the vicomtesse in a way, by asking me to be her go-between, but she’s said nothing to Julienne of her true feelings. But why? Perhaps she fears her family’s disapproval? Of course, what else could it be? They fell in love before the Cap. When my brother’s star hadn’t yet ascended into the heavens.

  “But what if there were more to their friendship than you suppose? How then would you feel, and what advice would you provide to your cousine?”

  If his supposition was correct and the Salvagnacs disapproved of Nicolas, could Julienne be trusted to act as a bridge between the families? She must be made to understand. Nicolas and I are true brothers, despite our different mothers. She must have us both, or neither at all.

  “Forgive me, dear Francis. I do not wish to appear as if I am opposed to such considerations, nor do I wish you to believe I do not value the friendship of your brother, or what he has done for our house…”

  It was a timorous and vacillating beginning and Francis seized it at once by the throat. “No need for long speeches, Mademoiselle, we are not at court. You may proceed at once to the crux of your objections.”

  Julienne was startled by the brusqueness of Francis’ response. She briefly lost her train of thought then recollected it again much farther down the line than she had intended.

  “But, my very dear friend and soon-to-be husband, surely you must be aware of the many evident obstacles to the further progression of their friendship, should such a circumstance even be necessary for consideration.”

  “And what might those objections be, Mademoiselle de Salvagnac?” Francis sniffed.

  In his increasing irritation, Francis had added the emphasis in his speech to stress the parvenu nature of the appellation her family carried so proudly. De Salvagnac was nothing in comparison to the age and greatness of the name he and his brother both shared.

  Julienne, already flustered by his manner, had entirely missed the point of his response. Her retort was already primed and pointed toward its target. She fired it off without pause. “Why those of rank, class, position...” Julienne stopped mid-sentence when Francis winced. At once she regretted her words, but it was too late now to recall them.

  “Is my brother not a vicomte of France, a gentleman, and a chevalier? Does he not bear, as I do, the noble name of Montferraud? The income from his estates amounts to more than two hundred and fifty thousand livres per year. I would have presumed these advantages sufficient for any lady of real quality.”

  Francis’ voice was rising with his temper. Julienne understood that she had spoken rashly. She wanted to make amends, and soothe the comte’s feelings. It wouldn’t do to allow the disagreement to build into a quarrel.

  “Of course, Francis, what you say is all true, but—”

  “But what, Mademoiselle, but what?” He was almost shouting now. They had stopped in the middle of the trail and Julienne looked down at her feet with contrition.

  “Please, Francis!” Julienne whispered, her quivering voice and upper lip betraying the extent of her distress.

  Francis turned away a moment to recover himself. He then turned back to address his cowering bride to be, a tight sardonic smile frozen on his lips. “Forgive me, my dear. I shall press you n
o more upon this subject. I believe I understand you perfectly.”

  The party had reached the top of the overlook, but everyone was too distracted by the spat taking place to take note of the view, which was supposed to have been the purpose of the trek. While Nicolas pointed out items of interest to Sérolène, Francis sulked, and Julienne cowered at his side. The panorama of the estate and its surroundings, nestled below them in a lush green valley which was planted with sugar cane as far as the eye could see, was breathtaking. Neither Nicolas nor Sérolène could enjoy it for the other couple’s argument, and neither was quite sure what to do about it. Francis in the end, made the decision for everyone.

  “Mademoiselle de La Bouhaire, would you care to take a turn with me? There’s a swing attached to the Jacaranda tree over there which provides the absolute best vantage point for viewing. On a day like today you can even see as far as the Cap.”

  Sérolène was reluctant to be separated from Nicolas but accepted the comte’s offer because it seemed the proper thing to do to relieve her cousine’s distress. Nicolas was thus left in very awkward company with Julienne, who stood off by herself, several paces away from everyone else.

  Nicolas considered what to say to draw Julienne out. He didn’t fancy himself an easy conversationalist. Ready pleasantries and small talk were the realm of his elder brother. Nicolas liked to talk history and matters of substance. He sensed this preference was why most ladies found his conversation dull. And likewise, he found theirs the same. Except for Sérolène. He had no difficulty in discussing anything with her, on almost any subject matter. True, he had broader knowledge of history and natural science, but she knew more of literature, poetry and the arts. Though others soon grew disinterested in their wandering academic discussions, Nicolas and Sérolène, as principals, never lost enthusiasm, or tired of beginning their intellectual explorations anew. The vicomtesse had made very good use of her uncle’s library, and for more than just avoiding unwanted guests, of this Nicolas was sure.