“I do not like being told what to do.”
“I know.”
“I will only marry for love.”
“So you have told me several times,” he said. “Are you not the tiniest bit in love with me yet, cherie?”
“You are very overwhelming, monsigneur. You tend more to anger me than anything else,” she admitted to him.
“Aha!” he said. “You do indeed feel something for me. Anger is the opposite of passion, so I may have hope.”
“I am beginning to think you are mad,” Autumn told him.
“I am, cherie. I am madly in love with you!” he declared.
“That is ridiculous!” she snapped. “How can you be in love with someone you barely know? Why, Etienne and Guy have had more acquaintance with me than you have, monsigneur.”
“That day I first saw you in the forest, across the rocky streambed, I knew you were the girl for me,” the marquis replied. “Do you not believe in love at first sight, cherie?”
“No!” Autumn said firmly. “I most certainly do not!”
He laughed. “I see you will be the practical one in our marriage, ma petite. I suppose that is not a bad thing. I hope our children will be like you.”
“Take me home,” Autumn said, turning her horse’s head about. “No! Go home, m’sieu le marquis! Red Hugh will see me back to Belle Fleurs. I shall tell Mama I wished it that way.”
“I will come again, cherie,” he told her, not aruging with her abrupt decision.
“If it pleases you,” she responded.
“I would please you, Autumn Rose Leslie,” came the reply.
Her horse stopped in its tracks and Autumn looked directly at him. God’s blood! He was so damned handsome, but he was confusing her with his mixture of dominance and foolishness. “I will be pleased to have you call on me again, Sebastian d’Oleron, even as I will be pleased to see Etienne and Guy. In the end, however, if none of you suit me, I shall dismiss you all. Do you understand? I should rather be happy and a maiden than wed and miserable.”
He nodded, his expression serious. “I understand, cherie,” he said, but then he grinned. “When all is said and done, though, you will fall in love with me and wed me.” Placing his fingertip to his lips he blew her kiss, then rode off.
“A determined gentleman,” Red Hugh noted as they returned to the chateau. “You would appear to be well matched, m’lady.”
Autumn laughed. “He is quick of wit and considerate of me, I will agree. But he is every bit as stubborn as I am. If I wed him, would we be constantly at each other’s throats?”
“Yer parents were, occasionally, in their youth,” Red Hugh volunteered. “It made their marriage stronger. Their love became deeper as they learned the fine and delicate art of compromise, m’lady.”
“I will wager that is not a word in the marquis’s vocabulary,” Autumn told her companion.
They reached the chateau. Autumn went into the hall to tell her mother she was home again.
“Where is the marquis?” Jasmine asked.
“I sent him home when he became tiresome,” Autumn replied. “Do not worry, Mama, he will be back. Now I must go and bathe. I stink of my horse and do not wish to sleep with the scent.”
When she had departed the hall Jasmine spoke. “What do you think, Hugh? Will it be a match?”
“If the marquis has anything to say about it, aye, your grace, it will. He is quick. Flattering one minute, battling with her the next. Such treatment intrigues her. She will resist until she either tires of him or lusts after him. Who can say which it will be.”
“Do you like him?” Jasmine inquired.
“Aye! He’s a real man, like our duke, God assoil his good soul. He would not be afraid to get his hands dirty. The other two have charm, your grace, but I think them effete compared to the marquis. Her ladyship, like her sisters, needs a real man, not some pretty, clever gentleman to dance attendance on her. She would soon be bored.”
Autumn, however, did not have time to become weary of her three suitors. Suddenly the trio was at Belle Fleurs daily, at first keeping her amused with their rivalry over her hand. The Comte de Montroi made her laugh with his quick wit and clever tongue as he made mock of the others, his blue eyes dancing with mischief. Etienne St. Mihiel was the main butt of his teasing, for the duke was deadly serious in his pursuit of Autumn. He found nothing funny about the situation, which had put him into contention with two other gentlemen. Etienne was very used to obtaining his way, and the thought that he might lose this lovely heiress was very distressing to him. Then, one afternoon, the comte enraged the Duc de Belfort with his jests, and the two almost came to blows.
“You and Sebastian are too closely related to Autumn,” he mocked them.
“What do you mean?” the marquis said.
“You and de Belfort are related to her tantes,” the comte replied. “I am certain the consanguinity involved would prevent either of you from marrying Autumn. Therefore I win by default,” he chuckled.
“Impudent puppy!” snapped Etienne St. Mihiel. “She will never wed with you as long as I live!”
“Non, she will not, because she will marry me,” the marquis told them both with a grin.
“I think this is a question for Pere Bernard,” Autumn noted.
The young priest came, and the situation was explained. A small ghost of a smile flitted over his plain face. Then he said, “I do not believe the bonds of blood between Mademoiselle Autumn and the two gentlemen in question are so strong that the problem would be considered by the Church as an impediment to marriage between her and either of them. You are all worthy contenders for her hand. I shall look forward to performing the ceremony when she decides.”
“We will be married by the bishop in Tours, not some country priest,” Etienne St. Mihiel said proudly. “The bishop is my first cousin.”
Not to be outdone, the comte retorted, “I am related to Archbishop Gondi in Paris. He would gladly perform my marriage to Autumn.”
“I will be delighted to have you perform the ceremony between me and Autumn,” the marquis said softly to Pere Bernard.
“Merci, monsigneur,” the priest answered.
“How certain you all are that I will have any of you,” Autumn told them, irritated. “You are not the only eligible gentlemen in France. You are all becoming tiresome. I do not want to see you en masse again. You may call upon me individually, monsieurs, for how else can I get to know any of you, when you spend all your time with me bickering amongst yourselves over which one of you is to marry me? How often must I tell you? The decision is mine. It does not belong to any of you.
“You will come to call upon me in rotation, according to your rank. Etienne, I shall see you tomorrow. Then, the following day, the marquis, and finally the comte. Do not get your rotation confused else you aggravate me further and I dismiss you entirely. Now go home!” Turning away, Autumn departed the Great Hall, leaving her surprised suitors openmouthed. She was very hard pressed not to laugh aloud at the looks upon their faces when she scolded them. Even Sebastian.
“It is outrageous!” the duke said angrily. “I shall make my offer to her mother and we will be done with this charade.”
“You’re a fool, de Belfort,” the marquis told him. “Madame Jasmine herself has told us the decision is her daughter’s alone. You cannot offer for Autumn without Autumn’s consent. She is wealthy in her own right, and her blood is every bit as blue as ours. Bluer, if the fact be known, for she had an emperor for a grandfather. Neither our titles nor our riches impress her. She will wed for love alone, mon brave. All our wealth and rank cannot overcome that fact.”
“Then I will make her love me,” the duke said determinedly.
“Hah!” the comte responded to his friend’s remark. “Do you even know what love is, Etienne?”
“I have loved many women in my day,” was the response.
“Made love,” Guy d’Auray corrected him. “There is a difference between the two. If you
do not know it, you have already lost her.”
“Adieu, monsieurs,” the marquis said. “I shall see you at my wedding, if not before.” He bowed to his two rivals and withdrew.
Autumn watched him go from the window of her mother’s bedchamber.
“What have you done?” Jasmine asked from the bed where she was laying down, recovering from a mild headache.
“Sorted them out,” Autumn replied. “They were like a trio of puppies squabbling over a bone. Namely me! It is not flattering; it is irritating. They will now come one at a time until I make my choice or they get bored. How can I learn what they are like otherwise?” She explained to her mother what she had proposed.
“Clever, ma bébé,” Jasmine said.
“I am not certain whether my solution will prove more annoying in the long run,” Autumn admitted.
Her mother laughed. “No, you were correct to do what you did. You will get to know them quickly now and can decide which two to discard. If you have not already decided.”
“You know I have, Mama,” Autumn said. “I do not, however, want him thinking I was won too easily.” She smiled. “He is very arrogant.”
“It is part of his charm,” her mother replied.
“And I have not yet kissed Etienne or Guy,” Autumn said.
“You really should, for comparison’s sake,” Jasmine agreed.
Autumn giggled. “Did you talk to India and Fortune like this, Mama?” she wondered aloud.
Jasmine laughd briefly. “Non, ma bébé, I most certainly did not. India was so positive that she knew everything, and Fortune was so practical it didn’t seem necessary. At least until she chose Kieran. Then it was too late, for she was wildly in love.” Jasmine sat up and patted the bed for her daughter to sit by her side, and when Autumn had complied, she continued. “You were born that October, just a few weeks after Fortune and Kieran wed. My last child. A great surprise to both your father and to me, as we thought we were past that time in our lives. But you were welcome! Oh, yes, Autumn Rose Leslie, you were so welcome!
“I should never say this to your sisters or your brothers, but I think you have been my favorite child, simply because of when you were born to me. You gave Jemmie and me the opportunity to be parents a final time, for your brothers and sisters were either all grown or close to it. They did not really need us any longer, but you surely did, and we were glad of it. How could we be old, grandchildren or not, if we were still raising our youngest child?” She patted Autumn’s hand.
“What will you do when I am wed, Mama?”
“You will not be far from me, ma bébé,” Jasmine said. “I shall live quite comfortably here at Belle Fleurs. Perhaps some day I shall even go back to my dower house at Cadby for a visit, or to Glenkirk, when my heart no longer hurts so greatly. If that time ever comes.”
“I wonder if it will, Mama.”
“I still mourn them all in my heart. Jamal Khan, my first husband. Rowan Lindley. Henry Stuart. And now your father,” Jasmine replied. Then she smiled. “What a wonderful life I have had, ma bébé!”
“You make it sound as if it is over, Mama,” Autumn said, alarmed.
Her mother chuckled. “Nay, not over. It is just a new beginning, but I cannot yet see where I am going, Autumn.”
“I cannot see where I am going either,” the girl told her mother. “I am half in love with Sebastian, not that I have indicated it to him, but he does fascinate me so, Mama. But is it enough that I should wed him? You must help me in this decision, for I have so little experience.”
“If you are certain that it is Sebastian, then you must dismiss the other two, Autumn. It is not fair to keep them dangling.”
“Not yet, Mama,” Autumn said. “I shall not be cruel, but I need a bit more time. Besides, Sebastian is so very annoying in his confidence. He needs a good set-down before I decide for certain.”
It was almost March before the people in the region of the Loire and the Cher learned that a treaty had been signed on January 30 in Paris between the two frondes, making Gaston d’Orleans their single leader. The boy king’s uncle, egged on by Archbishop Gondi, and the Parlement, demanded Cardinal Mazarin’s exile. Mazarin resisted until his life was threatened; then, reluctantly, he gave in to the pleas of both Queen Anne and young Louis, leaving Paris on February 6, 1651.
Now Gaston d’Orleans claimed that the king had been kidnapped. On the night of February 9 and 10, the archbishop surrounded the Palais Royale. Confronting her brother-in-law, Queen Anne showed him the sleeping king first and then awakened her son, so he might see what was going on about him. Thereafter the king had a horror of disorder and no liking for Paris at all, or the Parisians who had crowded about his bed, reaching out to touch him with their grubby fingers, stinking of garlic.
Less than a week later the king released the princes of the blood, who had been imprisoned for the past few months. A week after that the French Parlement registered a royal decree that no foreigner, even a naturalized citizen, be able to hold the office of a royal minister. Cardinal Mazarin, from his sanctuary in Bouillon, then fled to the electorate of Cologne for his own safety; but he remained in contact with Queen Anne, who was almost a prisoner in Paris. The Parlement next began a trial against the cardinal, attempting to prove him a traitor.
Easter was celebrated on April 9. Spring had come to the Cher, and Autumn knew she would have to make a decision soon. She had still not allowed either Etienne or Guy to kiss her, although both men had tried, even pleading with her. It was, Autumn considered, as if she was afraid their kisses would prove every bit as exciting as Sebastian’s, and that was something she didn’t want to know yet. “I don’t know what to do,” she said aloud one afternoon as she walked with Guy d’Auray in the gardens of the chateau.
“Do about what?” he asked her, curious.
“Kiss me!” Autumn said suddenly.
The Comte de Montroi needed no further encouragement. Taking Autumn into his arms, he kissed her slowly and sweetly.
It was lovely, Autumn thought, but it was not exciting. Drawing away from him, she sighed deeply and bit her lower lip in distress.
“Ahhh,” he said, knowledge dawning quickly in his blue eyes. “I am not the one, am I, ma belle?”
Autumn shook her head. “No, Guy, you are not. I am sorry!”
“Do not be,” he told her. “Love is a precious and very rare commodity, Autumn. It should not be denied, nor should it be feigned. It is d’Auriville, isn’t it?”
“I think so,” she admitted.
He smiled gently at her. “We shall remain friends, oui?”
“Oui!” she said, returning the smile. “Oh, Guy, the girl who captures your heart will be a very fortunate mademoiselle.”
“Indeed she will,” he concurred with a twinkle. Then he bowed, taking her hand to kiss. “Adieu, ma belle. I shall not come for awhile, and when I come again it will be as your bon ami, eh?”
Autumn nodded and watched as he left her.
“Nicely done, ma fille,” her mother’s voice said, and Jasmine came from behind a tall hedge where she had been seated upon a marble bench. “You have made a good friend, Autumn, for as gallantly as he behaved, he will always be a little bit in love with you, and ready to come to your aid should you need him. I do not believe Etienne St. Mihiel will react as nobly. He is a young man used to getting what he wants; but you must send him away yourself.”
“He will be here tomorrow,” Autumn said. “I shall kiss him and then dismiss him as well.”
But as her mother had suspected, it was not as easy to send the Duc de Belfort away. They walked in the gardens as she had with the comte. There was no opportunity to kiss him, and suddenly Autumn knew it didn’t matter if she did or not. It was Sebastian d’Oleron, the Marquis d’Auriville, she wanted, and so she spoke.
“I have made my decision, Etienne,” she began. “I am not in love with you, nor do I believe I could ever love you. I hope you will understand and that we may remain friends, for w
e have family in common.” Looking up at him for the first time, Autumn was shocked by the fury she saw boiling up in his brown eyes.
“You dare to refuse me?” he demanded. “I have been patient with this little game you have been playing because I know you to be innocent and inexperienced. And have you dismissed your other suitors as well, or am I to be the only laughingstock, mademoiselle?” He had stopped now. His face was plainly angry.
“I told Guy yesterday, monseigneur,” Autumn said quietly.
“And d’Oleron?” His tone barely concealed his outrage.
Autumn hesitated, and the duke pounced on her indecisiveness.
“So! It is to be d’Oleron,” he said, his voice scathing.
“I did not say so,” Autumn quickly responded, her courage returning. How dare Etienne question her!
“Then you are turning him away also?” came the query.
“I did not say that either,” Autumn snapped.
“Then it is d’Oleron!” the duke insisted. “He shall not have you if I cannot!” Then Etienne St. Mihiel pulled Autumn against him, his mouth descending crushingly upon hers. Feeling Autumn’s tender young breasts pressed against his chest, his lust boiled over. He attempted to force her to the ground, where he might ravish her. It was then he was yanked most unceremoniously off his feet and spun about to face Red Hugh, who towered over the duke by several inches.
Autumn stumbled backward, just barely regaining her footing. She vigorously wiped her mouth with her sleeve, attempting to rid herself of his noxious kiss. It had been a hateful and unpleasant kiss.
“How dare you lay your hands on me, cochon,” Etienne St. Mihiel shouted furiously at Red Hugh. “I will have you arrested for this assault!”
“That would not be wise, monseigneur,” the big Scotsman said. “Then I should be forced to tell a justice that you attempted to rape my young mistress in an effort to force her into a marriage after she had refused your suit. You would be the laughingstock of the entire region. The parents of other eligible young maidens would certainly think twice before allowing you to court their daughters. I am sure that you do not want that, monseigneur. After all, you do need a wife.” Red Hugh smiled pleasantly and, reaching out, straightened the duke’s doublet, which had become rumpled in the altercation.
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