They all descended to the main floor of the chateau, where the little chapel was located. Autumn was left outside its door while her mother and the others entered. She could see Sebastian, so very elegant in his dark velvet suit and white lace, awaiting her at the altar rail. He was so handsome! Oh, if onlyPapa were here today to give her into his keeping, everything would be perfect. Then she jumped, startled, at the familiar voice by her ear.
“Will you take my arm, little sister?” Charles Frederick Stuart, the Duke of Lundy, said softly.
Autumn turned and looked up at her favorite brother. “Charlie!” she cried, and then promptly burst into tears.
Putting his arms about her, he said, “I arrived just at dawn this morning. Adali told me it was your wedding day. I decided to surprise you and Mama. For God’s sake, Autumn, stop weeping or I shall regret I came.”
“Oh, Charlie!” Autumn sobbed against his velvet doublet. “I have never been happier in my whole life to see anyone! We heard about Worcester. Mama was so worried. I told her you would have escaped. I knew you couldn’t be dead. I knew it!”
He took his linen handkerchief from his doublet and gently wiped the tears from her face. “You knew more than I did, minx. I had one hell of a time escaping England, and there is no word on the king yet—although if he had been captured, Cromwell would be boasting on it. Still, no one knows where he is.”
“Charlie!” Their mother’s voice suddenly cut into their tender reunion. “Bring your sister forward immediately before the marquis cries off! There is a feast awaiting, not to mention a trip to Chermont.”
Charlie grinned, then said to Autumn, “It’s for love, isn’t it? Remember what I told you?”
“It’s for love,” she reassured him. “You’ll like him.”
“Then I suppose I must give you away, minx,” the Duke of Lundy told his little sister, and then he led her up the aisle of the chapel.
Jasmine couldn’t help but think back to her own wedding day to James Leslie. She had married him in the chapel of her grandmother’s house, Queen’s Malvern. It had been the second time she had wed there, the first time being to Rowan Lindley. How long ago it had been. Now, her youngest child, Jemmie’s only daughter, was being wed here at Belle Fleurs, where Autumn’s great-grandparents had begun their long and happy married life. It was as if a circle was closing. She could almost sense Madame Skye here, approving.
The scented beeswax tapers in their gold candlesticks glittered. Sunlight poured through the stained-glass windows, throwing red and blue shadows on the gray stone floor. Young Pere Bernard, in his white and gold garments, said the mass most beautifully. The bride’s voice could be clearly heard as she spoke her vows. The groom stood tall, his own voice strong and sure. There was soft weeping: the two tantes, pleased with the outcome of their match-making; Jasmine, clutching her son’s arm, suddenly missing James Leslie more than she ever had; Adali, Rohana, and Toramalli, happy for Autumn and astounded to find themselves here after all the many years and their many wild adventures.
Afterwards, when they entered the chateau’s hall, Autumn introduced her brother to her husband.
“I will admit I am relieved you are her kin,” the marquis said. “When I saw my beloved Autumn clutching a strange man and weeping all over him, I thought I had lost her to another, an old love.” He shook his brother-in-law’s hand heartily.
“It was only by chance I arrived this day,” the duke said.
“How could you not tell me he was here?” Jasmine demanded of Adali. “I almost fainted dead away when I heard his voice. I thought he was dead, and that I was imagining it!”
“Now, Mama, don’t go scolding Adali. I am the one who decided to surprise you both.” He chuckled. “I thought it a good jest.”
“A jest?” his mother said anrily. “We had only gotten word of what happened at Worcester. All we knew was casualties, and the fact that the king was among the missing. Under the circumstances, I would have thought it far better to have announced yourself immediately instead of playing at boys’ games, Charlie.”
“I wasn’t aware the news had penetrated so deep into the French countryside, Mama. I do apologize for frightening you.”
“How long can you stay?” she demanded.
“My friend, Lord Carstairs, has remained behind in Paris, where we first went. Queen Henrietta Maria is beside herself with worry over her son. Carstairs will let me know when the king arrives. Then I must leave you, Mama. Cousin Charles needs all the help he can muster, especially now. I suspect he will shortly be on the Continent. He can’t remain in England, and he hated Scotland.”
“Where are my Stuart grandchildren?”
“With Patrick and his wife at Glenkirk,” Charlie said. Then, seeing the look on his mother’s face, he cried, “Oh, God! You didn’t know? Mama, I am so sorry! I would have thought Patrick had written to you by now. His wife is the daughter of the Brodie of Killiecairn. Her dowry was Brae Castle and its lands. Her mother was a Gordon. Patrick wanted those lands for Glenkirk. He is very much drawing in and wants nothing to do with society.”
“Is she enceinte?” Jasmine asked.
“Nay, although she wants bairns, she told me. She’s a wee bit rough-spoken, but I like her, Mama.”
“Let us see how long it will take your brother to inform me of this marriage,” his mother said, and then, “God’s boots! I am now the Dowager Duchess of Glenkirk! I do not know if I can forgive Patrick for that, although I did tell him to take a wife.”
“So now we are all married, Mama,” Autumn said. “You have certainly done your duty by us.”
“Haven’t I just,” her mother replied dryly, and they all laughed.
The wedding feast was served to the assembled guests. Jasmine had invited all the servants both inside the chateau and out to join them. They sat at tables below the highboard, while those assigned to bring in the feast hurried back and forth before seating themselves. Pere Bernard said the blessing. Then the Duke of Lundy raised a silver goblet and offered a toast to his youngest sibling.
“To Autumn Rose, the last of us, born to our mother when she believed she was past that time in her life. She has, I know, been a blessing and a joy to her parents. May she be one to her husband as well! And to Sebastian, her lord, who has not the faintest idea of what he has done in marrying this beautiful minx. Long life, prosperity, many healthy babies, and may every year you are together be a vintage year.”
“Salut! Salut!” cried all the guests, raising their own silver goblets and pewter cups.
“Oh, Charlie,” Autumn told her brother, “you have made this such a happy day for me. Thank God you are safe!”
Charles Frederick Stuart took his sister’s hand in his and kissed it tenderly. “Thank God,” he said in return, “that I was able to share this day with you and Sebastian. The others will be quite envious when they learn of it.”
“You will stay with Mama? You will not go away too soon?” Her look was anxious.
Seeing that look, Sebastian felt a pang of jealousy. He had only an older sister he barely knew. He did not understand the closeness between siblings who loved one another.
“Family is everything,” his mother-in-law said softly to him. “Now you are a part of us, mon brave. You will learn to love as we do each other, and so will your children.” She patted his big hand. “Even though she was the last of my babies, Sebastian, and they all much older, we have always been together one way or another. Autumn is every bit as much a part of her brothers and sisters as they, who were so close in age, are. Charlie, however, was always her favorite. Stuarts have that rare sort of charm.”
As if to prove her point, Charlie called to his mother’s two Scots retainers. “Red Hugh, Fergus! Fetch the pipes, for I know you have them. What is a Scotsman wiout his pipes?” he said in his mother tongue. Then, excusing himself, he disappeared from the hall. When he returned he was clad in his kilt and carried two swords. Setting them on the floor of the hall, he nodded to Red
Hugh and Fergus. They began to play, and Charles Frederick Stuart began to dance, moving gracefully among the crossed swords as he paid this familiar tribute to his sister.
The French in the hall watched with admiration as this tall, elegant man in his red plaid, with his dark curls and amber eyes, danced before them. They had never seen such a dance, but they recognized the passion in it. Autumn put her head against her husband’s shoulder and wept softly. It was all so beautiful, she thought, so wonderful that Charlie was with them, and yet she wished the others could be too. She sighed deeply.
Sebastian dropped a kiss upon her ebony head. “It is quite wonderful,” he said softly. “The perfect end to our wedding feast, but cherie, we must depart soon for Chermont. I would be home before dark. The river road is not easy to travel in the glooming.”
For several days Autumn’s possessions had been transferred from her mother’s house to her husband’s. A small baggage cart with the last of the bride’s belongings would follow their coach, along with Lily and the young servant Marc, who would now become the marquise’s personal courtier. Marc was intelligent, and Adali had thought it wise that Autumn have a male servant whose loyalty was to her alone. He had explained all of this to Marc before offering him the position.
“Serve the young marquise well, and first. You will not regret your loyalty to her. Madame’s two women and I have served her from birth, even enduring a six months’ voyage from our homeland to remain with her. Red Hugh and Fergus have come with her from Scotland. This family places a great price upon loyalty, Marc. We have all become quite comfortable in her service. If, God forbid, she died tomorrow, none of us would lack for anything. Remember this should anyone, even monsieur le marquis, attempt to dissuade you from your duty toward the young marquise. Can you give her that kind of loyalty?”
“I can, Monsieur Adali,” the young man said. “This offer you have made me is a blessing, for surely you have noticed I have a tendre for Mademoiselle Lily. I hope to wed her one day if madame le marquise will permit it and give us her blessing.”
“Loyalty has its rewards,” Adali replied meaningfully. “I am certain that once you are settled at Chermont and have proven your fidelity to your mistress, she would gladly give her consent. You will need it, however. Lily will not marry you without it. She is distant kin to her mistress through her uncles, my mistress’s two Scotsmen, and has been raised by Fergus and his wife, Toramalli.”
“I should never betray my mistress once I had pledged my allegiance,” Marc said earnestly.
“Then it is settled,” Adali said, satisfied, but afterwards he had spoken to Lily, explaining all to the girl’s delight, and advising her to make certain no other lass caught Marc’s eye. “I am certain you will know how to keep his devotion, my child,” he told her. “Remember that there will be another maidservant to serve your mistress at Chermont. She is called Orane and is young, pretty, and pert. I do not know yet if she is ambitious, but be warned that if she is, she will want everything that is yours, including your swain. Her aunt is the housekeeper.”
“I know how to protect myself and what is mine,” Lily replied fiercely. “I am the stranger, and so they will all be watching to see if they can fault me. However, I shall be sweet and full of questions. I will be respectful but not servile. They will like me but quickly realize that they cannot replace me with one of their own. As for Marc, he will not stray, Adali. He is a good man and loves me truly.”
Now, as he watched Autumn prepare to depart her mother’s house, Adali prayed silently that he had been correct in his judgment, that Lily and Marc would continue to love and serve his mistress’s child. He brought the pale blue velvet cloak trimmed in ermine and put it about Autumn’s shoulders. Then, standing before her, he carefully fastened the scrolled silver frogs and drew up the hood, covering her hair. No words were necessary between the two. Autumn hugged him silently, and he acknowledged her with a faint smile and a nod of his white head.
“Come and see us in a few days’ time,” the marquis said to his new family.
Autumn hugged her mother and brother in their turn. Then she was helped into their coach by her husband. “I should far rather have ridden,” she murmured to him as she settled herself. “I really don’t like coaches. They are so confining.”
He climbed in next to her, and the carriage door was firmly shut. “If,” he said as their vehicle rumbled off, “we rode to Chermont, I should not have this private time with you, cherie, to make love.”
“You want to make love in a coach?” Her face mirrored her surprise. “You cannot make love in a coach!”
“If one can make love lying before a fireplace, then why not in a coach?” he said, and his hand slipped beneath her cape to fondle her bosom. “Later,” he told her, “when you have more experience, ma petite, I shall show you that a man and a woman can indeed make love almost anywhere. For now, however, I want to kiss and cuddle you.”
“When we get home,” she said, nestling against him, “can we go right to bed, monseigneur?”
“There will,” he promised her, “be a supper placed in your salon, madame la marquise. There will be wine. The fireplaces in your apartments will burn all night long, as will my ardor for you.” He kissed her mouth slowly, tenderly. “We will make love, and I will begin to teach you passion,” he continued. “We will eat when it pleases us, and rest from our desires when it pleases us. Have you any idea how much I want you, Autumn? How very much I need you?”
She turned herself into his arms, and her hand reached out to caress the very obvious bulge in his breeches. “Oui, Sebastian, I do,” she murmured sweetly against his mouth. Her fingers slid up and down his length teasingly.
“You are the boldest virgin,” he said with a sigh.
“Does it displease you?” she asked him.
“Non, ma cherie, it does not,” he replied honestly.
“Then, mon coeur, we shall amuse ourselves all the way home, won’t we?” Autumn told him, snuggling against him.
“I will undress you myself,” he groaned through gritted teeth.
“You have expertise in maiding a lady?” she asked wickedly. “You cannot tear my wedding gown in your lust, Sebastian.”
“I shall only tear your undergarments,” he promised. “You are not wearing the caleçons, are you?”
“No,” she murmured, kissing his earlobe. “Drawers are such a bother, monseigneur, are they not?”
He drew up her skirts and slid a hand beneath them to ascertain her veracity, pleased to find truth in her words. His fingers brushed her thighs above her gartered stockings. The skin was every bit as soft as the silk covering her legs. “Madame, you are, I fear, too tempting.”
“You are too,” she concurred. “Perhaps we would be better off if we ceased this delicious devilment and looked at the river.”
“As madame la marquise wishes,” he agreed and, removing his hand from beneath her gown, he drew her skirts down.
“Madame la marquise doesn’t wish it, but she is already so hungry for your passion she will turn to cinders before we get home unless you show a wee bit of restraint,” Autumn said frankly.
“There will come a day,” he promised, “when I shall set you upon my lance within the confines of this coach, and we shall ride together to its rhythm. For now, however, we shall view the river.”
“And when we get home?” she pressed him.
“Ah, madame la marquise, when we get home is a different matter entirely,” he replied.
The countryside about them grew quieter as sunset approached and they came nearer to Chermont.
Chapter 11
Everything was as he had promised. Lafite had greeted them when they arrived.
“Welcome home, madame la marquise,” he had said. “Lily and Marc will be settled immediately.” He bowed.
“Merci,” Autumn said softly. Her husband’s hand was beneath her elbow as he gently but firmly led her up the broad staircase to their apartments.
En
tering, the marquis said to the young girl who came forward to take Autumn’s cloak, “You are dismissed, Orane. Go and greet Lily. She has your instructions for the morning.”
Her large, dark eyes startled, Orane curtsied, and exited the salon, still clutching her new mistress’s outer garment.
“Step back and let me look at you,” the marquis said to his bride. “Ah, cherie, you are so beautiful. I do not believe I told you that today. Monsieur Reynaud’s gown is exquisite.”
Autumn felt a sudden heat warm her cheeks. “Remember,” she cautioned him, “you promised not to tear it.”
“I won’t,” he replied. “Are you hungry? Supper is laid upon the sideboard, even as I said it would be.”
“No. I am not hungry . . . for food,” she told him boldly.
“Turn around,” he instructed her, and when she did he began to unlace her bodice. “Are the sleeves separate or attached?” he asked.
“Attached,” she said and, feeling the bodice undone, pulled it off and laid it aside upon a chair. Her skirts, which had been fastened to the bodice with several tabs, now sagged over her petticoats.
The marquis carefuly studied this situation and then began to unbutton each petticoat in its turn until they were all loosened. Then, suddenly, he ripped the dainty silk waistcoat in half, drawing it off her and tossing the ruins aside. “I said I would not tear your gown, ma petite,” he explained, putting his hand about her narrow waist and lifting her from the muddle of her petticoats and skirts. Stepping back, he caught his breath, for she was certainly the loveliest girl he had ever looked upon.
She was naked but for her cream-colored silk stockings, which were embroidered with delicate golden butterflies and held up by pearl-encrusted gold silk garters. Her feet were encased in narrow, cream, silk-covered shoes with slender diamond-studded stilletto heels. She had delightful small, round breasts that he knew in time would mature into magnificence. Her hips were most pleasingly rounded, her limbs slim and shapely. Her belly was flat, and beneath it a forest of tightly bunched black curls caught his attention.
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