Saving The Marquise's Granddaughter Read online

  Etienne hadn’t even acknowledged that they were together.

  One, a tall blond man, dragged his gaze up and down her figure as if assessing whether more was there than he could see. Swiping two flutes of champagne from a passing tray, he called out, “Merci.” His Scottish burr mangled his pronunciation and she almost giggled.

  She was tired of being considered inconsequential.

  Etienne had always remained attentive until recently, when his self-preoccupation increased. Perhaps he didn’t like his friends’ gawking, for he practically dragged her away from them.

  She scurried to keep up.

  He stood with her for a moment, aloof.

  She sensed her brother’s gaze and searched him out, finally alighting upon Jeanne, surrounded by a bevy of admirers, their hair powdered to perfection. Their heavy perfumes alone cost a fortune.

  Etienne frowned and narrowed his eyes. “Your friend is indiscreet.” His tone suggested disgust tempered by another emotion.

  She blinked back the tears that threatened. So few friends remained at court. “My brother said he would talk with her this evening.” She waved her fan before her face, grateful for the cool air it stirred.

  “Your brother?” He pointed at Jeanne, who was kissing Etienne’s older brother, Pierre, full on the mouth, his lace jabot dipping into her bodice.

  Suzanne’s body tensed as Pierre rose, cocked his head at her, and gave a lascivious wink.

  The memory of Pierre’s touch, once locked away, sprang forth. Suzanne shuddered. “What is he doing here? You said he’d be occupied the entire evening.”

  Etienne shrugged, but his narrowed eyes darted around the room. “Probably here on business. Or to ruin my good time.”

  Stomach in spasms, she turned away from the twosome. “I know I should try to get along with Pierre.” And to find a way to ignore the way he looks at me.

  “Just stay away from him.” The irritation in his voice surprised her.

  She swallowed. The noise of the partygoers seemed a cacophony in her ears. The desire to go home overwhelmed her. Turning, Suzanne caught Jeanne’s triumphant smile at Etienne. What had Etienne confronted her friend about? Clearly, Jeanne thought she won some point with him.

  Etienne rubbed his top lip with his thumb, a habit he had when he felt guilty.

  She shivered. This evening wasn’t going at all as she had planned. Overhead, the painted figures on the ceiling mocked her. You’ll never get him to marry you, they taunted. She wanted to shut out all the overwhelming scents of the perfumes, the sight of so much exposed flesh, and the vulgar speech she overheard in passing.

  “Let’s get a drink.” Edging them over to the large engraved bowl, her escort snatched two full silver cups.

  Suzanne filled a plate for them with orange slices and cheese.

  Etienne handed her a drink and plopped a strawberry into his mouth. “I’m hungry.”

  The vile scent of the punch suggested someone had poured spirits into it, but she desperately needed to quell the lump in her throat. She took one tentative sip. The liquid burned all the way down, and her eyes flew open wide.

  Etienne raised an eyebrow.

  “My apologies. I forget you don’t partake.” He patted her on her back.

  Hurriedly, she consumed a few of Etienne’s berries, hoping they would take away the foul sting. She swallowed the overripe fruit, disappointed in the strawberries’ deceptive appearance.

  Etienne squeezed her hand and led her around the edge of the ballroom, avoiding the mirrored wall. He swept her out onto the dance floor.

  Suzanne refrained from gaping at the rows of diamonds gracing the long necks of several other women.

  When the dance ended, Etienne leaned in. “How many vaults do you suppose were opened so that treasured gems might be displayed this evening?” His wistful tone reminded her that his mother’s jewels might be passing by them, worn by whoever had purchased the collection.

  She wanted to say she was sorry his father had almost ruined his family financially.

  Etienne would have to ply a trade. He still had position, maintained his title, and had many friends at court, but the Marquis de LeFort needed his sons to be successful businessmen.

  “Didn’t your necklace belong to your grandmother?” Etienne’s dark eyes roamed her face.

  “Oui.” Smelling lily of the valley, now in bloom at Grand-mère’s estate, Suzanne turned her head, but couldn’t locate the wearer of the scent.

  Etienne kissed her fingertips, led her to the row of women, and then sought his place among the men.

  The music began.

  Grand-mère’s necklace jostled against her as she and Etienne executed their portion of the dance together.

  “Belle,” he mouthed at her, and her cheeks warmed.

  Through each new baroque dance, Suzanne gained confidence as she and her partner completed their steps. Minuet after minuet, they continued. The row of dancers swirled in colored silks, glistening jewelry, and high bewigged heads. Only moments seemed to have passed when, with surprise, she noted the candles being lowered.

  “I hope they change the chandelier tapers to something casting more light,” she called to Etienne as they passed each other in their steps.

  He laughed. “Unlikely.”

  Suzanne wanted to wrap a finger around one of the black curls that framed her companion’s perfect face. The most handsome young man at Versailles, Etienne belonged to her. And soon he would be her husband. All that remained lacking was his request for her hand. Her feet were on fire from the pinch of the slippers, but she mustn’t leave now. Not yet.

  Someone tapped Suzanne’s shoulder and she turned.

  Guillame. His face, paler than usual, with perspiration beading above his tight collar, caused her brother to appear as though he were being pursued.

  Suzanne’s stomach squeezed into the size of the oranges on the trees in the garden.

  “Care to dance?” Guillame offered his arm and glared at Etienne as if daring him to deny them.

  Etienne bowed toward Guillame and headed to a cluster of his friends.

  Guillame took Suzanne’s elbow and guided her onto the ballroom floor. The slower dance music held a hint of its rustic roots.

  “Let’s do one of our country dances, so I can speak with you, Suzanne.” This wouldn’t require that they change partners.

  They moved to an open area of dance floor, enough space only for them to perform the steps.

  “Stand on my boots,” he commanded.

  Peering down, she saw they were clean. But she’d anticipated they might not be. Their many forays into the countryside came to mind. Suzanne hesitated before he lifted her. One arm fit comfortably around her waist, and the other against her arm, their hands clasped.

  The best épée swordsman at court, Guillame exuded strength, and she relaxed into it. Soon his service to the king would be demanded. His own scent mixed with the lavender soap he used to bathe, but was still pleasant, unlike most of the men in the room.

  Dark eyes clouded as he explored her face. “Do you need to go home now? I can see your feet pain you.”

  “You read me well.” An uneasy sensation gripped her. Her brother perceived what Etienne hadn’t.

  “I’ve known you all your life. Of course I see your needs.”

  Did Etienne care for her as much as Guillame did? Maybe she was too sentimental, as Maman always said, wanting her husband to love and cherish her.

  “Do you need to leave?”

  “I’ll be all right.” She leaned her head against the soft wool of his jacket, shielding her face.

  Overhead, the gilded ceiling, painted with legions of fantastic figures, seemed to writhe in the candlelight.

  “This place disgusts me.”

  “Please, don’t start talking about religion here—not tonight.”

  He pulled away from her. “Listen, I have received news that could be very bad. I’m leaving, but I’ll be back to get you tonight.”
>
  Her back stiffened as he took hold of her waist and propelled her toward a more private area.

  “What’s happened?”

  Guillame smiled at a blonde woman who whirled by them, lilac-scented perfume enveloping her. Not one to flirt, her brother was being very deliberate in his behavior.

  “Rochambeau sent for me—perhaps to help guard the body of the king’s dead courtesan.”

  Her stomach clenched. She’d heard the disgusting rumors that no sooner had the woman died than King Louis brought her sister to court, to replace his mistress.

  “I’m surprised they haven’t called me sooner to do my service.”

  She wasn’t.

  “With Grand-mère gone, we cannot further excuse my duty.”

  “But, what if something happens with us, if…” If they were found out, Guillame would take Maman and Suzanne to Aachen and then on to Amsterdam, where they kept money on hand. From there, they’d sail on to the colonies, where they would begin a new life.

  They’d been to Amsterdam several times as a family, so that all would be familiar with the beautiful city. She swallowed and wished she could banish her anxiety. Dread began its way up her back, pinching her with spiky fingers.

  “I cannot refuse his request.” Guillame’s proud voice pierced her heart.

  “Nor this opportunity?” She hit her mark—pink returned to his high cheekbones.

  Suzanne fought back the bile in her throat. This room seemed darker now, the candles lower, and the crowd ominous.

  “There are other solutions for you than marrying Etienne. Suzanne, he has come under his brother’s influence.”

  “He hasn’t.” Not yet, she hoped. “I love him, Grand-mère wished this marriage, and Maman and Papa have agreed.”

  Guillame’s black hair fell across his face as he bent to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be back. Look for me.” He strode off, his bearing already that of a general.

  Rubbing her arms from the chill she suddenly felt, she returned to Etienne, moving close enough to inhale his spicy fragrance.

  As the orchestra struck up a lively tune, Etienne pulled her onto the dance floor and into position. “You’re so petite; I can sweep you up off your feet in this minuet.”

  When their turn came to dance together, Etienne whirled her round instead of clasping hands. Her pinched toes thanked him as her feet floated above the dance floor. Crystal chandeliers adorned with hundreds of candles glittered overhead. Dizzy, she clung to Etienne. Time suspended as he held her in his arms above the floor. The onlookers applauded their altered version of the minuet steps but Suzanne’s knees trembled beneath her pantaloons.

  The music ended, and the musicians began to set their instruments aside.

  Etienne still held her aloft.

  “Release me, please,” she whispered.

  “Of course.” He lowered her with great care.

  She arched away so that she wouldn’t be dragged against his body.

  Etienne’s ragged breath, hot against her forehead, begged her to come closer.

  Dread whispered in her ear, He’s not the same—he doesn’t know you or your family, not really. One word from him and she and her family could all be killed.

  Etienne kissed her cheeks then transported her across the parquet floor’s fantastic, inlaid multicolored designs to a dark corner of the ballroom, near the wide wall of windows.

  Multiple shadowed figures touched in intimate ways. Such lewd behavior, and in a public place.

  She backed away but bumped into Etienne, effectively stopping her. Suzanne blinked to clear her vision. Outside, in the garden, the greenery had turned to blackness, punctuated by pinpoints of candlelight. She longed for its freshness. “I should go home soon.” How much longer until Guillame returned?

  The duo in front of them might make love right there on the brocade chaise. The couples on the other side of the windows were too involved in their own trysts to notice, or perhaps they wished an audience.

  Suzanne waved her fan near her chest and placed a tentative finger on the cool pearls.

  Etienne laughed. “The ball lasts all night, ma petite, even if their passion doesn’t.”

  That was all he had to say about this outrageous behavior? She had to get out of here, but he hadn’t yet given her his promise.

  Quelling the desire to confront him right there, she resigned to wait. She’d spent so little time with him in recent years, but she refused to believe this was his normal behavior. “Let’s get fresh air.” She would talk to him outside, under the cloudless sky.

  His damp hand covered hers as he thrust the glass door open and led her out to the gardens.

  A cool breeze blew away the fetid air and the sensation of filth.

  “Come with me—by the wall.” Etienne’s hand closed over hers like the clasp on a lock.

  A year ago, the image would have comforted her, but tonight her beloved friend seemed a stranger. The alteration likely resulted from the time he was spending with his brother. Once married, she’d keep him away from Pierre.

  Etienne smiled at her with the same sweet, reassuring expression he’d always used to talk her into mischief when they were children. “It’s more secluded back there.”

  A rest on the stone bench nearby enticed, but his hand imprisoned hers. While she wished to be further from the ballroom’s crush, she didn’t want to be isolated.

  Candles, like fairy light, nestled everywhere in the garden. White tulips glowed above the ground. The orange blossoms enchanted with their luscious scent.

  The loveliness lightened her steps as Etienne led her through the maze of gardens. When her aching feet protested and she resisted going any farther, Etienne stopped and wrapped her in his arms.

  “Can you imagine it?” His breath tickled her ear. “Us—in the cathedral?”

  Her heart missed a beat. The chill in the air revived her, but she couldn’t speak. This could be the moment.

  “Who would you invite?” A serious question, but his tone teased.

  If he kept this up, she wouldn’t be able to breathe. A shame that they’d have to invite Pierre.

  “Etienne?” She licked her lips. Afraid to ask, she forced herself. “Did Madame DeMint speak with you of this?”

  His arched eyebrows drew low. “Of what?”

  Her mouth went dry. She shouldn’t have said anything. Maman would say she affronted him with her boldness. Etienne must propose. Goodness, his cologne was so strong he may have bathed in it. “Nothing.” Why did his meaning have to be so obscure?

  His smile crept back, and she touched his mouth with her fingertip. His lips were so beautiful. She couldn’t let him think her a complete prude. Perhaps tonight she should let him kiss her. Exhaustion began to muddle her mind. She closed her eyes. Should she wait until they were officially engaged, the announcement made?

  Etienne’s hungry mouth settled on hers. She tensed. His kiss, rough and insistent, frightened her. He clutched her so hard, she counted the buttons on his vest as a dozen of the offenders speared her chest. She wriggled, trying to loosen his hold. When his hand slid low on her back, nestling in the folds of her gown, she tried to pull away, but he forced her to still as he yanked her against him. He wasn’t stopping, but was taking indecent liberties with her, as his brother had tried.

  Suzanne had to jerk hard and slam her foot on his.

  Startled, Etienne released her.

  Her hands shook so hard, she couldn’t raise one to slap him. She wiped her bruised mouth with the back of her hand. Smelled the rose perfume Maman had dabbed there.

  Etienne stared over her shoulder.

  Suzanne whirled around to spy her brother, her body singed by shame. Trying not to panic, she took a deep breath. This was her fault. Her brother had tried to warn her. Intensified by her rapid breathing, the sweet oranges’ scent cloyed.

  “We’ve known each other a long time, Etienne, or I’d challenge you for my sister’s honor.”

  Her brother didn’t blame h
er. Gratitude washed humiliation away.

  “Suzanne?” His brow covered with perspiration, Guillame panted as though he’d been running. “It’s time to go.” His command left no room for negotiation.

  “I can accompany her home.” Etienne’s voice was smooth, but the edge razor sharp.

  Guillame’s lips twitched. “Unnecessary.”

  Relief mingled with regret to form a potent but deadly elixir, one she despaired of tasting.

  Etienne’s hands fisted.

  “This way.” Her brother hauled her along the candle-strewn path to the end of the allée.

  She tried to keep up with him.

  Guillame’s boots crunched on the pebbled path. “He’s a pig, like his brother. You’re much too genteel for either of those swine.”

  Her brother led her to the hidden gate in the wall, holding back the greenery so they could get through. The heavy metal structure screeched as the ancient iron unhinged. He expelled her from the garden.

  Beyond the thick perfume of the tuberoses, a horse neighed in the blackness.

  Guillame hugged her before he gazed up at the full moon, its light revealing his grave countenance. “We’ve been betrayed. Someone has informed the king that we worship as Huguenots. Get home to Maman as quickly as you can.”

  2

  Palatinate duchy, Eastern Germany

  Johan Rousch adjusted his heavy leather hunting bag over his shoulder before trudging on. He took only what his family needed, but more on this day since he was to travel. Soon he could fish in the river, which he much preferred.

  Exhaling loudly, he gazed at the crumbling ancient castle ahead in the clearing, his ancestral home, bestowed by the Holy Roman Empire and long abandoned. Sometimes, he allowed himself to imagine the dark-haired girl there, a young lady now, Suzanne. He pictured the castle new and bright and the two of them together, happy. How grateful he was that his family retained rights of ownership to the woods. No one could run him out of here. He hefted the bag to his other shoulder, glad that he was strong, healthy. Emerging from the tree line, Johan headed across the fields toward home.