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Authors: Freda Lightfoot
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newer rivals.’
‘Then you do not pine for her?’
‘Why would I, when I have my beautiful Fosseuse?’ Henry drew the young girl to his side to introduce her to Alençon, and saw at once his mistake. The Duke’s eyes lit up as they beheld the young beauty, and it soon became clear that he had fallen head over heels in love with Fosseuse at first sight.
Much to Navarre’s fury, his brother-in-law spent the rest of the evening complimenting her with all the skills and impeccable manners he had acquired at the French Court. Alençon kept on asking Fosseuse to dance and she kept accepting, clearly flattered by his attention, and so it continued in the days following. Henry began to worry that his petite fille was being easily seduced by his brother-in-law’s charm because she was feeling homesick for the sophisticated life she had left behind in Paris.
The girl was still young, and Henry had been careful not to be too impatient or seem to rush her. She had not yet succumbed, always drawing back whenever their love making became too intimate. It was little Tignonville all over again, only the prize was surely greater. Now he grew fearful that, pockmarked dwarf though he may be, Alençon might win her first.
‘You must speak to your brother,’ he barked at Margot when he visited her bedchamber a day or two later.
Margot paused in brushing her long dark hair to look at him with that haughty expression on her lovely face which so infuriated him. ‘On any particular matter?’
‘You know of what I speak. Alençon is monopolising Fosseuse. He’s paying court, panting for her.’
Margot set down the brush and applied a little rouge to her cheeks and lips. ‘It is your own fault for sharing the same taste in women. He was ever your rival.’
‘Fosseuse is different from de Sauves. She is young and vulnerable. I will not have her spoiled,’ Henry declared, pacing back and forth in an agitated manner.
Margot raised mildly questioning brows. ‘Not until you have spoiled her yourself first, eh?’
Navarre ignored the jibe. ‘You will speak to him? He always did listen to you. I swear he is doing this only to vex me, but I am not amused. Tell Alençon he may have any woman in the court, but not mine.’
‘I will consider the matter.’ She cast him a teasing look. ‘Now, do please go. I am expecting a visitor of my own this evening, and I’m sure you have no wish to perform your marital duties if your thoughts are so caught up with your petite fille.’ And dropping her robe de chambre to the floor, Margot walked naked to the bed, aware of his eyes upon her.
Navarre could feel himself hardening just watching her. This wife of his was the very devil of a woman. He marched out, slamming the door behind him. Margot lay back on her black satin sheets, laughing. Oh, how she was enjoying her freedom.
The last few years in Nérac had been such happy ones that Margot saw no danger in admitting to her infatuation for Champvallon, nor consider for a moment that her husband would ever object, let alone send her back to her hated brother. How could he criticise her for infidelity when he was guilty of the very same offence? A moment later her lover arrived, and Margot instantly forgot about the problem of Alençon and Fosseuse; too caught up in her own love affair to care.
The court was highly entertained by this new rival for Fosseuse’s affections and while the ladies gossiped in corners, the gentlemen laid surreptitious bets on who might win the prize of the girl’s virginity, the King or the Duke, even though gambling was strictly forbidden in this Puritan court.
Mademoiselle Rebours was also paying particular attention to this tangle of royal love affairs. She deeply resented the fact that Margot had deliberately brought Fosseuse to the King’s attention in order to foil her own ambitions in that direction. The girl was young and healthy, could no doubt easily bear him children, while her own health had
‘Then you do not pine for her?’
‘Why would I, when I have my beautiful Fosseuse?’ Henry drew the young girl to his side to introduce her to Alençon, and saw at once his mistake. The Duke’s eyes lit up as they beheld the young beauty, and it soon became clear that he had fallen head over heels in love with Fosseuse at first sight.
Much to Navarre’s fury, his brother-in-law spent the rest of the evening complimenting her with all the skills and impeccable manners he had acquired at the French Court. Alençon kept on asking Fosseuse to dance and she kept accepting, clearly flattered by his attention, and so it continued in the days following. Henry began to worry that his petite fille was being easily seduced by his brother-in-law’s charm because she was feeling homesick for the sophisticated life she had left behind in Paris.
The girl was still young, and Henry had been careful not to be too impatient or seem to rush her. She had not yet succumbed, always drawing back whenever their love making became too intimate. It was little Tignonville all over again, only the prize was surely greater. Now he grew fearful that, pockmarked dwarf though he may be, Alençon might win her first.
‘You must speak to your brother,’ he barked at Margot when he visited her bedchamber a day or two later.
Margot paused in brushing her long dark hair to look at him with that haughty expression on her lovely face which so infuriated him. ‘On any particular matter?’
‘You know of what I speak. Alençon is monopolising Fosseuse. He’s paying court, panting for her.’
Margot set down the brush and applied a little rouge to her cheeks and lips. ‘It is your own fault for sharing the same taste in women. He was ever your rival.’
‘Fosseuse is different from de Sauves. She is young and vulnerable. I will not have her spoiled,’ Henry declared, pacing back and forth in an agitated manner.
Margot raised mildly questioning brows. ‘Not until you have spoiled her yourself first, eh?’
Navarre ignored the jibe. ‘You will speak to him? He always did listen to you. I swear he is doing this only to vex me, but I am not amused. Tell Alençon he may have any woman in the court, but not mine.’
‘I will consider the matter.’ She cast him a teasing look. ‘Now, do please go. I am expecting a visitor of my own this evening, and I’m sure you have no wish to perform your marital duties if your thoughts are so caught up with your petite fille.’ And dropping her robe de chambre to the floor, Margot walked naked to the bed, aware of his eyes upon her.
Navarre could feel himself hardening just watching her. This wife of his was the very devil of a woman. He marched out, slamming the door behind him. Margot lay back on her black satin sheets, laughing. Oh, how she was enjoying her freedom.
The last few years in Nérac had been such happy ones that Margot saw no danger in admitting to her infatuation for Champvallon, nor consider for a moment that her husband would ever object, let alone send her back to her hated brother. How could he criticise her for infidelity when he was guilty of the very same offence? A moment later her lover arrived, and Margot instantly forgot about the problem of Alençon and Fosseuse; too caught up in her own love affair to care.
The court was highly entertained by this new rival for Fosseuse’s affections and while the ladies gossiped in corners, the gentlemen laid surreptitious bets on who might win the prize of the girl’s virginity, the King or the Duke, even though gambling was strictly forbidden in this Puritan court.
Mademoiselle Rebours was also paying particular attention to this tangle of royal love affairs. She deeply resented the fact that Margot had deliberately brought Fosseuse to the King’s attention in order to foil her own ambitions in that direction. The girl was young and healthy, could no doubt easily bear him children, while her own health had
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