Intrigued (20 page)
“You are a good man, Sebastian,” his sister had said.
“How can you know that?” He had smiled at her. “We have hardly ever known one another, Jeanne Marie.”
“When my father died you paid my full dowry to the convent. You send gifts of grapes and wine yearly, as well as a generous purse, brother. And there are those who correspond with me here who tell me of you and your exploits, although I cannot say I approve of your mistress in Tours. Still in all, you are a man of honor, and God-fearing. The cardinal needs men like you, Sebastian. Will you aid him?”
“What would I be required to do?” he asked her. “You know I will not endanger the family, or Chermont.”
“You will be given a contact, and he will pass messages from the cardinal to you that you, in turn, will pass along to others. It is very simple. There is little if any danger involved. There are not so many of your kind that the cardinal can afford to lose them. As I have told you, he has no one in this area. It is likely you will hear from no one for months on end; but once in a while you may be required to act for his eminence. You will be here when that time comes, my brother.”
So he had agreed to act as the cardinal’s eyes and ears in his own small region, and Jeanne Marie had been right. He was not called upon often. Until the cardinal, had left France several months ago. After that, d’Albert had been on his doorstep several times. He usually passed his messages, which he memorized so there would be nothing to connect him to this intrigue, onto another person, always unknown to him. D’Albert had told him the cardinal believed it was better that his people not know one another. This was the first time he had been in a position to deliver a message to the final recipient.
Returning to Chermont, he assured d’Albert of his success and then mentioned Gaston d’Orleans. “I think he thinks me little better than some stupid farmer,” the marquis said with a chuckle.
“Probably,” d’Albert agreed. “His sense of self-importance is enormous. What did the queen say to you?”
“That she understood the cardinal’s instructions and will await his next message. She is in a dangerous position now, isn’t she?”
“She is,” d’Albert said, “but she will survive if for no other reason than to see the crown placed on her son’s head come September. I’ll leave before dawn, monseigneur. I do not know if we will meet again.”
“I understand,” Sebastian d’Oleron said. “I will now return to Belle Fleurs to pacify my betrothed, who will want to know why I thought the planting of new vines more important than her. I shall have to bring her an outrageous gift to assuage her irritation.”
To his surprise, however, he found Autumn quite reconciled to his absence, even as he offered her a small open box within which resided a pair of round ruby earbobs set in gold. “For you,
cherie.
I really do not think the vines more important than you are to me, but they are our livelihood. I would leave our heir an estate even richer than the one I inherited.” He kissed her lips tenderly.
cherie.
I really do not think the vines more important than you are to me, but they are our livelihood. I would leave our heir an estate even richer than the one I inherited.” He kissed her lips tenderly.
“I agree,” she told him quietly.
“You do?” He was surprised. Had she not only recently complained about his devotion to his estates?
“Oui.
Mama has explained it all to me. Now I understand. It is so easy for a woman to simply believe everything is as it is, and not question how it became that way.” Autumn smiled at him.
Mama has explained it all to me. Now I understand. It is so easy for a woman to simply believe everything is as it is, and not question how it became that way.” Autumn smiled at him.
He smiled back. He realized that he hated lying to her, yet she was but a girl. She could know nothing of the political intrigues that had been washing over France these past years. Here, amid the peace of the vineyards, Autumn felt safe, and he wanted her to continue to feel that way. He pushed aside his guilt. It was unlikely that the cardinal would ever call upon him again. Autumn need know nothing of the schemes and machinations in which he had been involved.
But as the day grew closer for the young king to assume his majority, France boiled with plots. In March the Parlement had begun a trial against the cardinal in absentia. Mazarin had had his assistant, Monsieur Colbert, prepare an inventory of the cardinal’s wealth, which he then used to recruit reliable soldiers into his service. Once Louis was safely enthroned, the cardinal knew he would be recalled. The king of Spain publicly offered the cardinal a place in his government. Jules Mazarin publicly refused, saying he would be a servant of France in his thoughts and desires until his death.
The cardinal was willing to play a waiting game, for he understood better than any his opponents’ weaknesses. There was a great divergence of interests between the princes of the blood royal and those of Paris; a lack of common ground even among the aristocrats and the imminent declaration of Louis’s majority. Time was on his side, not on the side of his enemies. In Paris the queen would manipulate those about her as he had taught her; and Louis, he knew, was equally skilled at deception, a fact his foes could not anticipate, for they thought the king a mere child. They would soon learn that age had little to do with intellect, or the ability to wield power successfully.
This was the France to which Autumn Leslie had come, but because she was living safely at Belle Fleurs she knew nothing of the turmoil. “I love my earbobs,” she told him. “They are every bit as fine as Mama’s ruby earrings.
Merci,
monseigneur.” Then she kissed him in return.
Merci,
monseigneur.” Then she kissed him in return.
How sweet she was, he thought as he put his arms about her and cuddled her against his chest. Autumn murmured softly as his hand brushed her breast, and she nuzzled his neck. “I am glad you understand my position,” he said softly, kissing her ear.
“I think we should choose a wedding day,” Autumn said, surprising him greatly with her sudden decision.
“What has brought this on?” he said, setting her back and looking into her face. Her odd eyes, the one blue and the other green, fascinated him.
“I do not think I can wait to lay with you much longer,” she replied bluntly. “When you touch me I both ache and burn, but I know not for what. It is very disconcerting, Sebastian! I think I need to couple with you, or at least that is what I can gather from speaking with Mama and her women. Do you not long to possess me entirely?”
He drew a very deep breath and then exhaled.
“Mon Dieu, cherie, oui!”
Then he enfolded her in his arms once again. “Autumn, my first marriage was a disaster arranged with the best of intentions by my parents and my wife’s parents. But from the moment she tasted passion, Elise wanted more. I could not satisfy her lusts, and she turned to other men with absolutely no discrimination at all. I love you! I want you! But I am also afraid.”
“Mon Dieu, cherie, oui!”
Then he enfolded her in his arms once again. “Autumn, my first marriage was a disaster arranged with the best of intentions by my parents and my wife’s parents. But from the moment she tasted passion, Elise wanted more. I could not satisfy her lusts, and she turned to other men with absolutely no discrimination at all. I love you! I want you! But I am also afraid.”
Autumn drew away from him, and he could see the look of absolute determination in her eyes. It was a look he had never before seen. “It is I who should be afraid, monseigneur,” she said. “What if I discover I do not like coupling?” Then she chuckled. “But that is unlikely. The women of my family are noted for their passion . . . and their loyalty. We do not betray our husbands. Since I wish to be well married before I reach my twentieth birthday at the end of October, I think we should set our wedding day for the last day of August. And because I see the question in your eyes,
cherie,
I will tell you that I do love you, Sebastian d’Oleron. I should not have set a wedding date if I was not certain of that fact.”
cherie,
I will tell you that I do love you, Sebastian d’Oleron. I should not have set a wedding date if I was not certain of that fact.”
“Why do you love me?” he demanded fiercely.
“Because your heart is good; you are loyal; you love your lands. Because you are outrageously handsome and you set my heart to beating wildly each time you enter my view. Because I have lain awake at night imagining what our children will look like. If that is not love, or at least its beginnings, Sebastian, it is good enough for me. I cannot conceive of marrying another man, but I know most certainly that I want to marry you. Love, I have discovered, is like fog. It is elusive. You cannot pin it down. You just know, and I do.”
He kissed her hungrily, and then he smiled down into her face, his eyes alight with his joy. “I knew that first day in the forest,” he told her again. “I knew, but I was afraid!”
Autumn reached up and gently stroked his smooth face. “You do not have to be afraid ever again, monseigneur.” Then she kissed him, yielding herself completely to his desires.
He felt, for the first time, the absence of restraint on her part. She seemed to melt into him, and her lips were soft beneath his, offering him everything. The marquis shuddered with his growing desire for Autumn. His hands tangled with the silkiness of her dark hair, holding her face so he might cover it with his kisses. His mouth touched her closed and shadowed eyelids, her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, traveling back again to the lips that were his forever.
She slipped her arms about his neck, pressing herself hard against him. She sighed and soared with the pleasure he was giving her with his hot kisses. She made neither cry nor resistance as they slid to the floor before the fire. She wasn’t afraid as his hand slipped beneath her skirts, pushing them up so that she felt the evening air on her skin. His hand caressed her belly, her legs, the insides of her thighs. His fingers tangled themselves in the dark bush that covered her Venus mont. A single digit ran itself insinuatingly along the deep slash that divided her nether lips. Autumn trembled.
“I will stop,” he said low.
“No!” was all she replied.
She was already moist with her excitement. He pressed the finger between the plump folds of soft flesh, seeking her little
bouton d’amour,
easily finding it and rubbing it gently. He could feel it beginning to swell beneath his ministrations. She began to squirm beneath his hand. Suddenly she cried out softly, her body stiffening first and then relaxing with a gusty sigh. Leaning over, he kissed her mouth, his tongue darting between her lips to play but a moment with her tongue. His finger was still between her nether lips. He began to play with her once more.
bouton d’amour,
easily finding it and rubbing it gently. He could feel it beginning to swell beneath his ministrations. She began to squirm beneath his hand. Suddenly she cried out softly, her body stiffening first and then relaxing with a gusty sigh. Leaning over, he kissed her mouth, his tongue darting between her lips to play but a moment with her tongue. His finger was still between her nether lips. He began to play with her once more.
“Again?”
she asked, surprised but not displeased.
she asked, surprised but not displeased.
“We will take it a step farther this time,” he told her. She was so deliciously wet. He desperately wanted to put his head between her soft little thighs and taste her, but he knew she was not ready yet for such delightful sport. Instead he firmly but carefully began to push the digit into her love channel. She gasped, surprised, but he soothed her with little kisses and soft reassurances, ceasing his forward movement for a moment, then pressing forward again.
Autumn didn’t think she could breathe, but then she drew a long, deep breath. The invasion of his finger was so intimate, so possessive. She was not so innocent that she didn’t realize the long slender finger was imitating his manhood. She arched herself against his hand, wanting him to delve more deeply, yet just the tiniest bit afraid. The finger seemed to encourage her to open to him like a flower, but then he stopped. “No! No!” she cried softly. “More, monseigneur.
More!”
More!”
But the finger withdrew gently.
“Non, cherie,
your maidenhead I will take as it should be taken. With my manhood.” He kissed her lips again and drew her skirts down.
“Non, cherie,
your maidenhead I will take as it should be taken. With my manhood.” He kissed her lips again and drew her skirts down.
“Then take it now!” she said recklessly. “I want to feel you within me, Sebastian! I do not understand it, but I need you!”
Sitting up, he gathered her into his arms and stroked her disheveled dark hair soothingly. “You are so new to passion,
ma petite,”
he said. “Do not doubt that I want you, for I do with all my heart, but on our wedding night you and I will begin to explore all the boundaries of desire. Not before then. I shall not again, before our wedding night, touch you, Autumn. It is all I can do to restrain myself from ravishing you, and you would obviously ravish me, given the knowledge, eh,
cherie.”
ma petite,”
he said. “Do not doubt that I want you, for I do with all my heart, but on our wedding night you and I will begin to explore all the boundaries of desire. Not before then. I shall not again, before our wedding night, touch you, Autumn. It is all I can do to restrain myself from ravishing you, and you would obviously ravish me, given the knowledge, eh,
cherie.”
She laughed weakly.
“Oui!”
she told him, totally unashamed.
“Oui!”
she told him, totally unashamed.
They lay together silently for some time before the fire in the hall, and then finally she arose reluctantly. He followed her, and together they ascended the stairs to their separate bedchambers. Before her door he took her into his arms to again kiss her. She kissed him back, then smiled, shaking her head.
“Why is it that your kisses make me want to rip my clothes off?” she wondered aloud. “I want to rip your clothes off too.”
He laughed. “You are a lustful wench,” he told her.
“But only for you, monseigneur,” she reassured him earnestly, looking up into his handsome face.
The silver eyes looked back at her.
“I know,”
he replied, meaningfully. “And I know you are nothing like Elise,
ma petite.
Now listen to me, Autumn. Tomorrow I will return to Chermont. I cannot remain here at Belle Fleurs, for I desire you too greatly, as you desire me. I will want you and your mama to come to my chateau in a few days to see where you will be living, and the house of which you will soon be mistress. If you spend the next two months preparing for our wedding, it will go quickly. August thirty-first is a good time, for it is just before the harvest. We are agreeed, then?”
“I know,”
he replied, meaningfully. “And I know you are nothing like Elise,
ma petite.
Now listen to me, Autumn. Tomorrow I will return to Chermont. I cannot remain here at Belle Fleurs, for I desire you too greatly, as you desire me. I will want you and your mama to come to my chateau in a few days to see where you will be living, and the house of which you will soon be mistress. If you spend the next two months preparing for our wedding, it will go quickly. August thirty-first is a good time, for it is just before the harvest. We are agreeed, then?”
“We are agreed,” Autumn answered him with a smile.
Chapter
9
9
“Y
ou are getting as bad as I am, my dear Gondi,” the prince said. “You see conspiracies where there are none.”
ou are getting as bad as I am, my dear Gondi,” the prince said. “You see conspiracies where there are none.”
“Better to be circumspect, Gaston, than careless,” came the dry reply. “Mazarin certainly has a network of spies and informants. He would be a fool if he didn’t, and we both know he is not a fool. He would also not be so well informed if he was not being sent information. It is too late in the game to destroy his network, but there is one way to dismantle and undo his influence with the king.”
“How?” Gaston d’Orleans demanded.
“The queen,” came the reply. “Power is like a game of chess, Gaston. If we check the queen, we have the king.”
“Are you mad?” the prince cried. “You cannot kill the queen! Even I, who have always disliked her, would not dare put such a stain on my immortal soul. Tell me, Gondi, do you ever consider your immortal soul?”
“Perhaps I shall one day, when I receive that cardinal’s hat I have been promised,” Gondi answered him. “I am not speaking murder, my poor prince. I am simply suggesting that if the queen was not about to influence young Louis—and we all know from where her ideas emanate—the king might be more amenable to our influence. The laws of France may stipulate a king can be crowned at thirteen, Gaston, but he is still an inexperienced lad. He needs our guidance.
France
needs our guidance.”
France
needs our guidance.”
“What do you propose?” Gaston d’Orleans queried his companion.
“The queen will see her son crowned next month even if she must personally slay dragons to attain that goal. Let Louis be instated officially. It is to our advantage that he be so. If we attempt to stop the king’s investiture, we will be called traitors. But once the crown rests officially upon those dark curls, we will become advisers, and confidantes of his majesty, the king.”
“And my sister-in-law?” the prince demanded.
“Will disappear into retirement, my dear Gaston. Away from Paris. Away from her son. It must be a luxurious sequestration. I would not have the king thought cruel to his dear and faithful
maman.
Where was that chateau you visited after Easter? On the Loire?”
maman.
Where was that chateau you visited after Easter? On the Loire?”
“Chenonceaux, on the Cher, near Tours.”
“A lovely place, I am told,” Gondi replied silkily.
“But if the king knows she is there . . .”
“But he will not, Gaston, nor will the country lordlings about the region know she is there. She will be imprisoned, but most comfortably. I have great respect for her station. Her priest will be allowed to accompany her, but her servants will be pensioned off. Better our own people serve her. You do understand why?”
The prince nodded silently.
“The reason we will give for her sudden departure is that, having fulfilled her duty to her late husband, she is now allowing their son his freedom to rule as he sees fit; being an intelligent lad, and wise beyond his years. It is just the sort of twaddle she would say,” Gondi chuckled, well pleased with his plan. “Now that we have gotten rid of Mazarin, the playing field is ours, Gaston! All ours!”
“You forget that my nephew is not a child any longer, Gondi.”
“Neither is he a man, and he is most devoted to his dear
maman.
He will do what we tell him for her sake, and her safety,” Gondi said.
maman.
He will do what we tell him for her sake, and her safety,” Gondi said.
“And if he does not?” the prince asked bluntly.
“There is always his brother, le petit Monsieur.”
“Jesu!
You speak treason, Gondi!” Gaston d’Orleans said, shocked. He had not realized before how truly ruthless his companion was.
You speak treason, Gondi!” Gaston d’Orleans said, shocked. He had not realized before how truly ruthless his companion was.
“It will never come to that, my dear Gaston,” Gondi soothed the prince in dulcet tones. “Louis, for all his station, is a young boy, like other young boys. He will be delighted to be freed of the restraints placed upon him by Mazarin and his mother. He will believe he is finally and really king. He can be kept amused in any number of ways. Let him begin to design that palace he is always babbling about that he wants to build at Versailles. We will put the best model makers in Paris at his disposal. They will make his dream come alive before his very eyes. It will take months and months of work. While he is playing, we will be ruling in his name. And there are other ways to keep him from troubling us. Have you not noticed that the young king has a very powerful libido? I am told that pretty little serving wenches are not safe from his lustful adavances these days. We will see only the loveliest of girls serve the king’s needs
in all ways,”
he concluded with a rich chuckle. “And, of course, we must arrange a good marriage for the boy, Gaston. Another ploy to amuse our Louis.” Gondi’s foxlike face was wreathed in a smile, and he rubbed his hands together, delighted with himself and his own cleverness.
in all ways,”
he concluded with a rich chuckle. “And, of course, we must arrange a good marriage for the boy, Gaston. Another ploy to amuse our Louis.” Gondi’s foxlike face was wreathed in a smile, and he rubbed his hands together, delighted with himself and his own cleverness.
“Perhaps,” Gaston d’Orleans said slowly and thoughtfully, “perhaps you are adroit enough to make this happen, Gondi.” A long and elegant finger stroked his chin. His blue eyes were contemplative. “My nephew, however, is most attached to his
maman.
He may not accept her absence easily. Eventually you will have to tell him where she is. Whatever you think, Gondi, Louis is the king. There will come a day when no man can stand in the way of what the king desires. What will you do then,
mon ami?”
maman.
He may not accept her absence easily. Eventually you will have to tell him where she is. Whatever you think, Gondi, Louis is the king. There will come a day when no man can stand in the way of what the king desires. What will you do then,
mon ami?”
“The mother will write the son, telling him of her pleasure in her retirement. Eventually we will supply her with gambling partners. You know how she loves to gamble. We will give her her own troupe of ballet dancers for her amusement. She will urge Louis to keep his mind on the business of his realm and not concern himself with her. After awhile such reassurances will content him. He will no longer care or ask.“
“If you are keeping her whereabouts such a secret,” the prince said sensibly, “how can we give her gambling partners and dancers?”
“We will keep the secret for a year or two, no more. By then the boy will be ours,” the cleric replied.
“And Mazarin?” the prince countered. “Do you really think he will be content to remain quiet while the queen disappears and we take control of my nephew? He has an army at his disposal! He will invade France. Then what will happen?”
“If he invades France, particularly when he is forbidden her borders, he is guilty of treason, my dear Gaston. He will be in the same position we have been in all these years. He will not dare to kidnap the king from us. Besides, at the first hostile move on his part, the queen’s very life will be in danger. I will make certain that he understands that. His love for Anne of Austria is well known, for all his cardinal’s robes. Now, tell me, Gaston, what chateaux are near Chenonceaux? I want to know whom we may trust and not trust.”
“The nobility of the region have ancient name but are little more than farmers,
mon ami.
They care nothing for politics, just the weather, which determines a good vintage year or a poor one.” He laughed scornfully. “When we were there last spring they came to pay their respects. Each of them done up in his or her best finery, at least five years’ out of date fashionwise, except a lovely young Scots girl, who is living in exile from the Commonwealth at a small chateau nearby. She was most fashionably garbed, as was her widowed
maman.
My nephew took her off to walk along the river gallery. He as followed at a discreet distance by the girl’s affianced.” The prince chuckled. “Louis returned rather quickly, but the girl and her gentleman came later. An amusing little incident that I should have forgotten, but that the same gentleman returned several days afterward. He came, he said, to bring the queen a small token that he had meant to bring on his previous visit. Scented gloves, I believe. My sister-in-law went into raptures over them. I thought it a bit odd, but when I questioned the gentleman he proved to be a bit of a dunce, I thought.”
mon ami.
They care nothing for politics, just the weather, which determines a good vintage year or a poor one.” He laughed scornfully. “When we were there last spring they came to pay their respects. Each of them done up in his or her best finery, at least five years’ out of date fashionwise, except a lovely young Scots girl, who is living in exile from the Commonwealth at a small chateau nearby. She was most fashionably garbed, as was her widowed
maman.
My nephew took her off to walk along the river gallery. He as followed at a discreet distance by the girl’s affianced.” The prince chuckled. “Louis returned rather quickly, but the girl and her gentleman came later. An amusing little incident that I should have forgotten, but that the same gentleman returned several days afterward. He came, he said, to bring the queen a small token that he had meant to bring on his previous visit. Scented gloves, I believe. My sister-in-law went into raptures over them. I thought it a bit odd, but when I questioned the gentleman he proved to be a bit of a dunce, I thought.”
“Who was he?” Gondi asked, curious.
“The Marquis d’Auriville,” was the reply.
The cleric thought a moment, then said, “I have never heard of him, Gaston.”
“Why would you?” the prince replied. “He is a farmer, unimportant. There is no reason any of us would know him.” A discreet cough made Gaston d’Orleans turn his head slightly. “Yes, Lechaille, what is it?”
“Your highness asked me to remind him of his supper with the queen. Your highness will want to change his garments. We just have the time to do so if your highness comes now.” The valet bowed.
“Where the devil did he come from?” Gondi demanded, startled to see the servant.
“Show him,” the prince commanded Lechaille.
The valet touched the wall, and a small door sprang open.
Gondi was astounded. “He might have been listening the whole time, Gaston,” he said, concerned.
“Were you listening to our conversaton, Lechaille?” the prince asked.
“No, your highness. I was laying out your garments, and preparing the water for your ablutions,” the valet said calmly.
“You see, Gondi, it is as I said earlier. You worry too much.” He arose from his chair. “I bid you good evening. I must go and get ready to join my sister-in-law and her son for the evening meal. Escort monseigneur out, Lechaille. Then come back and help me,” the prince said.
“How long have you been with the prince?” Gondi asked the servant as he was conducted from the prince’s apartments in the Palais Royale.
“I have been with his highness for two years, monseigneur. Before that my uncle, Pierre Lechaille, served his highness for almost forty years, and my grandfather served the prince’s father, King Henri the Fourth.”
“And what did your father do?” Gondi asked, curious.
“My father, monseigneur, died before my birth,” was the brief answer. “The courtyard is beyond that door, and you will find your coach waiting for you, monseigneur,” Lechaille said, bowing, and then turning away to hurry down the corridor.
With a shrug, Gondi exited the building. The prince was right: He was seeing plots where none existed. The valet was a loyal servant from a long line of loyal servants. The cleric clambered into his coach and was quickly gone.
Lechaille hurried down the hallway toward his master’s apartments. Entering them, he said to his son, who was his assistant, “Find d’Albert as quickly as you can, Rene.” Then he entered the prince’s dressing chamber, saying as he went, “I have seen your friend off, your highness.”
Taking up his cloak, the younger man ran quickly from the prince’s apartments and dashed from the Palais Royale. He moved through the streets of the city toward an inn he knew d’Albert frequented when he was in Paris. To his relief, the cardinal’s agent was having his supper when he entered Le Coq d’Or. “Wine!” Rene called out, and slapped a coin upon the counter of the inn’s taproom. Then, taking his pewter cup, he moved to stand by the large open fireplace, his back to d’Albert’s table. “My father needs to see you,” he murmured low.
“Tonight,” was the reply.
“It will be late,” Rene replied.
“I will be here,” was the answer.
Rene swallowed his wine down and departed the inn to hurry back to the palace before he was missed.
Well after midnight, Robert Lechaille entered Le Coq d’Or. He immediately spotted d’Albert, who surreptitiously signaled him toward the inn’s back stairs. There, out of the hurly-burly of the taproom, they met, and the prince’s valet told him of the discussion he had heard late that afternoon between his master and Gondi.
“You must get word to him as quickly as possible,” Lechaille said. “What they are planning is treasonous no matter that they couch it in clever phrases!”
“Did they say when?” d’Albert asked.
The valet shook his head in the negative.
“I do not know what he can do, other than warn the queen,” d’Albert said slowly, “but I believe the conspirators will not harm her physically. We have people quite near Chenonceaux, and at least we know she would be safe. Also, we can rescue her from there with little difficulty,” the cardinal’s agent told the valet.
“I could warn her!” Lechaille replied.
“If you do, your use to us is over, Robert. You would endanger your own life and probably the life of your son,” d’Albert told him. “He needs you where you are. This will not be over until the king is able to recall him, and we vanquish these troublemakers. It will all take time, and we have that time. Now, promise me you will do nothing foolish. You do trust me, don’t you, Robert?”
The valet nodded. “I do, d’Albert, even if I do not know your first name,” he said with a small, wry smile.
“Francoise,” was the amused reply. “I’ll get the message routed out of Paris tonight. Now go back to the Palais Royale and continue to keep watch for us.”
The two men shook hands, and Lechaille said, “God speed, Francoise!” Then he moved back down the staircase and was gone.
Alone, d’Albert sighed. He hated riding at night, but there was no help for it. The dawn was several hours away, and even at a snail’s pace he could be several miles out of the city before the sunrise. It was a long journey to the duchy of Cologne, but he would make it personally, speed being important. It was the end of August when d’Albert finally rode into the cardinal’s residence in Cologne.
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