Undone (41 page)

Fouquet’s eyes grew large.

“What do you intend to do?” He swallowed, his body pressing against the unyielding wall as Simon’s blade broke the skin’s surface, causing a small, bloody rivulet to trickle down his neck.

Simon’s breaths came hard and fast. “I plan to offer you the same mercy and decency that you have shown others.” Simon lowered his voice and added, “Including your own stepdaughter. Prepare to go to hell.”

“DROP THAT SWORD THIS INSTANT!” a voice boomed, startling Simon from his murderous rage. He searched out the commanding voice when suddenly the mass in the Grand Salon collectively bowed and curtsied low.

As their heads lowered, Simon saw their twenty-two-year-old king at the entrance. “Do
not
kill that man!” Louis demanded, vexed.

Simon’s eyes rolled back over to Fouquet, who was smiling even with a blade to his skinny neck.

“You heard your king, beggar born. Kill me, and you die as well.”

No. He wanted Fouquet to die so badly. By his hand. With Robert’s sword. Simon’s vision darkened.

All he had to do was press his sword little more…

“Simon, don’t!” Angelica cried out. “Please!”

Her voice scrambled his malevolent thoughts. His head snapped up. She stood beside Louis, her eyes pleading silently with him.

Dieu
, he’d sworn to bring Fouquet down, to make him pay, but to defy the king’s order would take away his chance of gaining nobility and marrying Angelica, as he’d promised Robert. As his heart so wished to do. But what if Louis did nothing about the ledgers? What if Fouquet was left to continue, unchecked? Oh, how he wanted to drive the blade through him. To hear him howl in pain. To watch him
die
.

“Please, Simon, put down the sword!” Her plea, in her eyes and in her voice, yanked him from his thoughts once more. He returned his attention to Fouquet, who remained frozen against the wall, barely breathing as he keenly watched Simon’s reaction.

Simon swallowed hard and took in a breath, trying desperately to quell his murderous desire. Slowly, he forced his sword arm down. His hand shook visibly.

Fouquet grinned, victorious. “You see, someone like you could never stop someone like me.” He leaned closer and said in a low voice, “By the way, nothing in my life was sweeter than sinking into the innocent young flesh of my beautiful stepdaughter.” Then he laughed.

The words sent a jolt of violent rage through Simon. He shoved Fouquet back against the wall and thrust. His sword sliced through the unsuspecting flesh of Fouquet’s shoulder.

Fouquet recoiled, shocked, filling the room with a blood-curdling shriek. Simon leaned in, knowing that the tip of the sword pressed against bone. Fouquet continued to howl in agony. Simon stopped inches away from his ear.

“The pain you feel is small in comparison to the suffering you have imposed on others. And this is a small payment for what you did to her.”

Simon yanked out his sword.

Fouquet slammed his palm against his wound, trying to contain the blood, still wailing between pants.

“Arrest him!” Louis bellowed out.

He stepped away from Fouquet, bracing for the moment the King’s Musketeers would seize him.

Someone grabbed him and shoved him back.

Stupefied, he saw two musketeers seize Fouquet’s arms.

“
Me?
” Fouquet shrieked, reeling between physical pain and shock.

He was dragged before the king. Louis stood erect and authoritative, in sharp contrast to the genial king everyone knew, who enjoyed merriment and women—all indulgences that were the prerogative of a young monarch. He looked regal dressed in a gold-and-white doublet and breeches with a white hat and large gold plume.

“What have I done?” Fouquet cried out.

Angelica watched her stepfather. For a man who had risen so fast and so high in power, who had never offered anyone in his path compassion or mercy, he’d never looked more pitiful.

Louis lifted his chin. “I placed my trust in you, the Superintendent of Finance,” the king began. “I expect honesty from you at all times, and yet you steal from me and France!” A collective gasp swept the room.

Fouquet, who was being held by the two musketeers, paled further. Blood ran down his arm, yet arrogantly, he straightened his spine. “I’ve shown the highest integrity for my post, Sire!”

“
Do not lie to me!
Let it be known before all here that I have proof of your gross deceit! Your wickedness is scribed in these ledgers.” Louis gestured beside him at Simon’s ledgers held by Jules and Armand.

“Those are not mine!”

“I’m aware of that. They belong to Monsieur Boulenger.”

“
Him?
Sire, he’s no more than a scoundrel. Completely untrustworthy.”

“Perhaps.” Louis tilted his head. “But why, then, do his figures match the figures in your ledgers,
written by your hand
?”

Angelica heard Fouquet’s gasp when he saw two musketeers holding the brown ledgers he’d hidden at Beaulieu. His dark eyes darted accusingly at her. The silent word,
You!
burned in his eyes.

She glared back at him with smug contempt. Walking into Beaulieu had been the most difficult thing she’d had to do. Memories had swamped her from the moment she stepped into the château. Painful memories lurked in every room—memories of her mother’s sadness that had consumed her during her marriage to Fouquet, and of the night that had changed Angelica’s life. The night of her rape. It was in the very library where the rape had occurred that Angelica found the hidden ledgers. She’d carried them out of Beaulieu herself, for they symbolized the future, leaving behind the ghosts of the past, ghosts that had haunted her for too long.

Seeing her stepfather’s misdeeds finally catching up to him filled her with such satisfaction. She’d done it for Simon. Yet it aided her in ways she couldn’t have imagined.

Her stepfather was finally going to pay for all he’d done.

“Be gone from my sight.” Louis waved his hand. Immediately, the musketeers dragged Fouquet out pleading and bleeding. Fouquet’s wife broke through the crowd. “No, Sire! Please!” she cried out. The pity Angelica felt for the woman who shared her age didn’t touch Louis, for he didn’t so much as look her way as two more musketeers stepped forward to escort her, weeping, from the room.

“Monsieur Boulenger, approach!” Louis commanded.

Simon hadn’t moved from his spot since the musketeers grabbed Fouquet. The unprecedented events unfolding before him held him immobilized with astonishment, leaving him feeling almost light-headed.

Fouquet arrested.
At last.

Simon forced his legs to move forward. Stopping before the king, he bowed low.

“Sire.”

“Boulenger, have you trouble with your hearing?” Louis was still vexed.

Simon didn’t require further explanation. He’d raised the king’s ire by defying his command and piercing Fouquet with his sword. He might not have been arrested for it, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t still be punished. His fury had gotten the better of him. His act of public defiance had removed the likelihood of gaining nobility. Whatever punishment Louis would render, it couldn’t be worse than having failed Robert and his beloved Angelica.

“No, Sire. I have trouble with the injustices imposed by the Finance Minister on the people of the realm who must have the resources to provide themselves with the basic necessities of life to give them the strength to serve you well.”

“And you appoint yourself their defender? Their leader?”

“No, Sire. You alone are their leader. You are their king. And they wish your leadership, desperately.”

Louis considered Simon’s words for a moment. “I have heard their cries and am aware of their needs and wishes, Boulenger, just as I am aware of yours.”

Simon looked up at the king, trying to gauge the meaning behind his words. He then turned to Angelica, whose smile was as brilliant as the sun on a summer’s day.

Louis continued, “I’ve heard about you for some time now. The late Marquis de Névelon very much made it a point of taxing my ears with your many naval and financial successes for France. Back then, I left these matters in the hands of others, believing that they were attending to them justly. That has changed. Now then, Monsieur Boulenger,
kneel before me
.”

Simon’s brows shot up. His heart sputtered. For a moment, he was frozen in disbelief. His gaze darted to Angelica. She continued to smile, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

Simon looked down at Robert’s sword still clutched firmly in his hand. He swallowed the lump of emotions that welled up in his throat as he thought of Robert. This was what he had wished for him always.

Slowly, Simon turned the sword until the tip touched the floor and used it to aid him down onto his knee, overwhelmed with the incredulity of the moment. The crowd erupted, equally surprised as they realized what the king was about to do.

“This man is Simon Boulenger, the Black Demon. For his outstanding service to his country, I recognize all of his past accomplishments, and I deem them to have been performed while he was the commodore of a distinct elite fleet of the French navy.” A cheer filled the room, echoing in the domed ceiling. Simon turned and saw that a battalion of his men had filled the overcrowded salon. The men from the King’s Navy joined in the jubilation. His gaze traveled to Angelica, who continued to beam at him, tears of joy welling forth.

Louis raised his hand, silencing the crowd. He continued, “Furthermore, all of his loyal men are to be recognized as part of the French navy and derive any and all benefits that it brings.” Another burst of jubilation erupted. “Now then, Monsieur Colbert, if you will read the document.”

Simon’s heart lost a beat.

Colbert stepped forward. Stopping before Simon, he unrolled the parchment he held in his hands and began to read.

“
By the grace and favor of the most serene, most mighty, and most Christian Majesty, King Louis XIV of France, His Majesty, whom we have praised above, affirms and announces publicly by these Letters Patent that Simon Boulenger, in consideration of his merits and valor, and as a reward for services rendered, be hereby ennobled.
”

Simon lowered his head and closed his eyes. Ennobled. The word that exalted him in society humbled him. He swallowed hard and gazed up at Angelica. Tears rained down her cheeks now, although she still wore a radiant smile on her lips.

“…
the said Simon Boulenger, and his children to be born in loyal marriage, shall hereby enjoy all honors, immunities, prerogatives, and pre-eminences which are customarily enjoyed by noble gentlemen of noble lines…
”

As Colbert continued to read, Simon wrestled to accept what his ears were telling him.
A dream come true
. One he’d had for so long and had all but given up on. He squeezed the hilt of Robert’s sword.

His gaze returned to Angelica. Her lovely cheeks were moist with tears of joy, her smile now hidden behind her trembling fingertips. His chest tightened, so overcome with emotion he could barely register the words Colbert read. Colbert suddenly stopped. Another roar of enthusiastic approval reverberated in the Grand Salon.

Colbert stepped back.

Louis silenced the crowd once more with a lift of his hand.

“Monsieur, since Sorbon has been bequeathed to you by the late Marquis de Névelon, with these Letters Patent, I grant you the title, Comte de Sorbon.”

Applause and cheers filled the air.

Louis stepped close to Simon and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “I have convened a special emergency assembly. Fouquet shall be on trial for his life. I expect a favorable result. Without the proof of the ledgers your men and Madame la Marquise provided me last eve, I could not have proceeded as I have today. I’d grown weary waiting to be rid of this man, acquitting him of his self-enriching role. Therefore, it is with tremendous gratitude that I’ve bestowed upon you the honors you have received today. However, if you ever disobey me in public or private again… Need I say more to you, sir?”

“No, Sire.”

“Good. Your men have delivered your last capture of silver. Very impressive.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

“Now, I understand that the late Marquis de Névelon’s wishes were that you marry Madame la Marquise without delay, at which point both lady and Névelon will be yours. Clearly, he loved you like a son.”

“And I loved him as greatly as any son could love a father, Sire.”

“Then, we shall respect his dying wishes. Thus, upstairs in chapel, at my request, Père Martineau awaits you and your lady. Valid upon marriage, you will be the next Marquis de Névelon. However, out of respect for the memory of the late commodore, you shall marry discreetly, if your lady is willing.” Louis gave Angelica a leering assessment. “She’s quite magnificent. I could be persuaded into further generosities if you are willing to share.”

“She is absolutely not negotiable, Sire.” Simon held his wrath in check, but his voice was firm, his words unequivocal.

Louis lifted a brow. “Really? Pity.” He straightened and stood tall and regal. “Monsieur le Comte, rise!” he commanded for all to hear.

Applause thundered in the salon as Simon rose to his feet.

Angelica rushed forward and threw her arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder. Simon looked up at Louis. The king rolled his eyes. With an impatient wave of his hand, he dismissed Angelica’s actions and walked away.

Simon wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek against her soft hair. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her soft fragrance. The joy of holding her once more swelled his heart until he thought it would burst.

She looked up at him; her green eyes shone tenderly. “I’m so happy for you, Simon.”

“None of this could have been possible without you. You make my dreams complete. Angelica, will you marry me?”

She lowered her head and shook it slowly. Simon’s heart lurched. She looked up again, this time with a radiant smile. “I have loved you for so long. I thought you would never ask. Yes! Yes, I will marry you.”