“I cannot promise my daughter to any man without her permission, monsigneur,” Jasmine explained. “It is tradition in our family that our daughters choose their own husbands, m’sieu le marquis. As long as the gentleman is suitable, the choice is theirs . We prefer to marry for love, and no other reason.”
“Eccentric perhaps, madame la duchesse, but I would agree that love is the only reason to wed.” He bowed and kissed her hand again. Then, turning, he left the Great Hall of Archambault.
“Mon Dieu,”
Madame de Belfort said, fanning herself vigorously. “My nephew had best look to his interests if he is to have Autumn to wife.”
“Do not bother to alert him, Gaby,” Jasmine said. “Autumn has already told me that while she enjoys their company, neither Etienne nor Guy is for her. I have suggested she get to know them better before she makes her decision. My daughter is young. She may be a bit immature, but she knows her mind and is a sensible girl.”
“But d’Oleron is so . . . so . . .” Gaby floundered for the right word.
“So delicously dark and dangerous,” Madame St. Omer said with a twinkle in her brown eyes. “Oh, to be nineteen again, and as beautiful as Autumn! What a man our elusive marquis is, sister!” She smacked her lips with distinct relish.
“Oh, ’Toinette,” her sister wailed. “What are we to tell Etienne? He is truly enchanted with Autumn.”
“You will tell him nothing,
cousine,”
Jasmine said. “It is up to Autumn to decide, and to tell the others when she does. I do not want my daughter determining who to marry for all the wrong reasons. Or refusing to marry because she feels pressed by all of us.”
“You have favored d’Oleron all along,” Gaby hissed at her sister. “Poor Etienne!”
“I have indeed favored d’Oleron,” her sister admitted frankly. “It is time he married, and not to some silly, weak little mademoiselle, but a girl who burns with passion. Autumn is that girl, although in the end she may not want d’Oleron or any of the others. Etienne St. Mihiel is a man who would find to his regret that Autumn could not be molded into the French wife he truly desires. Such a union would be a disaster!” She kissed her sister’s cheek. “Let them sort it out themselves, Gaby. It will all work out eventually.” She turned to her cousin. “What do you think of him, Jasmine?”
“Nothing yet, ’Toinette. He is bold,
oui.
He is very handsome.
Absolument!
Autumn is intrigued, but only time will tell.”
“How do you know Autumn is intrigued with him?” Madame St. Omer asked curiously. “She only met him tonight, and you have not spoken to her since they danced.”
“Nay,
cousine,
I believe the marquis is the man Autumn told me she met in the forest while out riding. He puzzled her, and yet he excited her.” Jasmine laughed softly. “She thought he was a poacher, but he told her he was a thief—of hearts.”
Madame St. Omer chuckled. “That sounds like Sebastian.”
“How do you know him?” Jasmine wondered.
“His late mother was my best friend,” Antoinette St. Omer explained. “She was also my husband Raoul’s first cousin. His sister’s child. I have known Sebastian since he was born. Both his parents are dead. They had gone to Paris on a visit. When they returned home both had contracted the plague. They died within a day of each other. Sebastian was only sixteen, but he took on the responsibilities of his estates at Auriville, and his vineyards are every bit as good as Archambault’s.”
“How old is he?” Jasmine asked.
“Thirty this August past,” came the reply.
“Why has he not married before?”
Madame St. Omer hesitated a moment, and her sister spoke up.
“He was married,” Gaby de Belfort told Jasmine. “It was a shameful scandal!”
“It was not Sebastian’s fault,” Madame St. Omer responded quickly. “When he was seventeen he was wed to Elise Montpensier, the only daughter of the Comte de Montpensier. What can I say about Elise? She looked like an angel, but she was a daughter of the devil. No sooner were they wed than she began taking lovers. She had no discrimination. A nobleman, a stableboy. It made no difference to her. All she desired was a strong, tireless cock. When she found herself with child, she could not be certain it was Sebastian’s. So she went to an old witch woman in the forest to rid herself of the baby. Whatever it was the hag gave her killed Elise and her child. They had not been married even a year, Jasmine. He has not married since.”
“Do not forget Marianne Boucher and her daughter,” Gaby said sweetly. “She has been his mistress for seven years, and he has acknowledged her daughter, Celine, as his child.” She smiled at her sister. “Etienne is far more discreet than to publicly acknowledge his bastards.”
Jasmine laughed as her two cousins glared at each other, each determined to make her candidate for Autumn’s hand the winner in this contest. “Well,” she told them, “at least we know the gentlemen can father children. What of M’sieu Guy?” she teased them.
“A daughter and twin sons,” Philippe chuckled.
“O la la!” Jasmine replied admiringly, and the two sisters were forced to laughter themselves.
“What a quartet of busybodies we are,” Madame St. Omer said. “But I will admit to being eager to find what the outcome of this all is to be. Perhaps Autumn will have none of them.”
“I doubt my daughter could find better suitors anywhere else,” Jasmine told them, pleasing her relations mightily, for they really wanted to help in this delicate matter. “Tomorrow,” she continued, “we shall return to Belle Fleurs and give Autumn some time to herself. She has had far too good a time at Archambault and needs a bit more solitude to regain her sense of proportion. I shall tell Etienne and Guy they may not call upon us for at least a month. It is a good plan, eh?”
Her three cousins agreed, nodding their heads in unison.
Jasmine and Autumn returned to their home the following day.
“I am glad to be back,” Autumn admitted to her mother. “I hardly had time to sleep, or a moment to myself these past three weeks.”
“You do not miss the excitement, or your two eager beaux?” Jasmine smiled at her daughter.
“Etienne and Guy are entertaining, but I began to grow weary of their constant rivalry. I suppose some women would find it flattering, but I found it annoying. Particularly in light of the fact that I was never really alone with either of them, nor had I allowed them even so much as a kiss. It was becoming tiresome, Mama.”
“And what of the Marquis d’Auriville,
ma bébé?”
Autumn colored becomingly. “The marquis?” she said weakly.
“Oui,
m’sieu le marquis,” her mother said. “I saw him lead you off to dance, and when you returned several minutes later you were flushed. Did he kiss you?”
Autumn nodded. “He says he is going to marry me.” She bit her lower lip in vexation. “You know how I dislike being told what I am going to do, Mama. And yet . . .”
Jasmine laughed softly. “He fascinates you, doesn’t he?”
“Aye, he does,” Autumn admitted.
“Did you enjoy his kiss?”
“Aye, but I am not certain why. Was it because it was my first kiss? Or was it because he excites me? If having Etienne and Guy squabble over me wasn’t bad enough, this marquis confuses me even further. Would I like it if the duke or the comte kissed me?”
“You will only know if you kiss them too,” her mother said.
“Are you advising me to kiss every suitor I have?” Autumn had to laugh. “I do not think other girls have mothers who would suggest such a thing to them. Indeed, Mama, I think I am most shocked by you.”
“Nonsense,
ma petite!
There is nothing scandalous in what I propose. If you are to make a comparison between these three gentlemen, you must certainly kiss all three. How else are you to know? And not to know is a far worse fate. Of course, it must go no further than kissing, Autumn. A simple kiss is harmless, but anything else would be forbidden,
ma fille.
And most important of all, make no hasty decisions.”
Winter set in, but it was a far milder winter than Autumn was used to in Scotland. January passed, and they were left in solitude until its last day, when Sebastian d’Oleron came riding up the driveway to Belle Fleurs. His horse slowly crossed the bridge and passed through the chatelet into the chateau’s courtyard. A stableman hurried to take his animal when he dismounted. A tall man with a silver-flecked russet beard came forward.
“You are . . . m’sieu?”
“The Marquis d’Auriville,” Sebastian said. “I have come to call upon Lady Autumn.”
“I will escort you inside, m’sieu le marquis,” Red Hugh said.
Inside Adali hurried forward, garbed in his usual white trousers and long coat, a small turban upon his head.
“The Marquis d’Auriville to see the young mistress,” Red Hugh said. “Best to see if her grace approves first.” The last was said in English.
Sebastian d’Oleron’s face gave no indication that he had understood the Scotsman. The marquis was well educated and spoke several languages, English being among them. He was rather fascinated by this polyglot household of servants. He knew very little about Autumn, except that he wanted her and intended to have her.
“Will you come into the hall, m’sieu le marquis, and I will fetch my mistress?” Adali said. He bowed, then turned and led the way.
The marquis liked the Great Hall of the little chateau. It was warm and inviting with its country oak furnishings, its warm fires, the ancient tapestries hanging upon the stone walls, the Turkey carpets, the fragrance of potpourri.
“Please, will you sit by the fire, monsigneur? Marc! Wine for the marquis.” Adali bowed and then withdrew, leaving their guest comfortably ensconced with a goblet in his big hand. He found his mistress in the chapel with Autumn, who was being taught her catechism by the young priest, Father Bernard. “Madame, the Marquis d’Auriville has come to call upon the young mistress,” he said.
Jasmine rose, raising a restraining hand to her daughter. “I will go. When you have finished your lessons, Autumn, you may join us in the Great Hall. Please see to your coif before you come.” She walked quickly from the chapel. “M’sieu le marquis,” she greeted her guest as she came into the hall.
“Non! Non!
Do not get up. I will join you. Adali, some wine, please.” She smiled at him. “How clever of you to give my daughter some time after all the festivities we so enjoyed at Archambault. I suggested to the duke and the comte that they not call on us until mid-winter, but you were gone and I could not speak with you. Now here it is the last day of January, and you have come.”
“I want your daughter for my wife,” he said.
“You do not know my daughter, nor does she know you,” Jasmine replied. “I told you that the choice is hers, and it is. If you want Autumn, monsigneur, I am afraid you will have to court her properly, and you will probably have to put up with at least two rivals, as you already know.” Jasmine restrained a smile, seeing his irritation.
“I am not like those two wastrels,” he said. “I personally oversee my vineyards. I have little time for niceties, madame la duchesse. It is almost time to prune the vines, to add lime and fertilizer. The growing season will be upon us before you know it. I cannot dance attendance upon a pretty girl while my vineyards go to ruin.”
“I am no expert in such things, monsigneur, but I believe you may safely give up the month of February to come courting,” Jasmine told him with a small smile. “Tell me now, did you not court your first wife?”
“No, madame la duchesse, I did not. The marriage was arranged by my parents prior to their deaths. When I was seventeen I married Elise. Her dower consisted of some excellent land matching my estates, which I planted new vines upon. You have been told the gossip, of course, and you know that while the vines flourished, the marriage did not. I have been a widower for thirteen years.”
“Autumn’s father was a widower when I married him. He had been for many years,” Jasmine told him. “We had three sons, and two daughters. The children of his prior marriage had died with their mother. I brought four children to our marriage. We are a large family.”
“I have cousins and a sister who is a nun,” he offered.
“And your mistress and her daughter?” Jasmine pressed gently.
“I have bought Marianne a house, pensioned her, and Celine is in school with the nuns. Marianne understands that our liaison is now over. She is a practical woman, madame la duchesse,” the marquis told his companion. “When I wed again, I will be faithful, even as I was faithful to my first wife.”
“Then I have no objections to your paying your addresses to my daughter, Sebastian d’Oleron, but if you want Autumn, you will, I fear, have to court her properly. She is young and inexperienced, as I’m certain you realized when you kissed her. But you opened Pandora’s box with that kiss, I fear. Now she wants to know whether other men kiss the way you did.” Jasmine chuckled.
He laughed, and as he did he wondered why he was not upset by the duchess’s revelation. He had wed Elise and found her to be totally promiscuous. Instinct told him that the lovely Autumn was entirely different. Her curiosity was only temporary. The lips that had softened beneath his belonged to him, as she would soon learn.