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her waist. “Your father left you in her supervision?”
    “Yes, and she is at Fontainebleau.”
    “Then there is cause for the gleam in your eyes. When she understands the danger you are in, she will agree.”
    “She must.”
    “She knows me well. If she does not agree to the request, I will hound her until she does. I can have a man at Fontainebleau by morning.” He took her face into his warm hands and tilted her lips to meet his.
    “If I did not have concerns about leaving you here alone, even under the protection of Gallaudet and Julot, I would ride there myself this night, but — ”
    She clung to him. “No, I shall not permit us to be separated until the final ceremony is finished.”
    “I will not leave you. One of the men I trusted here at the estate, my captain of the guard, was bribed by Maurice to gain access to the castle. He escaped but an hour ago to take word to Maurice that we are here.
    Maurice is not at Fontainebleau. He is near at hand, and he is reckless enough to come here.”
    That Maurice would bribe one of Fabien’s guards infuriated her.
    “If he is not at Fontainebleau, then he could be here in Vendôme,” she said uneasily. “He and his men-at-arms could be concealed among the peasants.”
    “I would have denied such an idea earlier this evening, believing in my serfs’ loyalty, but I’ve already lost my captain of the guard to a few gold pieces. There may be more among the citizenry willing to conceal Maurice. I’ve sent some of my loyals into the villages to ask questions among the serfs, but I rather think he is at Amboise. If I knew where he was camped, I would call him out at once and be done with it.”
    She read the familiar resolute glint sparking in his eyes. “Maurice, too, will have men-at-arms, and he is as cold-blooded as a snake. He is very proud of his skills with his rapier.”
    “I know. He has long desired to best me with the blade.”
    “He is arrogant,” she said, and hid a shiver at the thought that Maurice might be near at hand, much nearer than they had anticipated, and likely under cover. How dare Maurice cast his shadow over her marriage here at Vendôme to the one and only galant she would ever desire?
    Fabien gazed at her with tenderness and stroked the side of her face.
    “Have no care, ma belle. I have said I would not see us parted now, and I meant my words.” His jaw hardened. “If Maurice comes, he will regret it. Come, I will write Madame. We will both sign our names. If she agrees, by tomorrow evening there will be no need to delay the wedding ceremony. I will make you mine before the journey to Dieppe.”
    And her heart’s desire would come to pass. She would marry Marquis Fabien at Vendôme in the Bourbon castle where princes of the blood were married, and their sons and daughters born — and perhaps one day, even a king of France!
    Her joy prompted feelings of courage, and she smiled her confidence at the man before her who would bring it to pass. Together they went to write the lettre that would forever change their lives.
    Later that night, after the lettre was entrusted to Julot, Rachelle returned to her chamber. She took several steps to the side of the grand bed and knelt in earnest prayer, petitioning God for the sufficiency of His grace to uphold Fabien in what must surely be an ordeal to come.
    Deliver us from the wicked traps set for us, O Lord, and bring us safely, in Your will and with Your blessing, to London.

    DUCHESSE DUSHANE HELD THE LETTRE from Marquis Fabien. Matters were most grave. If a trap had been set for him as he suggested, then Catherine would be aware that his ship had docked at Calais. Could she even know he had sent this lettre?
    She tightened her fingers around the jeweled handle of her walking stick.
    Is she making fools of us? She was watching me yesterday with that unblinking gaze of hers. Perhaps she realizes I have known of Sebastien’s plan to escape with his family to London for weeks. And if she