The news was slow in reaching her, so it was early November when she had learned about Maitland’s attempted trap. Although Pansy was now within a month of giving birth to her second child, Velvet, whose child was not due until the spring, did not yet show her condition. It was a warm, late-autumn day that found her in the small kitchen garden pulling leeks for Mignon’s ragout. Suddenly a magnificent, antlered stag leaped over the low garden wall and, dashing around the building, dove into the lake that surroundedBelle Fleurson three sides, swam across it, and disappeared into the forest beyond.
Sitting back on her heels, Velvet laughed, but her mirth was cut short by the arrival of several huntsmen, one of whom demanded, “Have you seen a stag go by, wench?”
“It ismadame,” she replied, “and who gave you the right to hunt on my lands?”
“All of France is the king’s land,” came the arrogant reply.
“But for Paris,” Velvet rejoined, “and a king without a capital is not much of a king. Besides, you don’t look like a king to me.”
“He isn’t,” said another voice, and a tall, lean man pushed his horse forward to the low garden wall. “He is the Marquis de la Victoire, but I, madame, am Henri de Navarre, at your service.”
Velvet rose and curtsied politely. “Forgive my hasty tongue, Your Majesty,” she said.
“I liked it better when you were scolding me,ma belle,”he replied with a smile. “You have the advantage of me,chèrie.I do not know who you are.” His eyes swept quite boldly over her.
“I am Velvet Gordon, sire,” said Velvet.
“English?”
“My father is both English and French. My mother is Irish, and I, sire, am married to a Scot.”
“You are too beautiful to be wed to a dour Scot,chèrie.
You should be a Frenchman’s wife! Tell me, where is your husband?”
“In Scotland, sire.” She brushed the loose dirt from her velvet skirt. How embarrassing to be caught looking such a fright! Still, perhaps it was better that way, for Henri of Navarre was a notorious womanizer. Looking as dusty and unappealing as she did would encourage him to be on his way.
The king, however, was very adept at seeing the gold beneath the soil. “Return to the chateau,” he told his companions. “We have obviously lost our quarry.” Then with a small smile he lowered his voice and said, “I have other game in mind now,mes amis!”
The gentlemen riding with the king departed without a protest. Though civil war still controlled France, keeping him from his throne in Paris, they knew he was safe here in the Loire Valley.
The king dismounted, asking as he did so, “What is this chateau called?”
“Belle Fleurs, sire,” replied Velvet.
“And it is yours?”
“It belongs to my parents.”
“Ah,” said Henri. “You have come to visit with your parents.”
“My parents live in England, sire.”
“Your husband is in Scotland, your parents are in England, and you, madame, are in France. I do not understand.”
Velvet laughed at his perplexity. “Is it really necessary that you understand, sire? You do not even know me.”
“A lover!”the king cried. “You have come to be with your lover!”
“I have no lover, sire. I am a respectable married woman, I promise you.” This was becoming very uncomfortable. Velvet did not want to explain to the French king, who was an ally of the Scots king, why she was here in France. Henri of Navarre was a most exasperating man! Why did he insist upon going on like this? She would have to tell him something for he obviously would not go away unless she did. “I have come to France for my health, sire,” she said. “The Scots winters are not easy, and as I was ill last year, my husband feared for my health and insisted that I spend this winter here atBelle Fleurs.He will join me when he is able.”
“Then you are alone,chèrie?”
“I have my servants, sire, and my grandparents live nearby,” she answered him demurely. She hoped that the mention of family would send him on his way.
“Did you know that your eyes are the color of the ferns one finds only in the deepest part of the forest?” the king asked.
Velvet flushed.
