“Near enough,mon ami.So come and dance with my Nicole. She will make you cheerful.”
She very nearly did, for Renaud’s wife was one of the most peaceful women Dominic had ever met. Short, slightly plump, dressed neatly but unexceptionally in dove gray silk, Nicole seemed wrapped in contentment whether here at the heart of court or in her Loire Valley home. As they danced a pavane, she smiled up at him and said, “I wish to thank you,monsieur le duc,for your care of my husband last summer. Although defeat is never easy for a soldier, I know you treated him with great kindness. I am grateful that you sent him home to me so quickly and unharmed.”
“It was my honour, madame,” Dominic replied truthfully. “And how is your new daughter?”
Her smile widened, lighting her face with beauty. “Six months old and already Renaud claims that he will have to kill many men in future to protect her virtue. He dotes upon her.”
“And your sons?” They had two, sturdy boys.
“Both are well and growing so fast! I am glad that there is now peace between our countries, monsieur, for this is the first summer in many that my husband has not been at war somewhere. He will return home with me soon and that is all I ever want.”
Studying Nicole LeClerc’s glowing face—a woman serenely in love with her husband and children and home, so glad to be at peace that her husband might be safe—Dominic realized just how many people William had it in his power to injure. When the king broke the French marriage contract, it wasn’t just Elisabeth de France who would be affected, nor even her royal father. Their pride would suffer, but if it came to war again many men and women stood to lose much more.
He has to marry Elisabeth, Dominic realized, and not just because I want Minuette. It is wise, and it has always been my job to tell him what is wise. Had not William often said he relied on Dominic to be honest when no one else would be?
Sustained by the righteousness of that thought, Dominic bid Nicole a heartfelt farewell and determined to pin down Minuette tonight if it was the last thing he did. He felt the need to apologize to her—though he wasn’t stupid enough to tell her about Aimée, he still felt guilty—and to discover why she was so unreachable tonight.
Dominic wound his way through the Salle des Fêtes, slowed by the increasingly volatile Frenchmen whose tongues and tempers were loosened by drink (not to mention the Frenchwomen whose boldness increased as the evening wore on) and by the necessity to behave courteously. He had to change directions once to avoid Aimée, and finally caught sight of Minuette, burning bright in her crimson gown. She stood against one of the frescoed walls speaking to Renaud.
Or rather, Renaud was speaking to her, leaning in close, and when he straightened, Minuette looked directly at Dominic as though she had known precisely where he was. Renaud stepped away. Dominic could almost see Minuette’s indecision and the moment when she steadied herself before coming to him.
He allowed himself to watch her, exquisite in her crimson gown and lit up like a torch so that no man could ignore her. His desire roused as it always was in her presence; it wasn’t until she asked, “Will you dance, Dominic?” that he smelled the wine on her breath. He had seen her drink more than usual at dinner and afterward, but he had not realized that she was drunk.
Minuette’s expression was all seduction as she took his hand and put it on her waist. “Don’t you want to dance with me?” She stepped into him, and instinctively he led her into the opening of an allemande.
But the second time she fumbled a step, he couldn’t pretend any longer that all was well. Grasping her by the upper arm, he towed her off the dance floor into a window embrasure that gave the illusion of privacy.
“You’re drunk,” he said flatly. “Care to tell me why?”
She opened her mouth, then a shadow of obstinacy crossed her face and he knew they were going to argue. “No.”
“I’m taking you back to your room.”
Her laugh was tipsy, and wrong. “And will you stay?”
“Long enough to find Carrie. You need to sleep this off.”
“I don’t want to sleep.”
“Too bad.”
She jerked her arm out of his grasp and hissed, “Don’t tell me what to do. If I want to dance, I’ll stay and dance. If I want to drink, then I will.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“And if I want to kiss you…” She tipped her face up to him and her lips parted.
He stepped back hastily. “Not here, Minuette. People will talk.”
Fury darkened her face, for a moment making her look disconcertingly like William in a temper. “And heaven forbid anyone should talk aboutyou.” The scathing words spilled out of her, almost tumbling over each other. “It’s your job to be perfect and remote and never give rise to a single rumour.”
“I don’t know why you’re upset, but can we please talk about it elsewhere?” Already, those nearest to their alcove were turning curious heads at the commotion.
Minuette didn’t move. “In your chambers perhaps? Except no, it would not be wise to take me to your bed. You reserve that for a French whore!”
Even while his sickened mind took in the fact that, somehow, Minuette knew about Aimée last night, Dominic knew he had to get her out of this far too public place—and fast. He reached for her hand, desperate to get somewhere private, muttering, “Minuette, please—”
She struck as rapidly as a snake, her palm connecting with his left cheek so hard that it rattled clear through his already aching skull. His vision clouded for a handful of breaths, and when it cleared he could see that she was nearly as shocked as he was, as though her moment of violence had released all her pent-up emotions. When he said, “Please, let me take you to Carrie,” she dipped her head and let him escort her out without a word. A trail of glances followed in their wake—including Aimée herself, who looked so satisfied that Dominic wanted to follow Minuette’s example and slap her.
