Chapter 13

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Amorette had never been more humiliated in her life than when she felt the first slap of some form of rotten food hit her back. She had expected it, but it was still an unpleasant experience. For the past week or two she had tried to keep a low profile, but everywhere she went, the whispers and stares followed. Earlier that morning she had come to the conclusion that what had occurred was not her fault. Amorette had pleaded with the King to make some form of offering to the Spanish to persuade them to release the two youngest Lenoir children, but she hadn't bargained for the backlash to be directed at her. She also hadn't anticipated that the King would decide to release significant Spanish prisoners in return for the two children.

The prisoners had been held just inside the border and were released back into Spanish hands as the Lenoir children were delivered onto French soil. Only the King's closest advisors had been privy to the knowledge of the exchange, but that hadn't stopped people creating a scapegoat of Amorette. Secretly Amorette supposed that the Queen must not have known what the King had decided to do either, but it didn't stop people blaming her for it. A decision she had no part in whatsoever was currently the reason she was being ostracized. With Buckingham out of town on business she was left with only Claude and Constance for company.

Amorette had braved the streets on the crisp, fresh Sunday afternoon partly because she couldn't face another day locked away and also because it was more than likely that the streets would be quieter. The market in Les Halles was closed as were many others and the walk to her destination across the river was relatively undisturbed. There were a few whispers and stares, but as she had suspected, there were not many people on the streets. The walk back though, was another story altogether. After a quick visit to Buckingham's old lodgings she made her way along the Boulevard Saint-Germain towards a little bookshop that she had been meaning to visit since she had returned to the city. The streets seemed a little more crowded as she made her way there but Amorette forced herself to carry on and decided to take a chance in the shop being open. Almost every moment the thought of forgetting the bookshop and scuttling back across the bridge crossed her mind but she resolved not to let anything sway her.

The solace of the bookshop had Amorette wishing that she could stay there all afternoon. She trawled the cavernous shelves looking for nothing in particular for over an hour before selecting a book. When she ventured back out onto the street again, it was to find that it was far busier than she expected. Almost immediately the stares were present, and the whispers and even a few catcalls from braver souls. When the rotten fruit was thrown, Amorette's resolve wavered and she hurried her pace a little. She pulled the brim of her hat a little lower as she caught sight of the Pont Neuf in the distance and briskly walked in its direction. Her focus only on the bridge ahead of her, she didn't see the four musketeers that stood talking on a street corner, and she also missed the stone that was hurled her way. Amorette was only made aware of it when it glanced off the hardback of the book she clutched to her chest. She looked up just in time to jerk her head to the right as a far larger stone just missed her face and slammed into the wall behind her.

"Someone's going to get hurt here," growled Porthos as he took a few steps forward. The four musketeers watched as a large man deliberately barrelled into Amorette. On impact she dropped her book but was apprehensive to bend to pick it up. She didn't know how she had managed to stay standing and was sure if she gave the book on the ground her attention, she would be knocked over again. Instead she took a few steps back from the book and the man that had tried to knock her off her feet. Just as she turned to walk in the opposite direction though, D'artagnan stepped in-between them with a growl. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" He snarled at the man and he was forced to move on. From the ground D'artagnan picked up Amorette's book and handed it to her, but before he could offer any more help, Jerome Weston appeared out of nowhere.

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