Marguerite, the former Duchess of Torrinni, receives two letters that will change the course of her life forever; and that will impact young Céleste Richel's life too, in more ways than one.
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When Marguerite is forced to return to Torrinni cour...
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Antoine's old brown travel cloak flapped as he trod back and forth on the hay-covered ground. He glared at his feet, squishing his tricorn hat in one hand, his other bunching and unbunching at his side.
Marguerite kept her distance. They'd gotten too close the night before, and the sensations he'd provoked still tingled her extremities.
"Will that rouse you to do something?"
"I cannot say." His breaths were labored, but he didn't quit pacing. "The Giromian involvement is all linked to Mother, but I am uncertain that is proof enough to send her off. The law part... I am afraid we must wait and see if she has a role in invoking it. That would be concrete proof."
Marguerite huffed. "So you would wait until she pulls another stunt? Until she threatens your God-given position? You would allow things to get that far?"
"What choice do I have?" He gazed at the ceiling. "I must give her the benefit of the doubt. Accusing her outright of wanting to interfere in my life, remove me from my throne, set someone else in my place? It is audaciousto state this without absolute proof, no matter how convinced you are."
"You are not convinced?" She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him; maybe slap him. Yet she smelled his crisp musk and had to refrain from letting it draw her close, from hypnotizing her senses. "Your love for her blinds you. She has a history of making deals behind your back—you said so yourself! She coerced you into believing your father's wishes were for you to marry Adelaide, not me. Then she allows Giromians in without your explicit consent? Do you not consider her capable of plotting to take what is yours, so that she may retain some authority?"
Antoine threw his hat to the ground. It bounced off a pile of fodder and landed between where he paced and where Marguerite stood, stiff and suspicious.
"She has complained about me being heir-less for years, but why does it matter?"
"She wants to secure her legacy." Marguerite squinted at him, shocked he didn't grasp his mother's intentions. "Ensuring her bloodline continues is essential."
He shielded his face with his hands. "There are too many coincidences. I should have known, seen it."
A force drove into Marguerite's legs, like a gust of wind seeking to send her closer to Antoine; but she resisted, wincing, gritting her teeth. "She is sly. Always has been. She has fooled everyone, including you. You needed a knowledgeable advisor, someone who would see through her plots, but you have none. And she took advantage of that."
Far be it from her to pity him, despite all he did; but the more they talked, the more she realized hehadn't made all the decisions that broke them apart.
Clémentine is responsible for it all.
"I do have advisors, and good ones." He growled. "Yet no one saw Mother's intention to keep her spot on the dais, to continue using her influence for what she saw fit. She wants someone on the throne she can manipulate. She wants... one of my brothers? Is that what you think?"
