Barbara Cartland - Love Me Forever

“That is what I would like to discover and that is what we must find out. We shall doubtless then know who you are and why the Cardinal himself should take so much interest in you.”

Amé sighed.

“I wish they were not so interested,” she sighed. “Do you think the Priest and Captain were suspicious?”

“We cannot tell,” the Duke replied.

“I am sure you sent them away quite unsuspecting,” Amé said admiringly. “I am sure you were too clever for them.”

“I hope so, but I have not had any great experience of subterfuge of this sort.”

“That is why I am sure that you will do it so well,” Amé replied. “No one would suspect you. What is more, no one would think for one moment that you would befriend an unknown and penniless girl. Why indeed should you bother with me?”

She made a little gesture with her hand, her eyes were very innocent.

The Duke glanced at her for a moment and then looked away.

“I have asked myself the same question.”

“And what was the answer, Your Grace?”

“I told myself that I have always had a dislike of seeing powerful forces crush something that is weak and defenceless,” the Duke replied.

“Yes, of course, that is exactly what you would think,” Amé said.

There was a note of disappointment in her voice. Suddenly she moved from the seat opposite the Duke to the place beside him.

“I want to sit next to you,” she said. “It will not take us long to reach Paris and then we shall go to your house there. What is it like? Who will be there? Tell me all about it.”

“I am as ignorant as you. I sent my cousin, Hugo Waltham, who looks after all my affairs, ahead to prepare everything for me. You can be certain he will have chosen exactly the right environment for an English Duke in search of pleasure and amusement.”

“Is that why you are going to Paris?” Amé asked.

“Yes, of course,” the Duke replied. “Now the War is over I want to enjoy the gayest Capital in Europe. I want to see the beautiful women of whom one has heard so much. La Princesse de Polignac, La Comtesse d’Artois, La Princesse de Guémenée, and others of whose charms even London talks.”

“And seeing these beautiful women will make you happy?” Amé asked in a small voice.

“I did not say it would make me happy,” the Duke replied. “I said it would amuse me.”

“Oh!” There was a little pause and then after a moment Amé said in a low voice, “It would be so nice if, when we got to Paris, I could be a woman again.”

“Are you tired of your breeches already?”

“Not exactly tired of them,” Amé replied, “but I should like to look pretty. I have never had a pretty dress in the whole of my life.”

“We must see what we can do about it,” the Duke nodded.

Amé turned eagerly to him.

“Will you give me dresses in which I will look attractive and in which I too can try to amuse you?”

There was something in the candid innocence of her eyes and the breathlessness of her question that made the Duke feel suddenly angry.

“I promise you nothing,” he answered. “You must remember that I did not wish to become involved in this adventure of yours. As it happens, I have other things to do. It will do me no good at this particular moment to quarrel with the Cardinal. With this in mind we must be circumspect. We must take the greatest care.”

He felt, even as he spoke, as though he had slapped in the face a child unable to defend herself.

He felt Amé shrink away from him and then suddenly in a voice that was pathetic and young, she said,

“If you really think that I shall do you harm just by being with you, then I will go away. You can drop me at the outskirts of Paris. I will fend for myself, just as I meant to do when I left the Convent. Whatever may happen to me, I would not wish to harm you.”

“Now you are talking nonsense again,” the Duke answered.

“I will leave you,” Amé went on with a little sob. “You have been so kind to me already that I cannot ask for more.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous, child,” the Duke exclaimed and then he stopped as he saw the tears in Amé’s eyes.

Big and shining, they overflowed beneath her dark lashes and ran down her cheeks, which had suddenly paled.

“You are not going to leave me, not if I can possibly help it,” he said, unexpectedly even to himself.

“Do you mean that?”

Amé’s smile was like the sunshine coming through an April shower.

“I always say what I mean.”

“ Merci , merci, Monseigneur , thank you! Thank you !”

Amé bent her head suddenly and the Duke felt her lips against his hand.

For a moment he was very still and then he took his hand away and laid it on Amé’s shoulder.

“You upset yourself unnecessarily.”

Amé gave a little gasp.

“For a moment,” she murmured, “I thought I had lost you.”

“I think,” the Duke said with a smile that twisted his lips cynically, “it would be difficult for either of us to lose each other at the moment.”

He had hardly spoken when there was a shout outside and the coach drew up with a jerk.

Both Amé and the Duke turned to look through the window. They saw a number of men on horses circling around the coach. They heard commands shouted out and, as Amé put out her hand in sudden terror towards the Duke, the door was flung open and a man stood there.

“What is the meaning of this outrage?” the Duke thundered.

The man swept his hat from his head and it was with a sense of relief that the Duke saw that he wore, not the uniform of the Cardinal, but a very different livery of red, white and blue with a design of three fleurs-de-lis upon the breast.

“Your pardon, Monseigneur ,” the man said, “but my Master invites Your Grace to visit him. He heard but a short while ago that you were on the road, otherwise a message would have been sent to the inn where you passed the night. It is not many kilometres to my Master’s Château and he asks that you will accompany us there so that he may proffer you his hospitality.”

“Who is your Master?” the Duke enquired.

“My instructions are to remain silent until you meet each other in person,” the man replied.

“Then, as I do not know your Master’s name, I cannot accept his offer. Convey my apologies and say that I have urgent affairs that require my presence in Paris.”

“I regret, Your Grace, my Master’s instructions were quite explicit. He wishes you to avail yourself of his hospitality and we are here to take you to him.”

There was no mistaking the threat underlying all the formal politeness. There was no mistaking either the gesture that the man accompanied the words with. It embraced some thirty men or more, all astride fine-looking horseflesh and all carrying pistols stuck into the sashes that they wore round their waists.

The Duke knew that any resistance was quite useless.

There were but nine of them counting himself, the coachmen, footman, postilions and outriders. Without looking down the road they had already travelled, he knew only too well that the rest of his household would be far behind.

Quickly he made up his mind. In this instance there was nothing to do but to surrender.

“You may lead me to your Master,” he said.

The man bowed and then the coach door was dosed. Through the window the Duke and Amé saw him spring onto his horse and give an order as he rode ahead. The coach started forward. The escort surrounded it. The Duke was suddenly aware that Amé was clinging onto his arm and, as they moved, she gave a little cry.

“I am frightened,” she whispered. “Is this all because of me?”