Love Me Forever Read online

  The two men turned towards the door and, only as they reached it, did the Priest turn back.

  “I understand from the Proprietor here that one of your pages left for England this morning. Was there any particular reason for his return?”

  “He was ill,” the Duke replied. “My Major Domo asked my permission to send him back, as the boy was obviously sickly. ’Tis curst inconvenient as I like always to have two pages in attendance upon me. Now I have but one, who will doubtless find the exertion of all that he has to do far too much for him. I repeat, ’tis curst inconvenient.”

  “Your Grace will accept our sympathies,” the Priest said suavely.

  He bowed and the door closed behind him and the Captain. For a moment the Duke did not move, then he slipped his snuffbox back into his pocket and moved to the window.

  He saw them cross the courtyard, the Priest in his black robes and broad-brimmed hat, the Captain of the Guard as colourful as one of the cocks strutting about on a dung-heap.

  They were out of sight in a few seconds, but the Duke still waited.

  There was the sound of horses’ hoofs and a moment later there passed down the road a guard of six men in the Cardinal’s livery with the Priest perched amongst them like a black crow.

  Seven men in search of one runaway girl!

  A soft voice at his elbow awoke the Duke from his reverie.

  “What did they say? What did they want?”

  Amé was standing there, her hair powdered by the skilful hands of Dalton. It made her look, if possible, even lovelier. It showed up the clear transparency of her skin. It made her eyes glow more vividly than they had done before.

  “We leave immediately,” the Duke replied sharply after a quick glance at her. “There is no time for talk. We must get away. Is the coach ready?”

  “Yes, everything is ready,” Amé answered. “The baggage went downstairs some time ago and the bill has been paid. The Proprietor is wreathed in smiles and bowing himself nearly double, so his pourboire must have been a good one.”

  “Come at once,” the Duke ordered.

  He picked up his cloak from the chair and swung it over his shoulders.

  Then he glanced at Amé who was watching him.

  “You should hand me my hat and gloves,” he said correctively. “And outside be sure you help me into the coach with the right degree of deference, you never know who might be watching.”

  There was something in his voice that told her that what he said was of importance. Soberly she picked up his hat and gloves and handed them to him and then followed him from the room down the passage.

  The coach had drawn up at the main door of the inn, a footman in blue and silver livery held the door open. Amé sprang forward and lifted her arm so that the Duke might rest his fingers on it as slowly and with great dignity he walked up the red-carpeted steps.

  Inside he seated himself on the soft seat facing the horses. The footman arranged a rug over his knees. When he was comfortable, Amé climbed the steps.

  At a glance from the Duke she sat opposite him on the smaller seat. The door was closed, the coach began to move and the horses pulled out of the yard.

  As they did so, the Duke bent forward a little as if to see if the postilions were following. As he glanced at them, he saw something else, a man standing in the shadow of the stable doors, a man in a black cassock and wide-brimmed hat.

  The Duke said nothing to Amé but examined her more critically than he had done when she came to show herself to him as he was finishing breakfast.

  ‘Was her disguise good enough?’ he asked himself.

  She certainly made an extremely pretty boy and yet he decided that she might pass muster, at least where there were those who were not suspicious in the first place that she might be anything else. She was the same height as Adrian Court, his clothes fitted her well and gave slightly more breadth to her shoulders.

  But boys of fifteen are not as a rule very prepossessing and the Duke saw that there were undoubtedly dangers ahead in this masquerade into which he had entered because Amé had been so persuasive but about which he now had very grave doubts.

  And yet the more he thought of the Cardinal, the more determined he was to outwit him. At that moment the Duke of Melyncourt was more concerned not so much with helping a forlorn young woman but in a chase in which for the first time in his life he was on the side of and in the role of the hunted.

  “Tell me what those men said to you, Monseigneur,” Amé said as they were free of the village of Chantilly and were proceeding at a good pace down a road that was bordered by thick woodland.

  The Duke told her what had happened.

  “The Priest was one of those who came to see me at the Convent,” Amé told him. “I saw him from the bedroom window. I have never seen the man in purple uniform before.”

  “He is the Captain of the Cardinal’s Guard,” the Duke explained.

  “The Cardinal!” Amé gave a little cry. “Then the Cardinal knows I have run away! How could he know that?”

  “I have no idea. They must have sent a message to him last night. At what time would they be likely to find that you had gone?”

  “I did not expect them to discover it till this morning,” Amé said. “There was, however, always a chance that the Mistress of the Novices would look in to see that we were safely in our rooms. That must have been it, of course. Sister Marie is very sweet, but old and rather fussy. There is a grid in every door through which the Mistress of the Novices can look and see if we are asleep. Sometimes if one is restless or awake, she will come in to bring a glass of water and say a prayer.

  “Last night Sister Marie must have looked to see if I was there. Perhaps the Reverend Mother had told her to do so because she thought btat I might be worried about what had happened.”

  “When she found you had gone, what would happen next?”

  “Sister Marie would go at once to the Reverend Mother. Some of the other nuns might not have been so perturbed. They would think we were talking in each other’s rooms. It is forbidden after lights out, but often we disobey. Sister Marie is, as I have told you, very particular. She would have gone and told the Reverend Mother when she saw that my bed had not been slept in. Then they would all begin to look for me.”

  “By ‘all’ you mean the nuns?” the Duke asked.

  “Yes, of course. Some would be awakened. They would get up and look for me in the bedrooms, in the Cloisters and in the garden.”

  “And when they did not find you, they would send a message to the Cardinal?”

  “I don’t understand that. It would be unlike the Reverend Mother to send for the Cardinal until she had given me time to return or made every possible enquiry for herself. I cannot comprehend – mais oui!”

  Amé gave a sudden exclamation.

  “Je suis imbecile! The Priests only came yesterday. They would have stayed the night with Father Pierre in the Presbytery. Always when Priests come and we sometimes have special Priests in Lent and at Christmastime and they stay with Father Pierre.”

  “Well, that explains that,” the Duke said. “The Reverend Mother told the Priests that you had disappeared. A messenger must have ridden through the night to inform the Cardinal, who sent back a bodyguard to assist in the search.”

  “What I cannot understand,” Amé queried, “is why they should worry so much about me. Why does the Cardinal want me to take my vows so quickly and, if I am missing, why does it matter?”

  “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?”

  “I don’t know,” the Duke said grimly.

  Amé’s fingers, small and fluttering, came to rest against his palm.

  “It must be my fault,” she said miserably. “You should have refused to take me with you. You should have put me out on the road once you had discovered me beneath the rugs.”

  “Would you have gone?” the Duke asked.

  She heard the sudden lightness in his tone. She looked up amazed to see that his eyes were shining. He looked down then at her astonished face and he laughed, the gayest laugh she had heard for some time.

  “We are in the middle of a great adventure,” he said, “the sort of adventure that I thought had gone out of fashion when I was a boy. Yes, this is an adventure, Am
é, and damn it all, I am going to enjoy myself.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Château was impressive, surrounded on three sides by thick dark woods. Its turrets and towers seemed to have an almost unreal air as they glittered silver in the sunshine and were reflected on the smooth surface of a large artificial lake.

  They crossed the lake over a series of bridges cunningly designed to give an illusion of fragility. But there was no illusion about the guard who stood at the entrance to the Château or about their muskets and pistols.

  The Duke’s eyes noted everything and then calmly and in an unhurried voice he said to Amé,

  “Be careful to be as unobtrusive as possible here. Keep behind me while we are received, say as little as possible and make no movement unless I personally command you to do so.”

  He glanced down at her as he finished speaking.

  “Are you frightened?” he asked.

  He liked the way she raised her head and the sudden flash of pride in her eyes as she replied,

  “Not while I am with you, Your Grace.”

  There was no time to say more. The guard on the stone steps leading up to the front door of the Château came to attention, the door of the coach was opened and the Duke stepped out.

  He glanced neither to right nor to left but walked slowly and with a tremendous dignity up the steps and in through the open doors of the Château.

  A Major Domo at the head of a long line of footmen wearing a red, white and blue livery bowed and led the way down a long corridor decorated with valuable pieces of furniture and hung with a fine collection of oil paintings.

  The Major Domo crossed the hall and flung open two large mahogany doors on the further side of it.

  “His Grace, the Duke of Melyncourt,” he announced.

  The Duke had an impression of a large salon bathed in bright sunshine. There was the sparkle of crystal chandeliers, the glisten of many gilt mirrors, the luxuriance of brocade and velvet and, by an open window, a small group of people.

  For a moment it seemed that they were all strangers and then one man detached himself from the others and came towards him, a tall ponderous figure, exquisitely dressed and bejewelled, his heavy florid face alight with a smile in which there was both amusement and a hint of malice.