Free By Honor Bound by Helen A Rosburg

your attentions and innuendoes are repugnant to me. I would rather die a slow and painful death than even consider, for one moment, marriage with you.”
    She watched his face redden, darkening his already bad complexion. A vein in his temple visibly throbbed. She gave him a cold, hard smile and turned on her heel. The sputtering sound he made gave her a measure of satisfaction, though she knew it would be worse for her next time.
    Come home, Philippe , she silently prayed. Please come home soon.

    Jeanne Mansart fussed over Madame Dupin’s breakfast tray. When it met her rigid standards, she nodded to Honneure. “You’ll have to hurry so it doesn’t get too cold. The corridors are icy this morning.”
    “Icier than you know,” Honneure mumbled in reply. She picked up the tray and left the kitchen.
    Jeanne and Paul watched her, concern etched into each of their expressions. Jeanne spoke first.
    “It seems she grows thinner by the day.”
    Paul pulled at his chin with a large, roughened hand. “It’s bad enough how deeply she misses Philippe. But Claud’s advances are becoming burdensome to her as well.”
    “Claud. I can’t understand what Madame sees in him.”
    “He’s made himself invaluable to her.”
    “He’s wormed his way into her affections because he’s slimy. Not because he’s particularly talented. Worse, she thinks so highly of him she’s actually pleaded his case with me for Honneure’s hand.”
    Paul’s bushy brows lifted. “I didn’t know. How did you reply?”
    “Not as I wished to, you can be sure. I simply said I didn’t think Honneure would be agreeable to the proposal.”
    “What are we going to do, Mother?” Paul said. “I can’t stand to watch her grow more unhappy by the day. She was the sunshine in our lives. Now it’s gone.”
    Jeanne glanced sideways at her husband. “Well …”
    “You’ve done something already, haven’t you?”
    “I … I wrote to Philippe.”
    “Jeanne—”
    “I know, I know. Being offered a position at the royal stables is a dream come true for him.” Jeanne smiled to herself as she recalled that first letter from Philippe. She had expected to see her son, for he was due to return. But a royal messenger had called instead, bearing Philippe’s missive. In it he informed them that the princess in particular loved the new horses and was impressed with their training. She had asked Philippe almost at once to stay on permanently to care for the animals. Though he had been loath to leave his family, it was an opportunity he simply could not ignore.
    “But don’t worry, Paul,” Jeanne continued. “I didn’t ask Philippe to come home. I would never do that. So I …”
    “You what?” Paul prompted.
    “I … I asked Philippe to ask the princess to find a place for Honneure at Court,” she said quickly.
    “Jeanne Mansart!” After more than a quarter of a century, Paul knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but this was definitely one of his wife’s bolder and more dramatic moves. She would do anything for her children, but this … “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a position at Court?”
    Jeanne shrugged and returned her attention to a lump of dough she had been kneading. “Can’t hurt to ask.”
    “Lord, woman. You never cease to amaze me.”
    “I know. It’s one of the reasons you love me so much.” Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her husband turn away. Paul was right. Probably nothing would come of her request because nothing could come of it. Yet if there was any way at all to bring Honneure to Versailles, Philippe would find it. She knew how much he loved and missed Honneure.
    And unlike her husband, she knew much more than that.

    It was so warm in the stables Philippe had begun to sweat beneath his woolen livery. The heaters for the pampered horses were all operating at maximum. He could hardly wait to drive out into the snowy morning. With nimble fingers he hurried to fix the white mare’s harness to the