Free The Lady of Secrets by Susan Carroll Page A

tried to retreat deeper into the shadows of the barn, but Meg caught hold of her arm.
    “Gerard loves you as much as you do him.”
    Seraphine shook her off. “Don’t be a romantic fool, Meg. Marriage has nothing to do with love, especially among noble families. It is a purely mercenary arrangement, a matter of trade. The man barters his title and estates for a woman’s dowry and the use of her womb.”
    “That was not the way of it for you, ’Phine, and you know it.”
    “So I was a starry-eyed little fool when I first met Gerard. I’ll thank you not to remind me.”
    “Someone needs to,” Meg began, but Seraphine interrupted her harshly.
    “Stop, Meg. Just … stop. Even if I admit I once felt something for Gerard, that is ended. He took my son, sent my little François to be a page in the household of his good friend, the marquis. And now my boy is dead.”
    “It was an outbreak of the pox, which can strike anywhere. Gerard could not have anticipated such a thing. He was as torn with grief as you.”
    Seraphine shook her head in angry denial. “François would still be alive if I had been able to keep him at home with me as I wished.”
    “But is it not the custom among noble families to send sons away to be fostered?”
    “Oh, yes.” Seraphine’s mouth curved bitterly. “To give the boy a proper education, prepare him to take his place in the world, make important and valuable connections. When did Gerard ever care about anything like that?
    “If the man had ever had any ambitions, he could have gone to Paris and found a place at court. My husband is a clever man and he is of the right religion to curry favor with the king, unlike my own poor father.”
    It was another source of great bitterness to Seraphine. Her father, Captain Nicolas Remy, had served the king for years, long before His Majesty had become Henry IV of France. Captain Remy had fought for Henry when he had been merely the king of the small principality of Navarre, the stronghold of the new religion, the Huguenot faith.
    But when Henry had been offered the chance to ascend the throne of France, he had seized it, even if it meant abandoning the faith of his loyal Huguenot subjects. “Paris is worth a mass,” the king had declared after his witty fashion.
    “The king betrayed my father by abandoning our religion,” Seraphine said. “And I betrayed Papa as well when I wed a Catholic.”
    “I do not believe your father ever felt that way,” Meg replied. From what she had seen of Captain Remy, the man was honorable to his core, true to his country and the faith heespoused, but he was in many ways like his king, a moderate man, no religious zealot.
    In her youth, Seraphine had been far more fierce in her defense of the new religion. It had been a testament to her great love for Gerard that she had surrendered her beliefs to become a Catholic. Seraphine seldom ceded anything to anyone.
    “Your father has always admired and respected Gerard. As did you,” Meg reminded Seraphine.
    “That was when I thought we shared the same dreams and ambitions. As a woman, I knew I could never achieve anything of significance. But I could have helped Gerard become important and powerful, the kind of man who could make his mark on the world.
    “But Monsieur le Comte has never cared for anything but living quietly in the country, tending to his estate, work that a reliable steward could have done. Gerard might as well have been some peasant farmer for all he cares of what goes on in France beyond his own acres.
    “I saw something different in my son. As young as he was, there was a spark of greatness in François. But now he is gone and I am even more to blame than Gerard. If I had ever troubled to learn as much of the healing arts as I did swordplay—” Seraphine bit down on her lip, her eyes filling with tears.
    But she refused to shed a single one. Meg wondered if Seraphine had ever allowed herself to truly weep for the loss of her son. Knowing