Promised to the Crown by Aimie K. Runyan

knelt before his bride, taking her hands in his.
    â€œMademoiselle Deschamps . . . my dear Nicole, if I may. I promise I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”
    He placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles.
    Nicole gazed into his eyes and saw no malice, just goodness of heart and kindness of spirit. She knew his promise was sincere and hoped she would manage to do the same for him. He would endeavor to take care of her. Perhaps even come to love her, someday. No one in her acquaintance could boast of any more.

C HAPTER 7
    Elisabeth
    April 1668
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    T he smell of yeast, flour, water, and salt transforming into the staff of life never left the timbers of the Beaumont Bakery. Elisabeth rested her swollen ankles while the last loaves of bread rose in the oven. Five months pregnant, she was already bulging and uncomfortable. Little Pierre or Adèle was expected in late summer, much to the expectant parents’ delight.
    Though she tired easily, Elisabeth refused to give up her duties in the bakery. She trained Gilbert that arguing was futile, and she guessed that he went along in order to obtain a stronger position for the later months of her pregnancy, when he would have to insist that she rest.
    â€œThank you,” Gilbert said when he saw his wife using the chair he had placed near the oven for her.
    â€œMy pleasure.” Elisabeth offered a fatigued smile as she kneaded dough from her seat. “I think this baby of ours may turn out to be a giant.”
    â€œJust big and strong, sweetheart,” Gilbert said as he stroked Elisabeth’s fair hair.
    She returned the caress, and, since there was no one visible through the window, offered him a less-than-chaste kiss.
    â€œI hope so, too. I love you, Gilbert.”
    â€œAffectionate today,” he said, taking another kiss while there was peace. “Not that I’m complaining.”
    â€œCareful now,” she said, seeing the shadow of movement outside. “No need to expose ourselves to public ridicule.”
    â€œNothing more ridiculous than loving one’s wife.” He smeared flour on her nose with a boyish grin as he turned to the opening door.
    â€œGood afternoon, Monsieur Levoisier. What can we get for you today?”
    Elisabeth smirked at her husband’s buoyant greeting from behind her hand as she wiped her nose.
    â€œGood afternoon, Monsieur and Madame Beaumont,” Levoisier said. “Nothing today, but I have a letter for Madame Beaumont that came in on the ship last Tuesday. From France.”
    Levoisier produced the letter with a self-satisfied smile. Had they not known his kindly nature, they might have thought him a tad too pompous. In truth, he was proud to spread happiness by bringing news to people separated from their families.
    Gilbert thanked him with a few coins and a bun.
    Elisabeth longed to be able to read the letter herself, but handed it to her husband.

    To Elisabeth Martin, New France:
    I am ashamed that any child of mine, raised with care and devotion, would so easily disregard my wishes. M. Delacroix told me of your departure a week after you set to sea, far too late for me to intervene. I was a fool to ever permit your association with that family. I was wrought with worry until he told me of your whereabouts, and then I find that you heartlessly abandoned me. You destroyed any chance for an alliance with the Moraud family. I am now forced to live as an impoverished dowager aunt with my brother Roland and his family. The embarrassment is too much to bear.
    You are an ungrateful child, and solely responsible for my current state. I cannot believe that you are so quick to forget all I have done for you. I will never speak your name again. It is just as well a vast ocean separates us, as I no longer have a daughter.
    Anne Martin, as dictated to Roland Clément

    â€œPay it no mind, sweetheart,” Gilbert said, handing Elisabeth the letter.
    Knowing her husband as she did,