The Gilded Crown by Catherine A. Wilson Page B

nature as she passed one of her pets. ‘They’re called Papillon and they are a gift from my step-grandson to keep me company.’
    The door squeaked open. ‘Mama?’
    Blanche looked up and beckoned in her daughter. ‘Jeanne, come, come child. I hope you do not mind,’ she commented to her guests, ‘we are far less formal here than at court.’
    The young girl, no more than ten years of age, sidled up to the chair and shyly placed a finger in her mouth. The dusky-rose of her cheeks was far too vivid for the pastiness of her complexion but her large eyes were pretty. She patted the dog resting on her mother’s lap. ‘François says it is time to feed the puppies.’
    â€˜Then feed them, we must, dear.’ Blanche hugged her daughter, then relinquished the puppy. Two more Papillon danced at the girl’s feet.
    With a warm smile for the affection she saw displayed, Cécile handed over the fourth dog. Jeanne bobbed a clumsy curtsey, then scuttled from the room, her wispy hair floating across her shoulders and the canines nipping at her hem as they ran beside her.
    â€˜She is lovely,’ commented Cécile, disturbed as she heard the girl cough her way down the hall.
    â€˜Jeanne is not always strong.’ Blanche sighed sadly. ‘So I keep her close. She is all I have of Philippe, God rest his soul. But there are times when I fear she will see him before me. And then I worry. Philippe never even knew he became a father. How would he recognise her in Heaven?’
    â€˜The angels would know, Madame,’ said Gillet, gently, ‘and they would guide her to him.’
    â€˜Thank you, Monsieur. You are very kind. But enough of my ramblings,’ she protested, ‘I think we should move into supper. Cécile, do you keep any pets?’
    â€˜Two cats, Madame,’ said Cécile as they all rose from the chairs.
    â€˜Safely at home,’ added Gillet, holding out his arm to her. He fell into step behind the Dowager Queen, failing to notice the sudden flush to his wife’s cheeks as she placed her hand upon his sleeve.
    â€˜I did inform you, Lord de Bellegarde, that my step-grandson will be joining us, yes?’ asked Blanche.
    â€˜Yes, Madame, you did.’
    â€˜He wishes to speak with you on a matter most urgent. As you know, your wife’s father, Comte d’Armagnac, recently called here on his way to your nuptials. He and I are old friends. The Comte insisted that you, Lord de Bellegarde, could be of enormous assistance in locating a certain gentleman for whom the Duc is searching. Your co-operation in this matter will greatly serve the Crown.’
    â€˜I am yours, Madame, and the Duc’s, to command at will,’ acknowledged Gillet. ‘Might I inquire as to whom he seeks?’
    The Vicomtesse turned to face them. Her answer made Cécile blench. ‘A Lord Ghillebert d’Albret. Comte d’Armagnac intimated the two of you were well known to one another.’
    Gillet inclined his head and answered smoothly. ‘Indeed, we are, Madame.’

    Seated within the warm, intimate setting of the solar, Cécile forgot her brief panic and relaxed. The servant held out the bowl of scented water so she could dip her fingers, his heel indiscriminately hoofing the puppy gnawing at his ankle. The four little dogs followed him out, yapping excitedly, as maids filled the table with dishes of various vegetables, jugs of gravy and platters of thickly-sliced game. The aroma was delicious and despite earlier misgivings for her appetite, Cécile’s stomach growled in anticipation.
    Blanche d’Évreux smiled with affection. ‘Ah, here he is.’
    Cécile glanced up to see the unmistakable ‘Valois’ profile of Jean de Berri stoop to kiss his step-grandmother’s cheek, the relationship odd for the fact that their ages differed by only nine summers. They appeared more like brother and matronly sister