Amour: Historical Romance (Passion and Glory Book 1) by Samantha Kaye

less expensive than what his future father-in-law wore, though only a very discerning eye would have guessed it. Jeweled rings adorned several fingers on each hand, reflecting the comte’s preference for large showy diamonds. The comte’s eyes were brown and full of mirth, brimming with the self-confidence his ancient lineage and the enormous size of his future inheritance, bequeathed him.
    Francis looked toward his father for tacit approval to kiss his bride to be. The marquis gave his consent with a slight nod of the head. Leaning forward, the comte bestowed a gentle chaste kiss upon the lips of his fiancée as the table broke out in spontaneous applause. If the comte had felt any reticence at the sudden and somewhat unexpected alliance his father had earlier concluded and the baron had just announced, it was substantially lessened by the pleasure derived from a quick glance toward the décolletage of his bride-to-be’s gown. It confirmed undeniably, that he was a fortunate man and soon to be even more so. Julienne caught the direction of the comte’s gaze and smiled back at him without embarrassment.
    The marquis offered his congratulations next, followed by Julienne’s seven-year-old sister, Éléonore, who hugged her sister twice, then pulled on her arm so that Julienne would bend down to be kissed on the lips.
    “Look, my dear, at how excited your sister is to have the prospect of a wedding to attend. But where, pray tell, is my niece?”
    The blank stare on the part of Madame de Salvagnac told the baron all he needed to know. He snapped his fingers, a signal which called one of his enslaved servants to his side.
    “Have my niece found and fetched here at once!”
    The baron was not a man often irritated, but the absence of the Vicomtesse de La Bouhaire, from such an important family event was the sole blight upon his moment of triumph—one he meant to remedy at once.
    The Marquis de Blaise turned toward the baron. “How unfortunate, Monsieur de Salvagnac, that both of our children should have missed the announcement.”
    The remark was an unwelcome reminder to the baronne of the sole mark on her banner of triumph. The Chevalier d’Argentolle was a great black mole, an ugly uncoverable blemish which spoiled the otherwise flawless white make-up of the Montferraud. She had done her best to hide and overlook the spot, even banishing the boy to the east wing while the rest of his family had been welcomed and entertained in style, but there was only so much that could be done. The chevalier’s presence in her house had only been tolerated at all, because it had been the single method possible to secure the company of the marquis and the comte. But at least after tonight neither she nor her family would be forced to bear the chevalier’s presence again.
    The servants fanned out to begin their search, unaware that the vicomtesse was in fact quite close. She had followed the service corridor to the kitchens, arriving just as the baron had begun his speech. The vicomtesse knew all the best places of concealment in the château. She had hidden herself and Nicolas behind a paneled screen not far from the entrance to the dining room, preferring to hear what her uncle had to say before joining the rest of the company. The pair of fugitives had enjoyed a perfectly concealed view of the baron’s announcement and now observed the happy aftermath.
    Sérolène squeezed Nicolas’ hand with affection, quietly pointing out to him the members of her family with whom he was not yet acquainted. “My uncle summons me, Monsieur d’Argentolle. Would you be so kind as to escort me to the souper ?”
    “Of course, Mademoiselle. If we must. But I shall regret not having you all to myself. It’s been the most wonderful time of my life.”
    “I suppose we must go before we are discovered,” Sérolène said.
    She didn’t want to go either. Staying with Nicolas would have been a far more preferable circumstance to joining her family