Lion of Languedoc by Margaret Pemberton

powerful king in Christendom.
    He said none of this to Marietta, merely saying a curt ‘no’ and continuing to ride, wondering if he would make Chatonnay by nightfall. In another few hours Elise would be in his arms. Six long years of waiting would be over…
    â€˜Is it true that Madame de Montespan has replaced La Vallière in the King’s affections?’
    Léon’s eyes darkened. ‘What do you know of La Vallière or Madame de Montespan?’
    Marietta was pleased at having taken him aback with her knowledge.
    â€˜News of the King’s loves reaches even into the countryside.’
    â€˜Not to Evray it doesn’t,’ Léon said grimly, reining in his horse and catching hold of her reins also. ‘Madame de Montespan’s name is still not known outside court. Who spoke to you of her?’
    Marietta was beginning to regret her careless words. His face was formidable when he was angry. The lines from nose to mouth that deepened so beguilingly in laughter were now harsh and uncompromising.
    She said nervously, ‘I don’t remember. It was just gossip.’
    â€˜Don’t play me for a fool.’ A strong brown hand grasped hers so tightly that she cried out in pain. ‘ How do you come to know so much about the happenings at court?’
    Marietta’s temporary feeling of goodwill towards him vanished.
    â€˜I told you before, but you chose not to believe me! I’m not just a simple peasant girl. I’m a Riccardi!’
    â€˜And do the Riccardis go to court?’ Léon asked mockingly, his eyes lingering on her tattered dress.
    Marietta would have slapped his face if her hand had been free and knowing it Léon’s grasp tightened still further. ‘ No!’ She spat at him. ‘The court comes to the Riccardis!’
    He laughed mirthlessly. ‘ You mean the man who searches for you?’
    â€˜He and others!’
    Léon let go of her wrist, flinging it away from him. ‘Then if they did it was to no good purpose!’
    â€˜None at all,’ Marietta agreed, her eyes flashing. ‘My grandmother never gave anyone anything that would cause harm.’
    â€˜And do you expect me to believe that noblemen from the court of Louis XIV travelled to Evray?’ he asked, a contemptuous smile twisting his mouth.
    â€˜Not Evray. Paris. We lived in the shadow of the Pont-Neuf, near the rue Beauregard.’
    Léon’s eyebrows drew together sharply. He had heard of a woman in the rue Beauregard, a sybil all Paris flocked to hear. Not Marietta’s grandmother, certainly, for La Voisin was no old woman trying to reach her birthplace and being killed in the attempt. And not Marietta, for Marietta was too young. Léon knew instinctively that she was incapable of the sort of evil attributed to the name of La Voisin. But if the girl and her grandmother had lived so near the rue Beauregard, it would explain her free use of the names of the King’s mistresses, and perhaps a lot more.
    The sun was sinking, the sky a blaze of gold streaked with silver clouds. In the distance were the steep roofs and high walls of a small town. To the south was Chatonnay. It was time for them to part. He had done all that could be expected of him.
    He said coldly, ‘ That’s Trélier. You’ll be safe enough there. A little further is Lancerre and the sea. Here’s the piece of gold I promised you and you can keep the horse.’
    Marietta felt as if there were bands of steel around her heart. He was leaving her just as he had said he would. She would no longer have to put up with his amusement and contempt, but she felt no relief at the thought—only an overwhelming desolation.
    â€˜I don’t want your gold,’ she answered stiffly.
    He shrugged and pocketed it. The horses pawed the ground impatiently as their riders remained motionless, the minutes lengthening as neither made any move to go off in their