I came to court, I continued to grieve, but then..." she sobbed.
"Trust me, Micheline. I'll help you if I can."
She tried to smile through her tears. "I haven't been able to tell anyone, not even Aimée." Taking a deep breath, Micheline looked into St. Briac's sympathetic eyes and repeated the story of Bernard's infidelities that she had heard in the garden. How long ago that seemed! She had been a different person then.
"It broke my heart. I felt robbed of my last shred of pride and my last illusion about my marriage. I didn't think I could ever feel the slightest attraction to any man again, let alone—"
"Fall in love?"
"Yes! And even after my love for Andrew became almost overwhelming, I tried to deny it. I was so afraid that giving in to my feelings would bring me even more heartache than I'd suffered because of Bernard."
"What changed your mind?"
"Many things... I suppose it was inevitable. I'd turned away from the truth in my marriage, but when it caught up with me, it had grown to drastic proportions. Deep inside, I probably knew from the first night I met Andrew that I would eventually have to surrender to my feelings. Love and fear have been struggling in my heart ever since... and, of course, the problem has been compounded by my betrothal to the Marquess of Sandhurst. I hid behind that commitment as long as I could." Micheline gave him a shaky smile. "Too long, it seems. Then I met Francois Rabelais. The things he said to me stirred up my deepest emotions and made me see the truth!"
"But then you were taken ill," St. Briac sighed. He rose to pace before the fireplace. "Are you really prepared to cast aside caution now?"
"I don't see it quite that way, monseigneur. Andrew is not Bernard. That, of course, was apparent from the start, but what I had a harder time realizing was that he would not repeat Bernard's behavior just because he is a man. While I was ill, I had a great deal of time to think about Andrew. He is very masculine, yet so tender, just the right mate for me. None of us knows what the future will bring, but for now I am resolved not to waste another day because I'm afraid to live."
"And it doesn't matter that he can't offer you wealth or nobility?"
Micheline laughed softly. "Of course not! He is better than any nobleman. All I ask is to share his life—if he'll still have me."
Her eyes widened in silent appeal. St. Briac rubbed his bearded jaw and made a low sound of frustration, then returned to sit across from Micheline.
"Please," she implored, tears springing once more to her eyes, "say that you know where Andrew has gone! If I could not find him..." That thought was too terrible to articulate.
"As it happens, I do know—"
Micheline leaped nearly into his lap. "Oh, monseigneur, I love you!" she exclaimed, weeping and laughing at once. "Tell me, please, tell me!"
"I'll do better than that, ma petite. I'll take you to him myself, though God knows what Aimée will have to say about it." Thomas spared a sigh at the prospect of trying to explain to his wife without breaking his oath to Jeremy Culpepper. Then he rose and grinned at Micheline.
"Make haste, madame! We leave for Paris by midday!"
* * *
As it turned out, St. Briac was able to persuade Aimée that Micheline should be reunited with her true love, once she was convinced that her friend truly did love Andrew, but when he told her of that day's journey to Paris, she took a stand.
"I hope you do not entertain thoughts of leaving me behind, Thomas!"
"As a matter of fact, I do." He pretended to be busy selecting clean clothing for the journey.
"I'm going," she declared.
"You must stay and look after the babies. Besides, I shouldn't be away more than two days."
"Suzette can care for the girls, especially for so short a time. I will not be denied this adventure! What if something goes wrong? Micheline may need me! Besides, I want to visit Nicole. I miss her."
St. Briac tried to repress a smile as he thought back to the last time he had ordered her to stay behind like a good wife. Aimée had followed him to Paris anyway—pregnant and dressed as a boy.
"I may be lord of a village and all the surrounding lands, but I cannot master my own wife," he sighed.
Aimée crossed