“My home is in England,” she began. “Now that I no longer have a French husband I should return to my native land.”
“My dearest
“The Duke of Savoy by any chance?”
“So you already had your eye on him. He will be a good husband to you.”
“When I marry, Sire, I should like to be the one who had decided on my partner.”
Francois slowly uncrossed his legs. He rose and came to her chair. There he stood smiling down at her.
“You are fully aware of my feelings toward you.”
“Oh yes. You forgive me my follies because you like my face and now my figure.”
He took her hands and pulled her up, standing very close to her.
“I have thought a great deal about our future,” he told her.
“Ours?”
“Yours and mine.”
“Yours is a great destiny.”
“I should like you to have a share in it. I think that together we should find great … contentment.”
“I to share your life? And your Queen?”
“Poor little Claude. She will do her duty in a docile manner, but she will not expect to share my life.”
“But she shares your throne.”
“Here in France it is the woman the King loves who is in truth Queen of France—not the one he marries.”
“You are suggesting that I become your mistress!”
“Do not look horrified. You have forgotten that I am now the King. Everything you wish will be yours. Savoy shall understand the position so that he will be no encumbrance to you.”
“I see. Is that how matters are arranged in France?”
“It is how I intend matters shall be arranged in France.”
He had his arms about her and she placed her hands on his chest, holding him off. He could see now that she was in truth afraid of him.
“Francois,” she said urgently, “you have always been my friend.”
“And always will be, I hope.”
“From the moment I saw you, although my coming could well have meant the death of all your hopes, you were good to me. More than anyone you made me feel welcome and comfortable in a new land.”
“That was my endeavor.”
“So now I am going to be frank with you. I am going to ask you to help me. I am fond of you, Francois. You see I speak to you as my friend—not as the King of France. But I shall never willingly be your mistress. Oh, it is not that I hate you, or find you repulsive. That would be foolish. Everyone knows you are the most attractive man in France. But Francois, before I came to France I loved, and I do not change. I shall love one man forever.”
“Suffolk?” said Francois.
“You know.”
“You betrayed your feelings at the tournament, when he tilted against the German.”
She had clasped her hands across her breast and was looking at him appealingly. Francois turned away. This was too much. After having played her tricks on him and his family she was asking him to help her make a secret marriage with Suffolk, so that the dowry and the jewels should not after all remain in France.
The impudence of this girl was past belief.
She was catching at his arm and there were tears in her beautiful eyes. “Oh, Francois, you who are so gallant, so wise, will understand. I shall tell you everything because you are as a brother to me … the dearest, kindest brother any girl ever had. I thought I should die of a broken heart when they told me I should have to marry Louis. And my brother promised me that if I did, on his death I should marry whom I pleased. That time has come, and I shall look to my brother to keep his promise.”
Francois walked away from her and pulled thoughtfully at the hangings.
He said, without turning to look at her: “I can tell you this. Your brother has no intention of keeping his promise to you. He is negotiating for the Prince of Castile as your second husband.”
“When I see my brother I can persuade him.”
“As you hope to persuade me?”
“I know that you are kind at heart and would always want to help a woman in distress.”
“You ask too much,” said Francois. And indeed she did, she who refused his embraces and had the effrontery to ask him to help her to enjoy a rival’s!
“Not of you … the King … the all powerful King.”
“The marriage of Princesses cannot be settled at the whim of one King.”
