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and probably the most beautiful of all my daughters. There was no one in Scotland for her, and certainly no one in England today who would do. So I have come to Belle Fleurs.”

      He nodded, understanding. Then he said, “France has been in turmoil these past years, Jasmine. The king was hardly out of leading strings when his father died. Old Louis was no fool, and he was wise enough to make the queen regent for the boy, but that has caused such difficulty. Anne of Austria is also no fool. She has leaned heavily upon the cardinal, but the princes of the blood hate him and are jealous. I am glad you sailed to Nantes. Had you come via Calais you might never have gotten to Belle Fleurs. We have been fortunate in this little region, for we have seen little fighting, but about us all is conflict.”

      “Has it really been that bad, Philippe? We heard little of it at Glenkirk, and in England all we discuss is the king’s murder and the young king’s hopes of restoration.”

      “It has been that bad,” he said. “Last January the queen mother had the Prince de Conde, the Prince de Conti, and the Duc de Longueville arrested. Then she had to pacify Normandy and Burgundy. She left Paris in the hands of Monsieur while she went to Guyennne to restore their loyalty. Gaston d’Orleans’s loyalty is insecure at best and treasonous at worst, but he is her brother-in-law. He has never gotten over the fact that Louis XIII made his wife regent and not him.”

      “I thought Conde was loyal,” Jasmine said.

      “He runs with the hares and hunts with the hounds,” the Comte de Cher said dryly. “The chief troublemaker in all of this is Jean Francoise Paul de Gondi, the Archbishop of both Corinth and Paris. If there is a treasonous plot, you will be certain to find Gondi involved. For all his public piety, he is a very wicked and ambitious man. He has always believed that the queen mother was not fit, by virtue of her sex, to be the regent. If anyone is responsible for the estrangement between Monsieur and Anne of Austria, it is Gondi. So he lures Gaston d’Orleans, and the cardinal tries to convince the Duc de Bouillon, and his brother, Marshall Turenne, to give their complete loyalty to the queen mother. The marshall had some success in an August campaign in Champagne. The cardinal knew that if Turenne declared for Anne in light of his recent victories, it would be good for the young king. Turenne, however, refused, and so the cardinal made certain his next battle would cost him dearly for his presumption. He was beaten at Rethel only this autumn, but now the two Frondes, the first led by Gondi, and the Parisian burghers has joined with that of the princes. Only God knows what will happen now, ma cousine. I am not certain that in coming to France you have not jumped from the frying pan into the fire.”

      “When will the king declare his majority?” Jasmine asked.

      “Next September, following his thirteenth birthday. That was what his father wanted, and frankly, cherie, if the regency went on much longer, I should fear for King Louis’s life. All Anne and Cardinal Mazarin have to do is keep the boy in their hands until his next birthday. Once he is king in fact as well as in name, these rebels cannot continue on lest they be declared traitors. For now they keep France involved in civil wars under the guise of attempting to protect the king from his mother and the cardinal,” the comte explained.

      “What do you think of Mazarin?” she inquired, curious.

      “He learned well from Richelieu. This cardinal is a consummate politician, but he is honestly and entirely devoted to young Louis. The men who struggle against Mazarin are driven by self-interest,” Philippe de Saville told her. Then he patted her hand. “There is nothing for you in Paris right now, cherie, but here in this region, life goes on as it always has.” He chuckled. “No patriotic Frenchman would bring war into the vineyards, ma cousine. The early vintage is paramount.”

      She laughed, then grew more somber. “But are there suitable prospects for my daughter, Philippe?”

      “That is a woman’s matter, cherie. We must ask my sisters, Gaby and Antoniette. They will know, for they have daughters who needed to be married off once. Gaby and ’Toinette are like us, bereft of their mates now, and living with me at Archambault.” He chuckled. “They far prefer the spacious home of their childhood to the little dower houses each would have had to accept. Do you have a dower house at Glenkirk?”

      “Nay, but there is one at Cadby, and why the architects of these houses think widows need less room simply because they no longer have husbands is beyond me,” Jasmine said indignantly.

      “Mama. Adali said we had guests.” Autumn came into the hall. Her gown was of simple silver-blue damask, both bodice and skirt, with a wide collar of white linen edged in silver lace. Her hair was neat but not dressed, being plaited into a thick braid.

      “Tres charmante!” Philippe de Saville said with a smile.

      “This is my daughter, Lady Autumn Rose Leslie, monsieur le comte,” Jasmine said formally. Then she turned to the young girl. “Autumn, this is my cousin, Philippe de Saville, the Comte de Cher. With his permission you will call him Oncle Philippe.”

      Autumn made her curtsey. “How do you do, Oncle Philippe,” she said, and gave him her hand. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

      He kissed the elegant hand and bowed. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, ma petite. How lovely you are. We shall have no difficulty in finding you a husband.”

      “Oh, but I mean to go to Paris to court to seek a husband,” Autumn replied frankly. “Certainly no one of importance lives in the provinces, Oncle. I am an heiress, you know, and will accept only an aristocrat of good family with his own wealth, so I may be certain he doesn’t wed me merely for mine, and will not love me.”

      Philippe de Saville laughed heartily. “Mon Dieu, ma cousine, she is like every other woman in this family. Outspoken, and most frank. Ma petite,” he then said to Autumn, “your mama will explain the situation to you, but for the moment there is no real court in Paris because of our civil disturbances. Within the next year, however, that will change. In the meantime you will partake of society here in the region, and you will not find it lacking, I promise you.” Rising, he directed his next speech to Jasmine. “Come to Archambault for the twelve days of Christmas, but come before, on St. Thomas’s Day. My sisters will probably come to see you before then, so they may begin their plotting.” He bowed to both women and then took his leave.

      “No court?” Autumn looked crestfallen.

      “Perhaps it is better that you make your debut into society here first,” the mother soothed her daughter, secretly relieved. Autumn couldn’t know it, but court was such a bother, and the French court was more formal and devious than England’s court. I don’t know if I have the patience for this sort of thing anymore, Jasmine thought.

      “I like Oncle Philippe,” Autumn said with a smile.

      “You will like his sisters too,” Jasmine promised, “and they will be most valuable in introducing you into society here. You are related by blood through your great-grandfather de Marisco, whose mother was the second wife of the Comte de Cher and great-grandmother of Oncle Philippe.”

      “I never knew I had a French family on your side, Mama. Papa would occasionally mention his uncles in France. Where are they?”

      “Nearer to Paris. Eventually we shall meet them when the young king reaches his majority and the country is safe.”

      “I will need new gowns if I am to go to Archambault,” Autumn said slyly. “You would not want me to appear a poor and unfashionable Scots cousin, Mama.”

      Jasmine laughed. “We will wait until my cousins Gaby and Antoinette arrive, which, if the weather remains pleasant, will certainly be in a day or so. They will know just what to do.”

      “May I ride this afternoon?” Autumn asked her mother.

      “Of course, ma bébé, but remember, do not stray far. You do not know your way yet,” Jasmine cautioned.

      Autumn loved the horse she now rode. He was a tall and slender black gelding she had named, simply, Noir. She had changed from her gown into dark green woolen breeches lined in silk to protect her delicate

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