The Ruins of Lace by Iris Anthony Read Free Book Online Page A

fortunes, and their heads, intact. Cardinal St. Florent clearly wanted to be one of those… though I suspected he had not yet climbed quite as high as he hoped.
    “You can see how it might be an inconvenience for me to be denied my inheritance at this point in my life.”
    “Yes.” His gaze took my measure from tip to toe. “I’ve seen a thing or two.”
    “Considering how much the Marquis of Eronville will leave to his heir, and considering this new babe of his will never know how great a debt of gratitude he owes you… might it not be wise to side with one who does?”
    “Wise?”
    “Profitable, even…?”
    “I’ve never had anything against profit…which is why I’m so inclined to agree with your father’s point of view.” His smile was perfunctory as he moved to step into the carriage.
    Apparently, my father had thought of everything. “So he’s offered you money, then.”
    The cardinal turned, his brow raised.
    My gaze fell once more upon that splendid collar, and then shifted to the avaricious gleam in his eyes. I made another gamble. “What does a man like you need with money? What you need is power. Influence. You need something that will let all the court know you are a man to be reckoned with.”
    “Well…I like to think that…” He proffered a modest shrug.
    I leaned close. “What you need, Your Eminence, is more lace .”
    “Lace?” His gaze narrowed as he looked at me. “Lace is forbidden.”
    “Tut, tut. As are all manner of things one can confess to a priest and then receive an indulgence for.” I leaned even closer. “Indulgence.” I whispered the word. “A privilege only the pious can hope to obtain. And lace is an indulgence only a very privileged few can even find anymore.” I reached out to touch the lace that trimmed his collar. “I can get you what you want. I can find you something better than this.”
    His gaze touched my lips and then crept up to my eyes. “You disgust me.”
    “Tell God whatever you think he will believe, but between the two of us, let there be nothing but truth. The truth is that if you deny my father’s request, I will get you the finest length of lace you have ever seen. Courtiers will envy you, and Richelieu himself will wonder why he hasn’t thought to take you into his council before. Think of it. You could be the owner of the finest length of lace in France. And all you have to do is agree with God himself, with me as supporting evidence in favor of your decision. My father was married to my mother. It’s so simple, Your Eminence. How could you be expected to rule in any other way?”
    He pulled his gloves onto his hands. Squinted up into his waiting carriage. “I hear the nuns up in Lendelmolen make the finest lace in Flanders.”
    I took his gloved hand in mine and pressed it to my lips. “I’ve heard that very same thing.”

Chapter 7
Alexandre Lefort
Château of Souboscq
The province of Gascogne, France
    Accursed, damnable lace!
    How was it a flimsy confection of thread could have turned into such a weighty burden?
    I stood behind a parapet on the roof of the château, surveying the fields of Souboscq, a great rage building within me. All I saw before me, all that grew in the fields that rolled beyond my sight, down into the valley, enriched the Leforts no longer. All of our care and worries, all of the peasants’ hard labor would fill not our own coffers, but those of the Count of Montreau. It had been thus for ten years. There was little solace that there was not very much in those fields to be seen. The crops, again, had mostly withered and died before the harvest.
    Damn the count and his pernicious lace!
    We hadn’t wanted him to lodge with us, Lisette’s father and I, those many years ago. His reputation as a libertine had preceded him, even so far as our small corner of the kingdom. But we hadn’t the grounds to refuse him. He was from a family both old and noble, and his father was one of the King’s most loyal