Chapter 7

“You enjoy playing with fire, too much,” Adam Louvel told his master as he sipped his warm wine. “One day, a jealous husband is going to be the fire that burns you.”

“If it hasn’t happened by now, my friend, I don’t believe it will. Most men know their wives are unfaithful, but they turn a blind eye to the truth. They don’t want to know that their wives find better pleasure from me than from them. In fact, they should thank me. After their wives have been in my bed, they return home with a bag of new tricks. Their wives become better lovers because of me. Think of it as a service I am providing.”

Louvel laughed at the idea that adultery was a form of educational service. “There are many wives to choose from, Jacques. Why this one?” he asked. “You and De Carrouges seemed to mend your broken bridges today. Why risk reopening old wounds?”

“Do you have eyes in your head?” Le Gris asked his long-time man-at-arms.

“Of course, I do,” Louvel replied. “I can see she is beautiful, but you can have plenty of beautiful women without the risk that comes with this one. I sometimes think it’s the risk that excites you.”

“Of course it does,” Le Gris admitted, “but there is something special about this one. Marguerite is different. She is like a perfect flower that you want to pluck so that you alone can enjoy her fragrance and her beauty.”

“But surely her husband has already plucked that flower,” Louvel countered.

“I am sure that my old friend has bedded his bride, but I can see it in her eyes. She is not a virgin, but she’s never been properly plucked. There is so much I can teach her. I can help her experience the joys of pleasure, something Jean could never do.”

“You’ve already cuckolded him once,” Louvel stated. “Is it so important for you to do it again? Hasn’t the man suffered enough?”

“He killed them!” Le Gris snarled. “He has not begun to suffer.”

“You know that’s not true,” Lovel argued. “De Carrouges was a week’s ride away when his wife and son took ill. It was the plague what got them, not Jean de Carrouges.”

“Be that as it may,” Jacques replied, “I hold him responsible.”

“So you want to fuck his new wife for revenge?”

“No, it is nothing like that,” Jacques fired back. “This has nothing to do with the past. Marguerite is incredible. She is smart, beautiful, and witty. She would make me a far better wife than De Carrouges!”

“Wife! You’re already married, or did you forget that point?”

“I haven’t forgotten, but my wife is ill and weak. She cannot be long for this world.”

“And what? You’d take the lady Marguerite as your new wife once the current one kicks the bucket?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you propose to do that when she’s already married to Jean de Carrouges?”

“Marriages can be undone.”

“Are you mad?”

“Maybe I am, Louvel. Maybe I am. Mad or bewitched. I don’t know which. But, from the moment I saw her, I knew I had to have her. When we kissed, I could tell she felt it too. There’s something between us. We are destined to be together. She is Eurydice to my Orpheus.”

“Sorry, but I’m not well versed in Greek love stories,” Louvel said sarcastically, “but I’m pretty sure that’s a tragedy. Do you know what that means? It means it didn’t end well, and neither will this obsession.”

Movement across the room caught Louvel’s attention. “Speaking of Eurydice,” he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “She just walked in.”

Jacques turned, saw Marguerite, and started to stand.

“Don’t get up,” she said quietly. “Please, stay seated. I only came down to have one cup of spiced wine to help dull the sound of Jean’s snores.”

Adam Louvel rose to his feet anyway. “Thank you, milady, but I must be off. There was a plump cook who invited me to her bed, and I’m already late. Goodnight, lady Marguerite,” he said with a bow. Then he winked at Le Gris and added, “G’nite Orpheus.”

“Do I know you, sir?” Marguerite asked as Louvel turned to leave. “You seem very familiar to me.”

“Not exactly, my lady,” Louvel explained. “My name is Louvel, Adam Louvel. I have a small house in the village of Campomesnil. My wife is the seamstress. You came to her shop to order some dresses. I met you that day and have seen you around the village from time to time.”