Versailles – Duchess d'Artois's Private Salon
The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the crimson walls. Geneviève d'Artois sat in silence, a glass of untouched wine trembling in her grasp. The masquerade had been a disaster—not just a failure of her scheme, but a public humiliation.
"You should have burned the letter," she hissed under her breath, recalling the damning piece of correspondence Montmorency had waved before the assembled courtiers. Her carefully curated alliances were now fraying at the seams, whispers of her manipulation circling like vultures.
Madeleine entered the room cautiously. "The Marquise de Chalon has rescinded her support, Your Grace."
Geneviève slammed the glass down. "Of course she has. They smell blood, and now they'll retreat like cowards."
She stood, pacing the rug. Her eyes narrowed. "If I can't disgrace the girl, then I must isolate her. Cut off her roots, one by one."
Madeleine frowned. "You still believe she's merely a pawn?"
Geneviève turned slowly. "She's more than that now. She has influence, favor—and him." She exhaled. "And so, I'll do what I do best. I'll turn Versailles itself against her."
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Versailles – The Montmorency Wing, Midmorning
Marie leaned over a carved escritoire, reviewing a list of names with ink-stained fingers. Montmorency stood across from her, hands behind his back.
"She's already retaliating," he said quietly. "Several court tailors and perfumiers have refused to extend their services to you."
Marie lifted her chin. "Small wounds. I won't flinch."
Montmorency smiled faintly. "It would be far easier to remove you from court. Send you to the countryside. No eyes. No danger."
"And yet I'm still here," she replied, folding the parchment. "I've survived more than cold shoulders and gossip."
He stepped closer. "Then allow me to help you endure what's to come."
She looked at him, startled by the earnest tone in his voice. "Is this an alliance still? Or something… more?"
His hand brushed hers. "It began with politics. It's grown into purpose."
She smiled softly. "And affection?"
A pause. "Yes," he said, voice low, "and more than that."
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Versailles – Queen's Solar, That Afternoon
Queen Marie Antoinette leaned back as her ladies combed through correspondence. "So d'Artois has lost her touch," she mused, amused. "Montmorency bested her in her own game."
"More than bested," one of her confidantes murmured. "He humiliated her."
"And the girl? Marie?"
"Poised. Gracious. Quite the court darling now."
The Queen's interest sharpened. "Hmm. That is rare."
She stood, moving to the window. "Perhaps I should see her for myself. Invite her for tea."
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Versailles – The Fountain Courtyard, Evening
Montmorency and Marie walked side by side beneath the shadow of sculpted gods and marble lions. The garden was nearly empty, save for the occasional guard.
"She'll come again," Marie said. "The Duchess."
"She never truly leaves," he replied. "But you've earned allies now. Even the Queen is watching you."
Marie stopped walking. "That's not always a comfort."
Montmorency turned to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Then let me protect you, fully. I'll name you under my official patronage—publicly."
Her eyes widened. "You know what that would mean."
He nodded. "They already whisper. Let them. At least then, the strength of our bond won't be rumor—it will be declaration."
Marie searched his face, saw the sincerity. "Then… yes. Let it be declaration."
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Versailles – A Corridor Near the Royal Chapel, Later That Night
Geneviève moved through the dimly lit corridor, her black velvet cloak trailing behind her. She paused at a door, knocked once.
A man answered. Sharp jawline, eyes like cold iron—Duc de Brois, a political opponent of Montmorency.
"You're late," he muttered.
"I was busy losing," she replied dryly. "But now I plan to win."
"And how do you propose to do that?"
"By breaking their alliance," Geneviève said. "Not with poison, nor scandal. But with the truth."
He raised an eyebrow. "What truth?"
She smiled thinly. "The one Montmorency buried with his father. I have a letter… a confession. He won't want it to surface."
Duc de Brois crossed his arms. "You're playing a dangerous game, Geneviève."
"I always do."
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