Roland de Cygne sighed. What if his father was right? In subsequent years, after Louis XIII was dead and Mazarin was running the kingdom, there was no doubt that the queen and Mazarin were so close that people wondered if they were secretly married. If Mazarin was the true father of the present monarch, then the Sun King was descended from a baseborn Italian whose ancestors may even have been Jewish.

But he was still King of France.

And whoever the real father of this honest young girl was, she bore the name of d’Artagnan. That was enough for the honor of his family.

One other consideration also came into his mind. He had not been without conscience, or misgiving, about forcing such a young woman into marriage with him. But given these new circumstances, there was no question that, in the long run, it was for her own good. Her chances of making a good marriage on such a small dowry were slim. And if her parents had hoped that she might do well for herself by becoming a royal mistress of some kind, he was sure that they had misjudged the girl. That wasn’t her character at all.

If she married him, however, she’d have rank, security and a comfortable life. And after I am gone, he thought, she’ll be well placed to make a second marriage more to her liking.

He made up his mind. It was time to take action. He was going to secure the heir his family needed, and to protect this young woman from her own foolishness.

The king liked brave men. And he’d never asked for anything before. He’d seek an audience with him in the morning.

Two days later, as Amélie was sitting in the dauphine’s dark room, both she and the dauphine were astonished when a courtier came to inform her that the king himself desired her presence.

“I can’t imagine why,” Amélie said. “I’m sure I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Nor can I, but you must go at once,” the dauphine told her.

She knew that, when not in council, the king conducted most of his business with a very few advisors. But she was quite surprised to find herself ushered into a salon in which the king was sitting on a fauteuil quite alone. Beside him was a table, covered by a rich cloth on which there were a number of papers. She curtseyed deeply as the door closed behind her.