Roulade

Though I am astonished about the insinuation I know that I am but a slave. I have no high status that will protect me. I must prove my usefulness to protect myself if I am to survive.

The Prince chuckles. I am surprised at the outburst, as are all my advisors. A silence falls on the table as they anticipate the Prince's words. "I have plans for Duchess Pierrette-Danielle that doesn't involve her demise." I don't know if I want to relax or fear at his words.

"Good" Bertrand says with a grin. "She is entertaining." I want to sink into the chair. I am not trying to amuse him. I am blunt with them because I think that is the best way to build our relationship. It is not as if they haven't seen my true face, so I need to act dumb.

I wish to end this discussion, so I again motion to the servants to remove this course for the next. They step forward to retrieve the empty plates before every man, and scamper to recuperate the new ones.

"Duchess, what are your skills?" Bertrand demands my attention yet again. So much for my plan to observe the men to know how to act.

"What do you define as a skill?" I counter.

"Sewing, singing, playing an instrument. Those type of activities." He offers suggestions.

"I am not accomplished in such arts. I am better with puzzles and strategy." I counter.

"Every good wife should know how to cook and sew." He declares.

I laugh. "Lucky for me, the man my father betrothed me to does not need a wife like that."

"You are betrothed?" The Prince pipes in. I turn to him, unsure of how to answer. I am saved as again silver domes are placed before each guest.

I stand and compose a response in my head as I introduce this next dish. "This is called Roulade. A chicken breast is cut and beat to be as thin as possible. There are a variety of fillings that can be used. Tonight, the chicken is rolled around fresh goat cheese with lemon and honey. The meat is further sealed with a layer of bacon round that. There is hollandaise sauce drizzled over the meat."

I quickly sit and cut a bite, saying "bon appetite." The echo greats me as I chomp on the morceaux. The food is well balanced between the sweet of the honey, the sour of the lemon, the bite of the cheese, and the savor of the bacon. Yet this delicacy is tasteless to me, as I contemplate what to say to Prince Clement-Victor.

Once I have swallowed, I regain my courage and lean over. "Prince Clement-Victor, to answer your question, it was my father's choice. I assumed with this conflict and my decision to side with Varzy that the engagement would be broken."

"Who did he have you marrying?"

"A Lord under him here in the Dukedom." I say. The Prince raises his eyebrows, indicating that he is far from satisfied from my words. "His name is Lord François of Agen"

"Have you met him." His eyes pierce into me, pining me to the truth.

"Yes, I have known him since I was little."

"Do you love him?" My eyes widen in shock. Please say he is not considering casting me into that pit. Why pin me with such invasive questions?

"There is no chance that I would have feelings for that pig. He could be my father or grandfather in age. He only wanted to marry me because of my youth, and the large dowry he would receive. His regard sends shivers down my spine."

"You are right, the engagement is off. I will have need of your capacities, and you couldn't perform them well as a confined wife."

"I am happy to know that I am freed." I answer honestly. He gives a small nod and grunt, dismissing my attention. I am grateful to find the Bertrand has found the company of Marcus and by doing so, liberated me from his questions. He is kind, and I enjoy his chatter, but I am exhausted from today. Who would have thought I would survive? Who would have thought that I would be a duchess? This Prince is an enigma. Rumors and gossip are nothing more then leaves in the breeze that flutter away, and lack substance.

"Duchess Pierrette-Danielle, you said that you don't do domestic skills. Can you ride?" I squint at Bertrand who has broken my momentary peace and reflection.

"No, I have never been allowed, just as I was never allowed to learn to fight. It isn't an ability taught to a lady in Bresse." I explain with exhaustion.

"You want to fight?" He asks back at me.

"It is a useful skill to know in case of attack."

"Why didn't you teach her Sir Marcus?" Bertrand asks my knight.

"She was already sneaking around to do charitable work and read. I didn't want to add to her clandestine activities." Marcus is blunt. I recall our many fights where I tried to convince him to teach me. Those fights had caused great rifts to be forged between us at the beginning, when I was a temperamental young teen. Since I have seen the wisdom in his words, without agreeing. I have matured to understand that we are restrained by our culture.

"Do you want me to teach you?" I grin at the suggestion, and give a violent nod.

"You would teach me to fight?" I need to hear the promise from his lips.

"More self-defense but it seems a good idea. Your Highness, do you give your authorization?"