A Powerful Little Love

Chapter 43

For a few seconds Amorette was not sure if Buckingham heard her.  He was looking anywhere but at her face and she thought he might turn on his heel and walk away from her.

"George," she repeated.  "Please."

Her pleading seemed to strike a chord with him.  He turned to glance over her sopping wet appearance as he considered what Amorette had asked of him.  Eventually after a long pause he gave a single nod and Amorette felt relief racing through her.  She ascended the staircase, glancing back every so often to ensure that he still followed. 

As was to be expected on such a horrid day, the upper floors of the Louvre were packed with bored courtiers milling around in wait of the rain stopping.  Buckingham garnered the usual stares and mutters as he marched along in Amorette's wake but he seemed as unaffected as he ever was by it all.  Amorette paid little heed to it all as she was thankful that those judgemental glances never fell onto her own shoulders any more.  At length they reached the ladies corridor and Amorette admitted her friend into her own rooms.

She slipped off her hat and gestured to the side table.  "There's brandy.  I know how you don't drink the wine here so I got it specially for you."

Amorette wasn't sure what she saw in his expression as she unclipped the clasp that held her cloak in place.  She let it slip off her shoulders and the water laden material fell to the floor with a thud.  Buckingham was pouring himself a brandy, but he glanced up at the sound.  "Good God you're soaked through Amorette!"  He cried.  Abandoning his glass of Brandy, he raced towards her and began to pull on the lace strings of her dress.  "You need to get these wet things off now before you catch your death of cold!  How long have you been wondering about like this for?"

Within seconds Buckingham had helped Amorette strip out of her dress and underskirts until she was standing in just her shift and corset.  She couldn't help smiling softly though as Buckingham rung the bell for a fire to be lit and ushered her into her bedchamber.  Despite his cold greeting to her and his lack of letters over the last months, he still cared for her.  His actions over the last few minutes had proved that much. 

When Amorette had dried herself off and dressed again in dry clothes she returned to the parlour to find Buckingham on his second glass of brandy.  He handed her a glass of the brown liquid as she rounded the couch and perched next to him.  She gulped the liquid down greedily, feeling the warmth begin to spread from it all over her body.  They sat in silence until the fire was lit and only when the door closed behind the steward did Amorette dare to speak.

"I know you are no doubt still upset about what happened some months ago George, but I'm afraid I have no other explanation than what I gave to you then.  I am sorry if you have been hurt or offended by anything that I've said or done but I am not sorry that I did what was in my opinion the right thing."

For what felt like an age Buckingham stayed silent and Amorette wasn't sure what he was going to say.  Still staring into the fire, he finally made a sound as he cleared his throat before speaking.  "Of course I was upset.  Those men were my friends and peers; some of them even family.  You readily handed them over to the French authorities.  At the time I blamed you for not thinking of my feelings, but now I understand a little bit more why you did what you did.  I keep forgetting I suppose that your allegiance will always be to France.  Your father's treatment ensured that before anything else ever did.  Surely you can understand why I would be confused though.  You see you have many English friends and family still, and I do not believe you would wish them ill."

"Of course I don't!" Amorette cried indignantly.  "I don't see the world as an atlas, with my only allies marked out clearly upon a map of France.   But George, those men were not my allies and they were not yours either.  They would have started a war that neither of our countries need.  France is still at war with Spain and from what I have heard, England is turning upon itself from the inside out.  That is where those men's concentration should be!"