Daughter of Silk Read Online Free PDF

in the sunlight, the folds of burgundy silk and the cloth of gold catching the sun and gleaming. But with the breeze continually moving the cloth, Rachelle sighed and again ceased her work. She requested they work inside the chamber but Marguerite would have none of it.
    “I feel imprisoned here at Chambord. Oh, that I were in the garden now with Monsieur Henry. Oh, I must be outdoors to breathe.”
    Charlotte drifted back to the balustrade. “Marquis de Vendôme knows Monsieur Henry de Guise well.” She was looking toward his bal- cony again. “It may be, Princesse, that he can arrange a meeting for you both tonight in the garden. Then you shall be happy again. Shall I ask the marquis?”
    Rachelle pricked up her ears. She glanced across the terrace at Charlotte. Scheming again, the minx.
    Louise laughed coldly. “How unselfish of you, Charlotte, to risk the ire of the Queen Mother by arranging such a meeting. What will you tell her Majesty the next time you report to her?”
    Princesse Marguerite shivered at the mention of her mother. Charlotte ignored Louise. “Now there is a man for you, I assure you.” She could only be speaking of Marquis Fabien.
    Charlotte breezed on with calm confidence: “I shall have him for my own before the season is over.”
    Princesse Marguerite laughed scornfully. “Do not imagine you will prevail. You will never have him . He is too shrewd for even you, Charlotte. Even I could not capture him. Now he is my ami.”
    “It is Athenais who has his interest,” Louise said, “no matter what you say, Charlotte.”
    Charlotte lounged seductively against the pillar on the balustrade, hands behind her. Her blue satin dress with Oriental pearls showed her curvaceous body. Her décolletage continued to get lower with each gown she wore. It would not trouble her to run about naked, Rachelle thought wrathfully.
    “Athenais is a mere child, and she will not hold his interest. There are ways to end even that,” Charlotte said.
    Rachelle blew away the strand of hair that tickled her cheek, and once again, would like to have jabbed a well-spoken word into Charlotte’s pride. Charlotte was older than the rest of Marguerite’s ladies. Perhaps she thought her experience would appeal to the marquis? Rachelle felt confident the belle dame would not suffer a wounded conscience for tempting a man. She did so deliberately. She’s had too much experience, she thought, then was ashamed of her own gaucherie. After all, except for court gossip, what did she truly know about Charlotte?
    “Ouch.”
    Princesse Marguerite looked down at Rachelle, who put her finger to her lips.
    “Pricked yourself, m’amie? Do not get any blood on my hemline, or I shall give you two pricks.”
    “Fear not, Princesse, I should sooner leap from the balustrade as to spoil this silk from my own home in Lyon. Only I know the labor my family went through to bring it here to you, an honor I assure you,” Rachelle hastened.
    Marguerite laughed and reached over to playfully tug at a strand of Rachelle’s hair.
    “And such wondrous silk,” Louise said with a renewed sigh, and the others agreed there was none like Macquinet silk.
    “Mademoiselle-Princesse, you shall show yourself the most belle of all your ladies when you wear this gown, for there is none like it, I assure you.” Rachelle gave the princesse a tired smile, taking refuge for the moment in the praise of her work.
    Marguerite stepped down from the stool. “Enough for today, Rachelle. I have grown restless. Come back in the morning.” She wandered across the terrace, allowing the breeze to lift the material like butterfly wings. “I am expected to wear this gown for the King of Portugal at the banquet in his honor when he comes to Chambord this summer, but I will not. I shall wear it only for Monsieur Henry, I swear it.”
    Her ladies helped Marguerite remove the gown and fold it carefully for Rachelle to take with her to the Macquinet chambers where the final