"Merci. You also look well."

They sat opposite one another and she waited for him to reveal why he would seek her out. She should have, perhaps, refused him. She was another man's mistress. In addition, she would be de Grenier's wife now, if she had followed her mother's wishes. From the slight flush along de Grenier's cheekbones, that uncomfortable realization did not elude him either.

The vicomte was a young man, only a few years older than she was. Tall and slender, he bore handsome features and kind eyes. He was dressed for riding and the deep brown color of his garments created an attractive contrast against the pale blue decor of her parlor. The smile she offered him was genuine, if slightly bemused.

"Mademoiselle," he began, before clearing his throat. He shifted nervously. "Please forgive the importunateness of my visit and the information I am about to share with you. I could conceive of no other way."

Marguerite hesitated a moment, uncertain of how to proceed. She glanced at Marie, who sat in the corner with head bent over a bit of darning. "I have recently gained a new appreciation for bluntness," she said finally.

His mouth curved and she was reminded that she'd always liked him. The vicomte was charming, making it easy to feel comfortable around him.

Then his smile faded.

"There are matters of some delicacy that Saint-Martin oversees," he murmured. "I am aware of them."

Her breath caught as she realized what he was attempting to tell her. How extensive was the secret du roi?

"Is something amiss?" she asked, her fingers linking tightly in her lap.

"I fear for your safety."

"My safety?"

De Grenier bent forward and set his forearms atop his knees. "Saint-Martin has proven to be very valuable to the king. In addition, he is well respected, and when it comes to traversing certain… intimate channels, he is unsurpassed. And missed."