Marguerite's stomach knotted with jealousy. Of course the women who had known Philippe intimately would want him back. But would that be enough to jeopardize either of them? "What are you saying?"

"He has withdrawn from service and assists with matters only when they do not take him from your side. This has led to some unrest."

The vicomte steepled his fingers together and lowered his voice to barely a whisper, forcing her to bend forward to hear his words. "The king has begun to pressure Desjardins to bring Saint-Martin back into the fold. So far, his efforts have met with failure, leading Desjardins to a state of frustration and aggravation that concerns me. I overheard him mention your name in a discussion with one of his associates. I suspect he has some plan to remove you. He sees you as an obstruction, yet the more he urges Saint-Martin to set you aside, the more contrary the marquis becomes."

Her gaze moved to Marie, then rose to the portrait of herself above the empty grate. Saint-Martin had commissioned it soon after their affair had begun. In the swirls of colorful paints she was forever arrested in her youth and innocence, her blue eyes dreamy with love and desire.

"What can I do?" she asked.

"Leave him."

Snorting softly, she said, "You might ask me to rip out my heart with my bare hands, it would be easier."

"You love him."

"Of course." Her gaze returned to his. "I have been ostracized. I could not have survived it if not bolstered by love."

"I would still have you."

Stunned, Marguerite froze. She stared at him, confused. "Beg your pardon?"

The vicomte's mouth lifted into a rueful curve. "I want you. I would take you in."

She pushed to her feet. "You must go."

De Grenier rose and rounded the small table that acted as a barrier between them. She retreated and he halted. "I mean you no harm."

"Saint-Martin will not be pleased that you were here." Her voice shook slightly, forcing her to lift her chin with bravado.