Chapter Notes:
Latin:
Nine = Novem
Ten = Decem

Chapter 12 – Saxon and Madame du Pompadour

It had been two weeks since the last ball. Two weeks since the King had danced with her for the second time.

Since then Decem seemed to want to spend all his time with her. Rose suspected that the King's dance with her had unnerved him, it had certainly unnerved her. The way Decem was acting it could almost be called jealousy, which Rose did not understand as he had nothing to be jealous about. Sure, it was unusual for the King to dance with anyone, especially someone as low as her station but she had uncovered an assassination plot against him. The King was only dancing with her out of some sense of gratitude and duty; there was nothing else to it.

It was mid-week and they had spent most of the day out in the gardens, talking and relaxing and just having fun in the mild late autumn weather.

The time for dinner was fast approaching when the young couple decided to go for a stroll before heading in for food. Rose chose the path lined with Apple Grass flowers, their sweet scent filling the air.

"I will never get used to this place. It is beautiful," Rose said as she let her hand skim across the delicate petals.

"It is very beautiful," Decem said referring more to Rose then the scenery.

Rose suddenly turned to Decem, a large grin on her face, "Can I just say, I really enjoyed today, all this week really.

"Me too. Come on," Decem held his arm out to her which she happily took.

They meandered further down the path before Decem spoke again. "Lady Weber is having a small gathering next week, if you would like to go?" he said, giving her a roguishly handsome smile.

"Hmmm..." Rose made a show of considering the idea, tapping a finger against her lips, before beaming and crying, "Of course!"

"Wonderful!" Decem said and caught her by the hands, spinning her around and causing Rose to laugh. "I shall meet you in the entrance hall and we can take my carriage."

Arm in arm the pair made their way back up to the castle, each just as excited as the other for the upcoming gathering.

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Rose spent the next few days fretting about what to wear to Lady Weber's party. This was the first time she had been invited to a gathering specifically by Decem and she wanted to make a good impression.

So, there were many hours spent agonizing over what to wear, trying on dresses, different combinations of colours and different styles. In the end Rose chose a dress with a sky-blue bodice and a full, pink skirt; it was a colourful and exuberant dress and one she thought Decem would like.

When the evening of the party finally arrived, Rose made sure to arrive at the entrance hall in plenty of time but somehow Decem still managed to be there waiting.

He beamed at the sight of her, "You look lovely."

"Thank you," Rose gushed, "You look very handsome yourself."

They made their way out to the courtyard where the carriage awaited them. Rose did not see, nor did she care about the sidelong glances she received from other courtiers as she climbed into Decem's carriage without a chaperone.

Soon they were off, and the carriage trundled down the many winding streets to Dame Kelly Holmes Close where Lady Trish Webber lived with her daughter, Chloe, as her husband was often away on business.

The manor house was large building and brightly lit by many hundreds of candles, like a beacon for the guests.

The party was in full swing by the time Rose and Decem arrived; the rooms were already packed with guests gathered in small groups and the ball room had several couples dancing.

To her disappointment Decem left her very quickly after their arrival to go talk to some business associates. Somewhat dejected she stood waiting for him to return in one of the smaller sitting rooms. As she waited Rose spotted a ginger cat emerging from behind one of the chairs.

"Hello, little one. What is your name?" Rose asked, her mood instantly lifting.

The cat rubbed affectionately up against her skirts and nudged her gently as she rubbed its head. After several moments the cat began to walk away, and Rose quickly followed, her curiosity and tendency to wander off manifesting itself once more. Trailing behind the cat Rose got held up trying to manoeuvre around the other guests and soon lost sight of it.

"Oh!" she sighed in disappointment, "Where could he have gone?"

Rose craned her head, scouring the room for any glimpse of the cat but to no avail. She continued her search and soon found herself in the ball room. She came to a stop next to the butler, Kel, she thought his name was. He had introduced her and Decem when they arrived, and she was almost certain that he had said his name was Kel.

Kel looked about the room with an anxious gaze; a slight sheen of sweat coated the dark skin on his face.

"Are you alright?" Rose asked.

He had not noticed Rose and jumped a little when she spoke. "Yes! No, oh I don't know."

Rose gave him an encouraging look.

He looked uncertain. He should not be talking to a guest so openly about family matters, and yet something in Rose's demeanour, her kind-heartedness in enquiring about him something no other courtier had done, made him feel he could trust her.

"All week I have been fixing this place, getting it ready for this ball, everything was perfect this afternoon, everything in its place. And now ... now it is being torn apart."

Rose would not have gone that far but she could see that he was a man that took pride in his work and the guests were indeed being quite liberal in how they treated the items and decorations in the room.

"I do not think it is as bad as that," Rose tried to console him, "There is some degradation but that is normal for all balls."

Kel looked unconvinced but he was not clenching his jaw as tightly as before.

Taking another look around the room Rose spotted her host, Lady Weber, looking even more stressed than her butler.

"How is Lady Weber, she appears to be somewhat strained? Is everything alright with her?" Rose asked.

He shrugged, unsure of whether or not to answer, and looked sheepishly at her before seemingly making a decision, "Not really, her daughter is causing her much stress. All moody and sullen, and staying in her room all day and refusing to leave."

"Young girls can certainly be all of those things. I am sure I gave my mother just as much grief," Rose tried to consol.

Kel gave an appreciative smile, "The young mistress made a new friend, a girl called Isolus. Unfortunately, her father does not approve of Isolus and has forbidden the two girls from seeing each other. Lady Weber has tried to talk him around, but he will not be moved on the matter. Young Chloe has not been right since."

He had just finished speaking when a voice called, "There you are, Rose."

Decem had appeared and seem eager to speak with her. Rose again noticed that Decem had been acting more flamboyant since the King had danced with her, but she pushed the probing thoughts aside. Decem pulled her out onto the dance floor without letting her thank or ever finish speaking with Kel.

Rose soon forgot the momentary rudeness as they danced together, and she was swept up into a dazzling and swirling world where only she and Decem existed.

"There is someone I would like you to meet."

"Oh really," Rose said, her eyes alight with intrigue.

"Mhm," Decem murmured as he whirled her around the dance floor. "But that is for later."

Quite scandalously they danced another two dances together without changing partners or even stopping. Not that either of them minded, too caught up with the other to notice or care how others perceived their behaviour.

"Ah, there he is," Decem exclaimed and with a final flourishing twirl he pulled Rose off the dance floor.

"Who?" Rose questioned, her eyes rapidly scanning the room trying to figure out who Decem was speaking about.

Decem led her through the crowd to a tall, haughty man.

With an exaggerated bow Decem introduced Rose. "Permit me to introduce my brother, Rose," he said to her, "Lord Saxon."

The two men were poles apart. Saxon looked nothing like Decem; where Decem was warm and open Saxon was cold and aloof. Decem had an engaging manner whereas Saxon's was distant and standoffish.

"Brother, may I present Baroness Rosabel Tyler."

"My Lord," Rose curtsied.

"My Lady," Saxon bowed to her. "It is a pleasure to finally meet the woman my brother has talked so much about."

While it was meant as a compliment Rose felt unnerved by it.

"Only good things, I hope?" Rose tried to joke but it came out somewhat strained.

Saxon gave a hollow chuckle, while Decem laughed heartily, clearly not sensing any tension. "Only the best, I promise," Decem said while patting her hand.

There was an awkward silence where no one spoke, Saxon seemed to think it beneath him to speak first and Decem looked expectantly at Rose to speak.

Her mind struggling to find and compose coherent thoughts Rose eventually asked, "Have you been in the city long, Lord Saxon?"

"I have only just arrived. I do not like court and try to spend as little time here as possible," he paused to pick off an unseen piece of dirt from his coat, "Court is full of frivolity and trifling, petty people and that is something I could do without."

"Oh," Rose was at a loss as to what else to say.

"That is my brother for you," Decem chimed in, "as practical a man as they come."

Saxon was doing nothing wrong per say, he was being a bit rude perhaps, nevertheless there was just something that Rose did not like him. She could not describe or explain why but she took an instant dislike to the man. There was just something about Saxon that did not seem right. Something that was false, more false, than the normal court facade.

Rose's initial assessment of Saxon was proven correct far sooner than she would have liked.

"Ah, there is the Duke of Manhattan, I have urgent business that I must discuss with him and I must speak with him before he leaves. Brother, would you be so kind as to keep Rose company while I am gone?"

"But of course. The young Baroness and I will have much to talk about as we get acquainted."

Rose grimaced inwardly; it seemed as if she would be stuck with Saxon for the remainder of the ball. Thankfully, there was not long left.

"Excellent. Rose, please excuse me." He bowed to Rose and with that he left her standing forlornly beside his brother.

Saxon waited until his brother was well out of ear shot before turning to face Rose and she found herself confronting dark, snapping eyes. Brown hair accentuated lean cheekbones and a resolute jaw, and his mouth was compressed into a stern arrogant line.

Rose stood in resentful silence while his gaze slid boldly over her, from the top of her golden blonde hair to her elegant shoes. While Rose was little accustomed to the admiring glances of gentlemen, there was nothing gentlemanly about Lord Saxon's insolent, lazy perusal of her body.

"I will admit you are somewhat pretty; it is a pity about your financial situation. It was your father's fault I believe that you are virtually penniless? It amazes me that you have not swooned at all these rich and wealthy eligible Lords. Indeed, even at this very moment you are in the presence of an extremely wealthy Earl."

"Why, how dare you?" Rose was incensed, her face flushed with indignation and an icy fire smouldered in her green eyes.

His hollow chuckle held a note of mockery.

"Why, you arrogant cad. You are a stuck-up conceited man if you believe I would ever swoon at your feet!" she hissed.

Turning her back on Saxon, with her head held high she strode away from him. Halfway across the room she spotted Decem leaving the hall with the Duke of Manhattan which only incensed her further. Decem really had abandoned her to the clutches of his brother. Stalking out to the front of the mansion Rose summoned a carriage to take her back to the castle.

Rose's first instinct was to go to Martha and tell her about Saxon, however, midway back to the castle she reconsidered. While they were no longer fighting, Rose thought that perhaps a discussion on Saxon, as Decem's brother, would be too much of a sore point. Rose instead returned to her rooms and found Raffalo there.

Raffalo knew instantly that something had happened and seated herself, ready to listen before Rose could even open her mouth.

"You would not believe what happened tonight. I met Decem's brother Lord Saxon and ohhh!" Rose growled, not seeing how Raffalo had gone tense at Saxon's name.

"I care deeply about Decem, but his brother is an odious, insufferable and self-satisfied man. The gall of him to say the things he did! Not one iota of shame, bold as brass!" Rose ranted, pacing furiously up and down the room.

"Argh!" she threw her hand up into the air before turning back to Raffalo. "I will not offend your sensibilities by repeating what he said. The man is an overpowering, conceited beast," she hissed.

Raffalo was caught as to what to do at the display of indignance, try to console Rose or to just let her rant and get it out of her system. She chose the latter

Once Rose had calmed down enough to listen Raffalo told her the downstairs gossip about Saxon.

"He is generally disliked by all staff, the only ones who like are of the same ilk as him, the bullies and cutthroats. I remember some time ago, before you arrived, a maid had brought the wrong food to his rooms and he beat her senseless."

Rose gasped in horror, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. "How could he? Was she alright?"

"She was eventually, but she was very shaken for weeks after."

"What did the King do when he found out?"

"He didn't find out."

"What?"

"As much as we might wan' to we can't speak out against Saxon."

Rose's brow furrowed in confusion. "But surely the King would listen to you?"

"I'm sure the King would and quite possibly reprimand Saxon, but the King can't watch all staff at all times. Saxon has many followers in the castle, and he would make sure that there were plenty of unfortunate accidents for those who spoke out against him."

Rose's face fell in dismay, "So there is nothing you can do?"

Raffalo shook her head. "We do what we can. Make sure everything is perfect, that he has nothing to complain about and keep our heads down. Some of the footmen have offered to take meals to him since then. Saxon will beat anyone who displeases him, but he is particularly fond of going after maids."

A shiver went down Rose's spine. "He does not have any female relatives, does he?" a note of concern entered Rose's voice.

Raffalo nodded, "I believe there is a sister as well, but she never comes to court. Court is too mundane for the likes of her. By all accounts she's as bad as he is. But yes, he is also married, to a Miss Lucy Cole, as was. But she spends most of her time at the family estate Valiant.

"What a family. Decem is nothing like them."

Raffalo nodded absentmindedly, "It's hard to see how they can be related to the King."

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It had been a week since Lady Weber's ball and Rose's anger at Saxon, and her irritation with Decem at putting her in that situation, had greatly abated.

One evening after dinner with the girls, Rose returned to her rooms and was greeted by Raffalo who told her, "A parcel was dropped off for you earlier on this afternoon."

"A parcel? From whom?"

"There was no name, but there is a note with it."

"Hmmm," her curiosity piqued Rose hurried to her bedroom to open the gift.

A large box covered in luxurious sky-blue silk and tied with a delicate cream ribbon sat in the middle of her bed.

Rose removed the note that was tucked neatly under one corner of the ribbon.

"A little gift for you to wear at the next ball. If you would be so kind as to reserve the first dance with me." An elaborate "D" ended the note.

Rose clutched the piece of paper to her chest, a radiant smile breaking out on her face.

Placing the note aside, Rose ran one hand delicately over the silk on the box's cover and opened the box with a mixture of anticipation and excitement. Packing paper in the same sky-blue colour greeted Rose and with trembling hands she unwrapped her gift.

"Oh!" Rose exclaimed in delight as dark burgundy material greeted her.

It as the dress she had been admiring in the shop window all those weeks ago.

He had remembered. Not only that but he had actually bought it for her.

Rose lifted the dress fully out of the box and held it up against her body. It looked like it would fit perfectly.

A giggle bubbled up her throat and Rose spun in a circle several times, the black ends of the new dress flaring out seductively.

Her irritation now completely gone and forgotten Rose could not wait for the ball next week.

/#/

An opportunity to wear the dress arrived a week later.

The dress was beautiful and Raffalo took extra time and care with her hair, adding in red and black coloured hair accessories.

Checking her reflection Rose's lips parted in pleasure and disbelief. She was unable to believe the transformation. She hoped Decem would see it too.

With nervous excitement Rose made her way down to one of the palace's smaller halls in which the ball would take place, passing many courtiers on her way.

She entered the hall with a newfound confidence. The new dress, one that she could never have afforded before, and the prospect of spending the whole evening dancing and talking with Decem dispelled any insecurity that Rose had had.

After a quick walk around the edge of the room Rose realised that Decem had not arrived yet. She had spotted Sally on her way around and doubled back to talk to her and Larry.

Little did Rose know that her evening was about to take a turn for the worst.

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Saxon entered the hall and smirked as he gazed around the room. He was very much looking forward to the evening ahead. He was going to have some fun and it had everything thing to do with the woman by his side.

The idea had originally been his sister's. Dearest Missy was quite the schemer when she wanted to be. It had all begun when they had heard that their young brother had taken quite a fancy to a penniless Baroness. Now, they would not have minded if it had just been a small fling, a sweet but short summer romance, but as time went on the persistent rumours had suggested that he had formed an attachment to the impoverished woman.

Saxon had come to court to verify these rumours and had most unfortunately found them to be true. He had alerted Missy to the situation as soon as he could and with unnatural speed and cunning Missy had concocted the plan. She had proposed that their brother was attracted to this upstart of a Baroness for no other reason than her somewhat pretty face. If true, then all they had to do was parade a beauty of good breeding and fortune right under his nose and he was bound to go trotting after her instead. And Missy had just the woman in mind for the scheme. She was a beautiful, rich young woman, set to inherit a sizeable fortune, with excellent family connections. Yes, Madame de Pompadour would do quite well.

And so Saxon found himself at the ball, it was for someone's birthday, but he could not be bothered to remember who's, with Madame de Pompadour on his arm trying to find his brother in the crowd. The pair made their way leisurely around the edge of the room and Saxon eventually spotted Decem.

Decem was in the midst of a group of friends chatting but noticed their approach and excused himself. The brothers greeted each other in a warm and affable manner and Saxon was quick to introduce Madame de Pompadour.

"Brother, may I present to you the lovely Madame de Pompadour."

Decem's eyes lit up as he took in Madame de Pompadour's appearance. Her golden blonde hair gracefully swept up in an up-style showing her slender neck, a bejewelled necklace that rested delicately between the swell of her breasts, the extravagantly embroidered dress that emphasised the womanly curves of her body.

"Madame, it is an honour to meet you," he simpered as he kissed her hand.

"The honour is all mine, my lord," she returned in an equally coy manner.

"How have you found palace life so far?"

"The palace is beautiful, the people are wonderful and," she gave a dramatic sigh, "so many handsome Lords."

"Oh, and have any of these 'handsome Lord's' caught your eye?"

"Well, there is one Lord in particular. Tall, slender and great hair."

They continued in this vein, becoming ever more openly flirtatious with each other. Saxon could have sworn he saw Madame de Pompadour flutter her eyelashes a number of times at Decem. They seemed to all but forget Saxon's presence and he was all too happy to silently slip away from them and leave them at it.

He grinned nefariously as he moved through the crowd. The plan could not have worked out any better; his brother was so taken by Madame de Pompadour's pretty face, large décolletage, and flirtatious manner that he would have eyes for no one else that evening. Missy really did know exactly how to manipulate the hearts and minds of men.

Saxon soon found a perfect spot near the top of the hall to survey the room and its occupants. With a drink in hand he settled himself for an amusing evening.

He did not have to wait long for his entertainment, for he soon spotted the blonde-haired Baroness through the crowd. He had to admit to himself that she looked almost pretty in that burgundy dress. It really did show off her figure to its best. He watched her progress through the crowds chatting with her friends, and every so often looking about the room, presumably for his brother. He knew the exact moment that she did spot him. Her expression was priceless, a mixture of anger, shock, and crushed hope. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes glistened, and her hands shook.

Evidently, she had become unable to continue looking at his brother and Madame du Pompadour and she looked frantically around the room as if hoping that someone would jump up and tell her it was all a joke. Unfortunately for her no one did but she did eventually spot him. He raised his glass to her in a mocking toast and nodded to her in just as sardonic a fashion as the toast. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. She turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd.

Saxon smiled to himself, well that was fun. A pity it did not last longer.

Saxon stayed at the ball for another short while. His brother and Madame du Pompadour's preference for each other was becoming noticed and whispered about but there was no further sign of the young blonde Baroness.

/#/

There was a stir across the room and Rose, Sally and Larry turned their heads along with everyone else.

"Who is that?" Sally asked as they watched Lord Saxon enter the room.

"That is Madame de Pompadour, if I am not mistaken," Larry said

Rose watched the woman on Saxon's arm with curious but cautious eyes. Beautiful, seductive, Madame de Pompadour was both of those things. She glided across the hall floor, very much aware of the stir she had created and obviously enjoying it. A gown of deepest ruby red enveloped her voluptuous body and revealing more than a hint of her cleavage.

Rose turned her back on the pair, completely uninterested in Saxon's pitiful ploy for attention. Rose and her companions resumed their discussion. After a short while Rose excused herself from the group and went to get some much-needed refreshment. Her thirst quenched she began to make her way back to Sally and Larry, stopping briefly to say hello to people she knew. She was also keeping an eye out for Decem who should have arrived by that point, although she thought to herself, if he had met up with a business acquaintance then he could be away for half the night. Rose at last made it through the crowds and gratefully rejoined her two friends. It was only a little while later that Sally, looking over Rose's shoulder, furrowed her brow and clenched her jaw.

Rose half turned and followed Sally's gaze, her own jaw clenching at what she saw. Decem and another woman standing so close together that it looked like they were about to kiss. Rose watched as an incredibly beautiful blonde woman with diamonds twined in and out of her shining hair turn her eyes suggestively up to Decem. Rose's face tightened with distaste as she looked at the glittering necklace spread across the woman's swelling breasts above the daring bodice of her ruby red gown. Madame de Pompadour.

A flood of emotions rushed through Rose, anger, shock, and broken hope. Blood pooled hot and fast in her cheeks and tears pricked at the back of her eyes glistened and her hands shook. She watched in dismay as Decem and Madame de Pompadour danced together, their behaviour really was quite scandalous. They were so close and intimate she thought they would take each other there and then on the dance floor.

Unable to bear any more Rose looked away; her eyes searching the room for something, anything that would indicate that this was just some horrid nightmare, that it was not real, that it was not happening. She found nothing; that is until she spotted Saxon. She stared at him and he raised his glass to her in a mocking toast and nodded to her in just as sardonic a fashion. Rose's eyes narrowed and she glared at him as she realised that he had set this up in bringing Madame de Pompadour to the ball. She turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd trying to reel in her emotions.

There was a smattering of applause as the music ended and the dancers began to leave the floor. Rose watched as Decem and the other woman stepped off the dance floor but stayed unbearably close to each other, clearly not willing to be separated.

There was an acid heaviness in Rose's stomach, her throat ached, and, to her annoyance, her eyes had begun to prickle with what she was afraid were burgeoning tears. She did not want him or anyone to see her cry. What kind of ninny burst into tears at a ball because the man she liked wanted to dance with another woman and not her?

To her mortification the tears that had long been threatening welled up, despite blinking furiously, one spilled down her cheek. Hastily she wiped it away. People had begun to notice, their heads moving from Rose to Decem and Madame de Pompadour. With eyes full humiliated tears, she whirled from the hall and stumbled down a corridor.

Slipping into an unoccupied room Rose leant into the closed door, her forehead pressing into the wood. She fought to regain her composure.

As the minutes went by Rose knew she could not compose herself enough to go back to the ball and instead made her way back to her rooms.

Back in the sanctuary of her bedroom Rose sank into the edge of her bed and buried her head in her hands. The tears she had been attempting to hold back spilled out down her face.

When the tears had finally dried, she struggled out of her dress throwing it in an angry heap on the floor and crawled into bed.

But she was too wound-up to sleep. She thumped her pillows, and threw off the covers, furious at Decem's heartlessness in placing her in such a position. But it was not much later that she sat up, shivering in the chill night air, and dragged the covers back over herself. The certainty that her and Decem's relationship would come to nothing filling her with a cold sense of dread. She sank back into her pillows, her eyes searching the shadowy corners of her room. How was it possible to care so much for him, yet resent his behaviour with such intensity, all at the same time?

Her mind churned and remained unsettled throughout the night.

By the time morning came, she felt wretched enough to declare to Raffalo that she intended to stay in bed for the day. Raffalo did not argue.

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