Belle du Jour {Prince x Showmeyouloveme}

Prince Valmont, heir to the Duchy of Auvergne, shifted in pain as the carriage bounced down the country lane. His seat was well padded and the carriage luxurious with ample springs, but the roads this far from Paris were so rutted and potholed that coach travel was agonizing. It was truly the country out here, and his destination was a bit further afield than most of the other noble manors he frequented in the summer. The young man would gladly trade his carriage for a good horse in a heartbeat, but of course, he couldn't be seen arriving mounted to this event so he gritted his teeth and endured, fanning himself slowly in the stifling heat.

Valmont was a tall man, still in his early twenties and most notably sporting an unruly head of youthful brown hair. He eschewed the powdered wigs worn by the older nobility, although his outfit in all other respects was in perfect, modern style. The light blue jacket he wore had a high collar and intricate gold trim on it's cuffs and buttons, while underneath a white satin vest peeked out ornamented with subtle details of dark blue threading across the front. A silk shirt hid underneath it all, fringed with lace at the sleeves that made gaudy explosions from his cuffs, while the neck had a soaring collar that his satin blue bow tie accented with a blossom-like knot. The tall, black leather boots that capped his outfit nearly covered the stockings that started at his knees. They were functional boots, more for riding than dancing, and broadcast that he was a fan of hunting and riding as much as cocktails and dinner parties. His piercing blue eyes were a family trademark, but today they stared sightlessly at the passing fields as he contemplated the upcoming party.

The estate Valmont was headed to for the week was another in the series of fetes planned by the idle, jaded gentry of Paris that fled to the countryside in the heat of summer. This event was only notable in that it marked a new entrant to the society scene in the household of the aging Marquis de Coventry. More accurately, a first entry by his new, much younger and more socially ambitious wife, Miria.

Valmont's acceptance of their invitation had caused quite a bit of a stir. He had snubbed the Marquise de Merteuil's fete this year, an act which he was sure he would hear about for weeks and for which he would need to beg forgiveness from the stylish Marquise herself. A large number of guests had followed his lead and decided to attend the Coventry's instead, among them no shortage of notable names in society. Many were curious about his decision and wondered what the Coventry's could possibly offer at their estate to tempt him. Others just wanted to make sure they were where the most amusement would be had. A new couple attempting to enter the fickle and cruel social scene, full of sharpened nails and vicious judgments, would no doubt commit gaffs and foibles that would entertain as gossip for the season.

Valmont had never divulged his real motivation, despite a flurry of questions. That the Lady Coventry herself was the temptation that called him down this bumpy road would be scandalous gossip that would spread too quickly. It was a foolish decision, Valmont decided with a sigh that drew his handsome, angular features into a frown. This would undoubtedly be a provincial and gauche fete, a country mockery of sophisticated entertainment by an old Lord that hadn't spent time in court in a decade.

And the Lady herself, well, what use seeing her now?

Valmont, however, still remembered summers years ago, in his teens, when Miria and he had spent time at the King's own country palace. Her family, much wealthier then, had been in the upper crust of French nobility. He, of course, was much more innocent in those days and their friendship had been chaste but true. Her family's fall from grace after losing their lands to debt collectors had been swift and whatever adolescent fantasies he had of marrying had been crushed just as quickly. Indeed it was a miracle that she had found a match this past year with Lord Edward Coventry, a smaller, but wealthy Lord in search of an heir after the childless death of his first wife decades ago. Valmont had read the marriage announcement with a touch of regret, he admitted, and when the Coventry invitation had come this Spring, he had been among the first to answer.

The carriage made a sharp turn and entered a better graded lane leading up to the Coventry manor. Tall, well pruned oaks lined the driveway and soon the white stone walls of the chateau itself appeared. The large building sat atop a low hill, surrounded by sheep meadows and tended gardens in bloom. Valmont was impressed by the exterior of the estate at least. Clearly the Coventry's had maintained the grounds well and the house looked respectable in size and appearance. Perhaps this wouldn't be a complete embarrassment for them.

The stone courtyard before the Chateau was filled with carriages as the guests had begun to arrive. Footmen and manservants scurried to and fro to unload the baggage. Horses and carriages were hastily being led off to the stables or the nearby meadow to await untacking. A spot opened for his carriage as he approached. His horses came to a stop as a footman ran to open his door, bowing low. Blinking in the bright sunlight, Valmont rose up to exit and his eyes fell upon his hosts. Miria and her much older husband, Edward Coventry, stood at the the steps greeting a guest that had arrived before him.

So, there she was again after all these years.

Valmont stepped out of the carriage and approached the hosts, but his eyes were only on Miria.

She was, of course, older than he remembered, but still in the flush of youth and only a year younger than him. Under that golden hat, her hair was darker now, a light brown instead of the dirty blonde he remembered as a teenager. But her locks still had a rich, silken texture that was as sensuous as he recalled.

Her gown matched her hat, shimmering white and gold in the bright sunshine, and was cut to the latest in Parisian style he noted approvingly. His eyes slid slowly down her figure, recklessly studying her even while her husband stood beside. Her bodice was pulled tight, decorated with golden flowers that invited his eye to linger, and shaped a seductively narrow waist that highlighted the curves above and below She had filled in quite nicely from the skinny girl that Valmont had played with years ago. He found her more gorgeous than he had imagined.

A wild rose in this country garden, ripe for his plucking.

But why did he feel slightly ashamed of that thought now? He'd bedded hundreds of women over the years and she was just another delicious potential conquest. What were women to him but playthings and sources of amusement in his otherwise tedious court life?

As she spoke to him, Valmont looked up and stared into her deep blue eyes, they sparkled in her powdered and rouged face. It was a face he remembered so well as being the first girl he had ever desired. He drank in the familiar, delicate features, those pouty lips, high cheekbones and the perfect, narrow chin. Taking her outstretched hand in one of his, he let his fingertips touch hers ever so lightly. He made a deep bow to her and never took his eyes from hers as he kissed the back of her palm. He lingered a little longer than might be proper and his lips were parted on her flesh ever so slightly, letting her feel the warmth and moisture of his breath on her skin.

"My dear lady, it has been so long. The sight of you has made any inconvenience of travel worth it. I look forward to the hospitality of your house and the enjoyment of your company once again," Valmont answered with a rakish grin as he straightened. He tore his eyes away to give a smile to the aging Lord with whom she was now wed, well into his fifties and with a waist as large in relative appearance as his lady's was small.

"And my good Lord Coventry, or Marquis de Coventry in our lands," he said with a small bow. "How kind of you to host this fete at your lovely estate and how pleased I am to be able to attend."

Valmont motioned with his hand to the grounds and chateau, but his eyes danced to Miria briefly before returning to face the Lord. "I see now why you have kept such wonderful delights as you possess at this estate safely hidden from the vulgar beasts of our French court. I look forward to sampling the pleasures of your household and drinking deep of the fine vintage blondes I hear you stock in your cellar." This last he said with twinkling eyes and a small wink, unseen by the Lord, directed at Miria.

Lord Coventry gave a stuffy, awkward reply, French not being his first language and obviously uncomfortable and unskilled at entertaining beyond the hunting parties he favored. Valmont gave them both a final bow and strode off, grin on his face.

His mind had been made up at first sight. He had to finally taste the nectar he had so desperately longed for in his innocent youth. The girl would be his, her husband be damned. At the same time, an unfamiliar emotion roiled in his stomach and he wondered what strange hold his youthful infatuation still had on him that we would feel any discomfit at the idea of trysting with her?

The downside of a party like the Coventry's was that seemingly anyone could get invited. While there were plenty of familiar faces, Valmont had never seen at least half the crowd that gathered in the garden for the pre-dinner refreshment. Undoubtably, many minor nobles and unfashionable houses had seized the opportunity to attend a party that was rumored to have some of the more elite circles of court attending. Judging by some of their outdated fashions and cheap gowns, Valmont guessed many had not been to a high class fete in years.

The worst were the older women, particularly the minor nobility that swarmed and tried to make his acquaintance with little tact and droll conversation. Valmont was in fact cornered at this moment by three matronly women in dresses that had last been in fashion over a decade earlier. They were shamelessly describing their various daughters' virtues--- singing, dancing, art, cooking, beauty, etc.--- like merchants might hawk their wares at a street market. Why not take a shot at an unlikely increase in social class by piquing the bachelor Prince's interest?

"Ladies... Ladies.. please," interrupted Valmont, hands raising in surrender after one of them began describing her daughter's study in Italy. "I'm sure your fruit is delightful, but I need to feel the melon, taste the peach, and bite the cherry, so to say, to really judge its worth. Pray bring them to the luncheon tomorrow and I'm sure I'd be most pleased to make their acquaintance."

With a curt, but pointed bow, Valmont excysed himself and took another glass of Champagne from a passing waiter. In the unlikely event one of these daughters was actually attractive, he would be true to his word. Although, he scanned the crowd with a frown, his two best friends would likely compete strenuously for the privilege of a young virgin's intimate acquaintance.

Where were Bertrand and Guillame? They were arriving later he believed, but still he thought they should be here by now. Valmont's closest companions shared his reputation as a womanizing playboy, but as fellow scions from noble and wealthy houses, they still found plenty of game from women that tolerated their advances in the hope they might find a marital match. As of yet, plundering women of their virginity or honor if married was the only game the three companions were interested in playing, with love and matrimony despised afflictions of weaker men.

Instead of his roguish friends, Valmont instead spied Miria entertaining some of her guests. Her eldery husband did not appear to be around and Valmont grinned. The man was a poor hunter if he knew not to watch his chicken when foxes were on the prowl.

"Madame," interrupted Valmont, hopefully saving Miria from a boring conversation with an older couple. Beckoning her slightly away, he added. "If I may beg your pardon with an urgent request."

"My request was for a more interesting conversation, at least more so than the one you seemed to trapped in," said Valmont once they were out of earshot. Offering her his arm, he nodded towards the hedge maze. "Would you indulge me with a private conversation. I know you have obligations as the hostess, but a quick stroll with an old friend to catch up seems a fitting reward to yourself for all the work and stress this fete has likely caused?"

Valmont gave her a welcoming smile, staring deep into her blue eyes. His pulse quickened as he drank in her beauty yet again, but his stomach roiled slightly and another emotion, unfamiliar and strange in this situation also flooded him. How could he feel nervous? She was another tart that he would seduce. Easy prey in fact from their former affection.

Odd.

"Not that.. my room is delightful, although the bed is quite large," Valmont replied for the older couple's benefit before he led Miria out of their earshot.

If you only know what a devil I've truly become.

Valmont wondered how much of his womanizing reputation she was aware of these days. She had been out of France for many years. Perhaps she hadn't heard of the scandals and numerous rumored liasons. Then again, why did it worry him at all what she thought of him now?

"I look forward to even more time with you then, after dinner," replied Valmont, noting her mention that her husband would not be present. Was she hinting, unprompted, that she might be available later? Normally, the thought would excite him, but now he wondered if she had changed as well. Part of him expected some more fidelity, but who knows, he had met many a wife that flirted outrageously, but still refused to part her thighs when the moment came for escalation.

"Lost with you? Alone for a long-time? That doesn't sound awful," joked Valmont as he led her with his elbow into the tall hedges of the labryrinth. The din of the garden party muted as they entered the maze, finding the paths already dark with the shadows caused by the early evening sun. "I'm sure your guests will send a search party to find you as your glowing presence will be missed before long."

"It has been many years since we last saw each other. I think the last time might have been in a garden similar to this. I remember chasing you in a game through the rose bushes and gravel paths, full of laughter," spoke Valmont as they strolled. It was a simple memory, but one that send a wave of nostalgia through his body. He'd been so young, so innocent back then. This was before he learned the true nature of women and of the lie called love. Swallowing, Valmont pushed the strange bubbling of emotions he was feeling down again. Focus on this woman now, not that girl from years ago. "And how are you now, Miria? Are you... happy?"

Valmont let Miria guide him, enjoying hearing her voice more than he had expected. She had grown, matured certainly, but the young girl he had been infatuated with still appeared in flashes, such as her smile, the tilt of her head when listening, and most of all in her laugh. It was a strange feeling, certainly different than the normal lust and desire he felt when in private with an attractive lady.

"I was the frog, I think, awkward and bumbling," replied Valmont, laughing. Indeed, he had been quite foolish, especially about girls, in those years. Silly, stupid, and foolishly romantic certainly. "I hoped to find a girl willing to kiss me, but alas, they only saw my warts and ran away, leaving me to hop after them!"

"Your home is gorgeous, I agree. Certainly all your material needs are met, now," replied Valmont, pausing in the heart of the maze and reaching out to hold her hand with one of his. Staring at her, he watched her speak carefully, letting her know he heard and thought through every word of her reply. "And your husband? The Lord Coventry treats you well?"

"I've had a wonderful life, in many ways, but also empty," replied Valmont, turning slightly away and forcing his eyes downward briefly. These lines he'd planned, an act to tug her heartstrings, but the there was uncomfortable truth behind them he realized as he spoke them out loud finally and face to face with Miria. "Travel, parties, court, hunting, fine wine and finer food. Loud, busy and active, yet something is missing. The joy I had in youth, those summers with you. I miss those times, the simple innocence. Do you as well?"

In the background a bell tolled, signaling dinner and calling all guests to be seated.

Valmont noticed Miria's stiffness when he brought up her husband, the woman pulling her hand away and suddenly appearing more guarded. Her words were chosen carefully, it seemed, and the subject visibly uncomfortable despite her platitudes of contentment. No complaints, but no praises either. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with a husband that loved his hounds more than his wife would be a lonely life.

Valmont felt sympathy for her, strangely. He'd normally just be delighted at the opportunity that lurked beneath her words. Was he getting soft... letting their past affect his current desires?

"No complaints, that is well," replied Valmont. A wolf like grin came to his face. "A bit bored in the country it seems. Who doesn't want a little excitement in their life? Mayhap I can provide some."

Miria's voice grew soft as she brought up her family's circumstances and their departure from court. Clearly still an emotional and likely embarrassing part of her life. To be so close to the peak of society that she could see the mountaintop, and then tumble as far as they had must have scarred her. Well, she was climbing again it seemed. Wealthy and landed at least, with respectability and fashionability as her next goals no doubt. Women were all the same, Valmont rued, trying again to push the young girl he remembered out of his mind. She is just like the others. Still, the idea that Miria was like all the others made him irritated.

"Yes, we mustn't make the others tongues wag at our absence," replied Valmont as they began the walk back out. "I'm sure my Father will continue to seek a match, although he gives me the liberty of some input. No doubt, whoever I wind up with, it will be a political or economic arrangement rather than a woman I'd choose for love. No matter your station, it seems, marriage for one such as us becomes just a tool for family advancement rather than happiness."

He spoke the words out with a touch of melancholy, playing up his apparent unhappiness and building empathy with what he thought Miria viewed her own situation. Let her think that perhaps they were in the same boat, society conspiring to prevent them from finding love.

"Wouldn't it be nice to find happiness for ourselves once in a while?"

Valmont almost welcomed the bright lights and buzzing din of the party as they left the darkened labyrinth. The shadowed walk had made his spirit dark for some odd reason. He'd merely been manipulating the woman's emotions like he'd done to hundreds of girls before her, planting seeds that now he'd water diligently to harvest later in the fete. Why should he feel guilty at all? Valmont buried these silly thoughts and reminded himself that she was easy prey. He didn't have romantic feelings for women, after all, they were just toys to be enjoyed and discarded.

In the garden, two familiar faces appeared and Valmont gave his companions a wave as he turned to Miria.

"Ahh, Madame, it was a delight to walk with you again. I look forward to continuing our conversation tonight. But for now, if you'll please accept my apologies, I have spied two of my old friends and need a word with them before dinner," spoke Valmont with a frown of sadness. An elegant bow followed, Valmont pressing another lingering kiss on the soft skin of the back of her hand. "Adieu."

"Valmont, you scoundrel! Already sneaking off with the lady of the house!" joked Bertrand, a blonde haired and stocky man fond of wine, food, and women. "You waste no time. Now that I've seen her, I know exactly why you dragged us to this low class affair."

"I remember this girl. She was the one you doted on in your youth," added Guillame, a brown haired and tall man that was lithe and skinny in contrast to Bertrand. He had a bit more tact and discretion, but was equally prone to womanizing. These were Valmont's closest companions and enablers of his rampant debauchery over the last several years. Guillame leaned in to elbow Valmont, "I do hope you have gotten over that embarrassing crush. God you followed her like a puppy."

Miria was safely out of earshot, but Valmont glanced over his shoulder out of caution before raising his arms to soothe the pair.

"She is as fetching as I remember, but I'm not an innocent youth anymore," Valmont said with a cocky grin. "We had a stroll tonight, but the next path we walk will lead under her skirts, I assure you."

"That sounds like a betting proposition? The usual terms?" countered Guillame, raising an eyebrow. He was friends with Valmont during those days and seemed suspicious, as if challenging whether Valmont would treat her as he did his other trysts. Seeing Valmont hesitate, if only for a second, he pushed, "If not you, then Bertrand or I will take the terms with pleasure and tell you how she is in bed."

"Of course, the usual terms. 100 francs to me when I take her honor," said Valmont cooly, giving Guillame an imperious stare.

"And... you will tell her you only fucked her because of a bet?" added Bertrand, picking up on Guillame's suspicions. He didn't know the history, but gleaned that perhaps Valmont might not be his normal self with this woman.

"Of course. She is nothing to me," said Valmont, grinning casually as he felt his stomach roil. Together they proceeded towards the dinner, his friends resuming their banter as Valmont felt a strange regret at his decision to come to this party.

"Good, Valmont. Well then you must help Bertrand and I find our targets for this fete. I hear the Comtessa De Lacroix's youngest daughter is making her first appearance...."

--------

Guillame was seated with Valmont at Miria's head table and they both toasted her words with broad smiles. It was a wonderful spread and she had managed, against all odds, to pull off an elegant and fashionable meal for the first time she hosted a party. Clearly, her years of good upbringing were not forgotten and in any other situation, Valmont would laud the woman for her social ambitions and display of taste in this event. Tonight he looked around and wondered why she bothered. Why did she want to enter the vain, superficial, catty, and ultimately, meaningless life of court that he was forced to dwell in? To live in the country, granted with a better match than her current Lord, didn't seem so bad in contrast.

"Marquise de Coventry, or may I call you Miria?" asked Guillame as the food was served and wine refreshed. "Perhaps you recall me from our youth. I wasn't at court often then, but I was friends with Valmont. It was hard to pry him from your side I remember. Do tell, where is the Lord Coventry? Is he ill?"