{"product_id":"courtesan-isbn-9781400051748","title":"Courtesan","description":"Amid the disapproving gossip of the Court, a royal romance defies all obstacles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Court of François I is full of lust, intrigue, and bawdy bon temps—a different world from the quiet country life Diane de Poitiers led with her elderly husband. Now a widow, the elegant Diane is called back to Court, where  the King’s obvious interest marks her as an enemy to the King’s favourite, Anne d’Heilly. The Court is soon electrified by rumors of their confrontations. As Anne calls on her most venomous tricks to drive Diane away, Diane finds an ally in the one member of Court with no allegiance to the King’s mistress: his teenage second son, Henri. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNeglected by his father and disliked by his brothers, Prince Henri expects little from his life. But as his friendship with Diane deepens into infatuation and then a romance that scandalizes the Court, the Prince begins to discover hope for a future with Diane. But fate and his father have other plans for Henri—including a political marriage with Catherine de Medici. Despite daunting obstacles, Henri’s devotion to Diane never wanes; their passion becomes one of the most legendary romances in the history of France.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAlso available as an eBook“Riveting . . . I guarantee you’ll stay awake nights not being able to put this book down.” —\u003ci\u003eAffaire de Coeur\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Spectacular . . . The story of a remarkable woman and her clash with society . . . Lush in characterization and rich in historical detail.” —\u003ci\u003eRomantic Times\u003c\/i\u003eDiane Haeger is the author of four previous historical novels, including \u003ci\u003eThe Ruby Ring\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eMy Dearest Cecilia\u003c\/i\u003e. She lives in California with her husband and family.1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    In dawn's semidarkness, she stood ankle deep and motionless at the   river's edge, her tall silhouette blending with the bare white elms   which braided through the cloudless winter sky over   Beaumont-sur-Sarthe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The pungent aroma of wood smoke from village chimneys mixed with damp   earth and laced the air near the shore as she plunged naked into the   icy water. She felt the chill, sharp like needles, as it quickly   turned her skin to gooseflesh, but to Diane, discipline was sacred.   Defiantly, she moved deeper into the rapid current. She finally came   to the surface, water dripping from her hair and face, and her   alabaster skin glimmering with the sheen of early morning light on   water. A flock of geese flew in precision above her, but made no   sound. In this state of meditative peace, she bathed alone until the   thoughts returned and her mind began once again, to echo the fear.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    It is too late . . . You cannot turn back now . . . You have come too far . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Since she always bathed at dawn, Diane reached the inn just as the   royal coachmen were loading the first of her brocade-covered trunks   back onto the King's coach. Six of His Majesty's best Spanish   stallions swayed as two of the guards attached them to a tooled   silver harness. At least four of the animals were required to pull   the awkward lumbering vehicle. Diane grimaced at the prospect of   another long ride in it. The price of the King's hospitality, she   reminded herself, and looked away. Before her in the cobblestone   courtyard, two mongrel dogs fought over a scrap of meat. They had   garnered all of the attention from the velvet-tuniced coachmen so   that she could return unnoticed from the river. She said a silent   prayer and slipped past them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Clothed only in a thin cambric dressing gown, she slid through the   paneled door. The musty smell of dried wine on scarred oak tables   dizzied her, but she crept steadily toward the staircase. In the   candlelit shadows she heard laughter, then the faint sound of   whispers. A man's voice; then a woman's. She passed quickly, not   wanting to hear them. Not today. When she finally reached the welcome   privacy of her room, she closed the door and leaned against it to   catch her breath. She let the wet dressing gown fall to the floor   around muddied feet and ran her hands through the full masses of wet   blond hair. As she sank onto the tousled bed covers, she sighed. Is   it really too late to turn back?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The King's driver had misjudged the distance and his error had forced   them, in the dark of night, to surrender to the only room and the   only inn left for miles. In the center of the small room was a large   soot-smudged fireplace with a chipped stone hearth. Next to it was a   bed hung with tattered blue tapestried bedcurtains. Hewn beams and a   spray of cobwebs decorated the walls. From the single latched window   came a ribbon of daylight and the shouts of an old woman as she   kicked the two dogs in the courtyard below.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The fire sputtered and crackled. It was nearly out. Diane felt the   chill again but this time it passed through her as Charlotte padded   into the room, carrying a large speckled-blue pitcher full of water.   She found her mistress staring hypnotically into the last glowing   embers of the fire, her skin nearly blue with the cold.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Pray God, Madame! You're close to freezing!\" she declared in a heavy   peasant voice. She slapped the pitcher onto an old oak bureau then,   in a brisk maternal sweep, covered Diane with the remaining heap of   bedcovers. \"Swimming in that river is madness, Madame. If you don't   freeze, you're sure to die of the pox!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    There was a long silence between them as Charlotte gathered up the   fine Dutch linen undergarments from a trunk at the foot of the bed.   Diane watched her, the complex network of wrinkles on Charlotte's   full face now highlighted in the gray light from the window. Her kind   face was a comfort this morning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Another servant entered the room in soundless velvet slippers,   carrying in one hand a large silver jewelry casket; in the other, a   freshly starched headdress. \"I have spoken to His Majesty's coachman,   Madame,\" said Helene, in a wispy childlike voice. \"He expects we   shall reach Court by midday.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Diane nodded but said nothing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Have you decided what you shall wear when you are introduced once   again to His Majesty?\" Charlotte asked. \"If I might suggest, the   moire silk, or the velvet are both splendid.\" Confident that her   suggestion would be heeded, she did not wait for a reply. She padded   with heavy labored steps, back to one of the trunks that lay open,   beneath the small latched window. This trunk, like the others already   on the coach, was lined with an assortment of silks, furs, petticoats   and headdresses.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"It must be perfect. Simple. Solemn. I can afford no mistake in   this.\" She paused a moment, and brushed her slender fingers across   her slim white throat. \"Prepare the velvet with the white lace   collar.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Wrapped in the bedcovers, Diane moved silently to the hearth and a   small petit-point hassock. Helene opened the jewelry case and   arranged a selection of necklaces and rings. Charlotte laid the   chosen gown across the bed near the stockings and underskirt. She   smoothed out each article with her short rough hands as Helene moved   to the fire to add a few sticks of kindling. A blaze quickly took   hold and gold flames licked the walls of the tiny room. The elements   of their mistress's costume now in place, Charlotte took up the   pearl-handled comb from the table by the bed. With firm, even   strokes, she began to untangle the partially drying tendrils of   Diane's thick blond hair.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    When it was nearly dry, she stood. She could put it off no longer.   She must dress. It was an elaborate ritual of camouflage Diane   detested. First her breasts were tightly bound. Then her hips were   flattened. She was covered next in a long-sleeved blue shift; then a   heavy leather corset. A bell-shaped canvas underskirt followed white   jersey hose, and finally, her gown. It was simple black velvet with a   low square neckline. Across it, Charlotte hung a heavy rope of   pearls. The long cuffs, trumpet shaped, were turned back. Their   lining was marten fur. She would change into the more formal gown   later, after they had been received at Court. His Court.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The dressing of her hair followed. The silky blond waves that fell   uncurled down her back were pulled sharply away from her face, pinned   and then hidden beneath a black silk bonnet. Slowly, the tall,   sensual animal who had come up out of the river was transformed into   the picture of nobility. She stood still as the folds in her veil   were straightened. Her gown was brushed. Gown, headdress and   slippers; they all must be perfect. But no cosmetics . . . never any   cosmetics.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    When the dressing ritual was complete, Charlotte stepped back and   studied Diane as though she were a painting. She held the point of   her chin between two fingers, her heavy brows fused in a frown. \"If   you are not certain about this, Madame, we can just as easily send   word to His Majesty that you have fallen ill on your journey. It   would be simple enough to tell him that we were required to return   home.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The tender concern of the old woman calmed the edges of her own dark   fear. She looked at her maid, the hulking body, the skin hanging in   aging ruffles from her neck, and her eyes, deep and sincere. Diane   smiled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"It will be all right, Charlotte. Five years is a long time. You   shall see. With everything that goes on at Court, people should   scarcely remember.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    She spoke with conviction, but her words masked a fear greater than   she could admit, even to herself. Five years. Who would recall? Five   years since the scandal which had rocked the Court and sent her and   her husband, Louis, back to Anet to wait out his last days in   informal exile. Now Louis was dead and the King had invited her to   return.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    His Majesty's coach swayed and plunged as the royal guard led the way   toward Blois. Inside, Diane and her servants were battered about the   dark, stale-smelling cabin. Charlotte, with her red-gray curls   beneath a crimson hood, dozed on Helene's shoulder. Diane looked   across at them, relieved that she had a few moments to herself. Her   head fell back against the red damask cushion as she looked out   across the winter landscape of Touraine. The forest was dotted with   bare elm trees and patches of melting snow. Across the plowed   colorless fields were thatched houses and occasionally a small   country church.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Dizzied by the sight and by the fear, she took a small mirror from   her velvet handbag and raised it to her face. Gently she rubbed her   hand across her cheek. The image that met her was not that of a great   beauty. Her nose was too long and her eyes were too deeply set. But   her skin was clear and she had a serene elegance, which had always   caused people to notice her. Life had been kind. She was certain she   did not look anywhere near thirty-one. Her body was still firm and   strong and she needed no cosmetics with which to mask herself. She   was convinced that daily cold baths held one of the many secrets of   youth. In a society where water carried plagues and many were bathed   only at birth, after childbirth, and after death, there were few who   understood her love of so dangerous a ritual. Yet in spite of the   gossip and the stern objections of everyone who knew, Diane continued   to bathe every day.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    She took a breath and closed her eyes. The sharp clop of hooves on   the cobbled road beat to the steady rhythm of her heart. She had made   her decision to return to Court. She would face her past . . . she   must. So much had changed in these last six months. So much was   changing. After a moment, she twirled the wedding ring on her finger.   Then, without a thought, she took it from one hand and put it onto   the next. It was time to start living again.","brand":"Crown","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303602868453,"sku":"NP9781400051748","price":19.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781400051748.jpg?v=1767724185","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/courtesan-isbn-9781400051748","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}