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Joffrey was sitting at a massive oak bureau and looking through the letters that had arrived in the morning when Angelique rushed into his office, cheeks flushed from her earlier ride, and asked cheerfully:
"What's the news, darling?"
He looked up at his wife and smiled. She was incredibly good at riding, a lithe, slender Amazon with slightly disheveled golden curls and sparkling emerald eyes. Taking off her gloves and throwing them casually on an elegant table by the door, she quickly crossed the room and touched his lips with a light kiss.
Joffrey showed her the letter he was holding:
"It's from Molin."
Angelique straightened and crossed her arms over her chest.
"And what does he write?"
“I see you are not so fond of him,” the count commented, laughing. "But it is to him we owe our today's happiness, after all."
“He takes too much on himself and interferes in matters that do not concern him,” Angelique replied sharply. Her former anger suddenly revived. She remembered how, until recently, she had fought desperately with her father and manager, wanting to avoid a hated marriage with a Toulouse sorcerer.
Her husband got up and drew her closer.
"Honey, what's wrong with you?"
"Nothing, it doesn't matter... What does he want, anyway? Is he offering another great deal? " Angelique inquired sarcastically.
"Come on, dear, where does this irony come from?" the count looked at her reproachfully and shook his head. "No. He writes that the Marquis du Plessis-Bellier has recently passed away and the estate was inherited by his son, Philippe. I do not think that this news in any way can affect our common business with him, but Molin decided to inform me about what happened."
"Philip ..." Angelique echoed, and memories from her childhood suddenly fell upon her - her furious quarrel with the young handsome marquis in Montellou, his contemptuous mockery "Baroness of a dull dress" and the ridicule of stupid pages in Plessis, her trembling hand in his hand...
Joffrey saw his wife's eyes suddenly darken as she bit her lower lip slightly.
"Do you know each other?"
"Yes... A little... Philippe du Plessis is my cousin, and we saw each other several times in childhood... And I can't say that these meetings made me happy."
The Count looked at her mockingly.
"Now, now, dear. It seems to me that there is something else. Come on, admit it, dear, that you liked the young marquis!"
Angelique flushed and said indignantly:
"What nonsense! Of course, I didn't! Angry, arrogant boy he was! He laughed cruelly at me and my family when he was passing through our castle, and then again... It seemed to me that I never hated anyone so much in my life... " she gestured with her hand. "However, it doesn't matter, it was all a very long time ago..."
"And nevertheless, you are still offended and indignant. It seems to me that you not only liked your cousin, but you were also in love with him." Joffrey was already laughing openly. "Was he at least handsome?"
"Incredibly handsome. Never in my life have I seen such a handsome young man. But at the same time, he was arrogant and terribly rude to me. But you're right. Perhaps I was in love with him. A little..."
"Only a little? You are just lovely! So, I was not the first to conquer your proud heart?" the count smiled, but Angelique felt his excitement.
She lowered her eyelashes. Her husband's hands tightened around her waist.
"Come on, madam, answer," his voice trembled slightly.
Angelique threw her arms around his neck and looked at his suddenly grave face. He had never looked at her like that before. Or she just didn’t notice.
"Monsignor, you are jealous!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I just love it!" and her voice rang with tenderness and happiness overwhelming her.
"A little," Joffrey smiled. "Oh, beautiful lady, you pretty much tormented me before giving me your favor, and now I involuntarily ask myself - was not your handsome cousin the reason for this?"
"God, I was so stupid! You must hate me.” she looked down in embarrassment.
"If you remember how many misfortunes I have endured because of you, it is difficult to believe that I do not hold a grudge against you. But I can’t take offense at you,” he answered softly, brushing his lips against her hair. "My life is you."
She pressed closer to him. He loved her. He loved so much that he was even jealous! Never, even in her wildest dreams, could she imagine such a thing. His love always seemed to her something incredible, enchanting, an exceptional gift of fate, and she secretly feared that one day he would leave her and go to conquer new heights... From time to time, burning jealousy for his past awoke in her, which amused her husband... But now he himself was jealous.
She raised on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
“You are my only love, dear senor,” she whispered softly. "And so it will always be, as long as my heart beats..."
The End.