Blois, 1705. The château of Duc Hugo d’Amboise simmers with rivalry and intrigue. Henriette d’Augustin, one of five mistresses of the duc, lives at the chateau with her daughter. When the duc’s wife, Duchesse Charlotte, maliciously undermines a new mistress, Letitia, Henriette is forced to choose between position and morality. She fights to maintain her status whilst targeted by the duchesse who will do anything to harm her enemies. The arrival of charismatic tarot reader, Romain de Villiers, further escalates tensions as rivals in love and domestic politics strive for supremacy. In a society where status is a matter of life and death, Henriette must stay true to herself, her daughter, and her heart, all the while hiding a painful secret of her own. 'A historically authentic and intelligently crafted period drama that's romantically stirring.'--Kirkus Reviews 'Vividly recreates the lives, loves and fears of aristocratic women at the turnof the 18th century. Intrigues, jealousies, and the terror of beingdependant on the whims of a selfish duc...the ladies of the chateau arebrought alive in Kate Murdoch's fascinating second novel.' --Pamela Hart,author of The Desert Nurse 'The Orange Grove reveals all the elegance and exquisite intrigue of the French court, seen through the eyes of the women. Mistresses and wives, duchesses and daughters - their lives and fortunes depend on their skills at plotting, spying, and manipulating - each other. Their interwoven stories are vivid, fabulously vicious, and always compelling.' --Kelly Gardiner, author of Goddess Kate Murdoch exhibited widely as a painter both in Australia and internationally before turning her hand to writing. Her short-form fiction has been published in literary journals in Australia, UK, US and Canada. Her debut novel, Stone Circle , was on the semi-finalist list for the Chaucer Awards 2018 for pre-1750’s historical fiction. She was awarded a KSP Fellowship to develop her third novel, The Glasshouse . She lives in Melbourne with her husband and two children. The Orange Grove By Kate Murdoch Regal House Publishing, LLC Copyright © 2019 Kate Murdoch All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-947548-22-0 CHAPTER 1 Blois, 1705 On a winter morning, Solange saw the mist of her breath. She blew on the windows, making a cloudy canvas for her finger. The maid had come just after dawn to stoke the fire and bring hot chocolate. She had swished open the silk drapes, letting in muted light. Solange's mother, Henriette, disliked mornings and was attended by a number of maids, who helped her through the early hours. Solange slept in a small anteroom next to her mother's, their rooms at the rear of the château, reached by a narrow, twisting staircase. After the maid had opened the drapes, Solange would rush to her mother's dressing table, eager to be included in Henriette's morning routine. For her mother would spend hours in a gilded chair — her hair coaxed into ringlets, powdered and pinned, her cheeks rouged, her lips painted. Solange stood at the window and stared out at the private courtyard, enclosed by tall hedges and visible only to her and her mother. Gardeners kept the hedges trimmed but left the potted plants to wither, their leaves shrivelling over their terracotta surrounds in search of water. Frost sparkled on the hedges in the weak sun. Solange wondered if Tomas might chase her through the hedge maze as he had the day before, or if they might skate together on the frozen canals. She rubbed her arms against the chill as she sidled closer to her mother's skirts. 'Go and play. This can't possibly interest you,' Henriette urged with a smile, reaching over to tuck a stray lock of her daughter's hair behind her ear. 'But it does interest me, Maman. I want to learn how it's done.' 'I'm sure if you go and find Tomas, he'll play with you. Your eyes are boring into the back of my head.' Henriette raised her eyebrows as she turned to examine her daughter. Solange's dress had been chosen for its comfortable fit and plain blue linen. Her hair, barely contained by a white ribbon, was tangled and unruly. 'I'll have to speak to your maid. You're not dressed appropriately. Again.' 'It's my fault, Maman. I insisted on this dress. Lots of playing to do today,' she said with an impish smile. 'Let me kiss you.' Henriette leaned over and kissed Solange's forehead. 'Now you may go. Try not to get so dirty.' Solange let herself out and climbed the staircase to a vast hallway. Creeping along, she placed her feet with care in the middle of the parquetry flowers on the floor. She had been reprimanded by the duc's valet for galloping, causing the glassware in the hall cabinet to tinkle. The silk sash of Solange's dress trailed behind her, having escaped her mother's attention. Above was a curved ceiling, where cherubs cavorted, their delicate wings as light as clouds. Solange imagined they watched her as she twirled on each blossoming flower and stood on tiptoe on e