The day in Paris
He sat in his plush apartment, the one he shared with his wife, or rather shared with her when they were in the same place at the same time. Somehow they'd managed to grow further apart, grow distant. This was not surprising really, many couples either learned to love each other or grow apart when arranged marriages were set up. Henri -Armand's was no exception.
Henri-Armand should have been working, instead he let his mind wander, past the ledgers and receipts, back years to days when he first saw his wife. It was when the Tancarvilles and Gramonts were trying to become closer, to forge family ties. Of course the logical choice to marry off was Frederic-Louis to Gabrielle-Marie, much to her protest. Though a few years younger, Henri-Armand was ambitious and driven, wanting Gabrielle-Marie for his wife. He knew that he would have to work hard to sway his father's ear to get her as his. Yet he knew at the time he could, he was skilled with persuasion, where Frederic-Louis was not. He remembered the day clearly, when he smooth talked his father into the match between himself and Gabrielle-Marie. It was no easy matter as not only was she older than himself, but their father really wanted to marry off Frederic-Louis after the last fiasco with a maid that resulted in them paying the girl off to take her child and leave Normandy for good, shipping her off to those slimy Britons to the north. He frowned at the thought of those heathens and how they shunned god. He wrinkled his nose and grunted at the thoughts, then relaxed. Not that it was bad to have a mistress, of course Henri-Armand had one as well. A nice Parisian noble who's husband was busy doing whatever that she would spread her legs for him anytime he wished, even though his wife Gabrielle-Marie was more than capable in bed and quite wild too. His issue was how skittish his wife acted around him and how he'd disappointed him time and time again in not being able to carry a baby to term. The last time he'd left her room in disgust, slamming the door behind him. What use was she if she could not produce an heir for the family.
He sighed and stood, walking to the window to look out over the streets. Late summer in Paris was pleasant this year, the clouds from the day before had gone away and there was a cool breeze. "Perhaps my wife, I should pay you a call." He said to himself, turning to call his Valet. "Pack my bags, I should go see my wife for a time. Cancel my appointments this week and reschedule them for next month. I need a break from the city before the weather turns." His valet bows and goes to do as bidden. "If only I could get you to come here... away from the country." He shrugs. "All the better my mistress does not see my wife." He laughs and goes back to his desk, finishing up his work.