Duc René

Born into a once-prestigious French aristocratic family, René de Villeneuve seemed destined for greatness—or at least grandeur. The Villeneuve family had clung to their noble title through three generations of dwindling wealth and strategic alliances. René’s paternal grandparents, Duc Alaric de Villeneuve and Duchesse Marguerite de Villeneuve (née Lenoir), lived in a decaying estate, maintaining the illusion of nobility long after the fortune was gone.

René’s father, Étienne de Villeneuve, changed the family’s fortunes by secretly marrying Isabelle de Fontenay, daughter of the powerful Marquise Geneviève and Marquis Honoré de Fontenay. To avoid scandal, the couple disguised their marriage as a quiet sendoff before Étienne’s military deployment—an arrangement protecting both families' reputations. Isabelle bore their child, René, and was expected to quietly return to Paris.

After the death of Isabelle’s father, she returned to the Villeneuve estate with her son. The affection once shown to her by her in-laws quickly vanished, replaced by stiff formality. Isolated and disillusioned, she moved in with her widowed aunt, Madame Heloise de Bressac, in the Loire Valley.

Tragedy struck again. Étienne died of consumption, followed swiftly by the passing of the elder Villeneuves. René, still a teenager, inherited his family’s title, estates, and what remained of their dwindling fortune. Having retired his mother to her childhood home on a quiet stipend, René faced the cutthroat world of French nobility alone.

René fell into a whirlwind of gambling, drinking, and reckless spending after his mother passed. As the French Revolution swept through the country, René’s fortune evaporated—and so did any future he had in Paris. With barely enough money to survive, he fled to Saint-Domingue hoping to secure a wealthy Creole bride.

Instead, he met Sabine.

Clever, passionate, and entangled in the island’s growing unrest, Sabine represented everything René didn’t expect. What began as a desperate attempt to restore his name pulled him into the heart of Saint-Domingue’s revolutionary undercurrent.

As the old saying goes: You make plans, and God laughs.