The Chevalier (Châteaux and Shadows) by Philippa Lodge Read Free Book Online

days.”
    Monsieur Emmanuel shrugged. “If I weren’t traveling with you, Jacques and I would make the entire trip in a single day. Do you think I’m not tired of traveling, too? I would be in Paris tonight, see my mother, spend a day with her, and then travel back.”
    “One day with your mother is enough after you haven’t seen her for three years?” Ungrateful child.
    Monsieur Emmanuel shrugged again. “She chose it, not I. I’ve been to my father’s home and visited Dom and Aurore several times since I moved to Poitou. I was even in Paris, but she wrote to not come see her at Versailles. She apparently doesn’t wish to see me even now.”
    His blasé manner made her stare in surprise. Perhaps the baronesse was an ungrateful mother. Catherine shrugged, trying to pretend her patroness’s neglect of her family didn’t bother her. No matter what the baronesse said about any of them, they had been kind and considerate to Catherine while she was in the baron’s country home.
    And maybe Monsieur Emmanuel wasn’t the neglectful one. He might be confused and bitter, but he had rushed to his mother when she was ill and was even now anxious to reach her.
    Catherine felt a wave of guilt for slowing him down, but also a strange sort of tenderness for the devoted son. It was just as well she didn’t know what to say, because Monsieur Emmanuel walked away to speak to the inn’s proprietor.
    ****
    When the sun was low in the sky, they pulled into yet another inn yard. Catherine was exhausted, starving, in desperate need of a chamber pot, and, as if that weren’t enough, had a headache and felt sorry for herself. A footman handed her down, and she and the maid rushed into the inn. Marie giggled as they rushed out the back door to the privies. Outdoor privies for a lady! And Monsieur Emmanuel calls this place perfectly nice?
    Her outrage was outweighed by her fatigue and hunger. “Eat well tonight, Marie, and then only bread and tea in the morning.”
    The girl nodded solemnly as the innkeeper led Catherine to a small table in a secluded alcove. “There’s no private dining room?” She addressed the innkeeper, but glared at Monsieur Emmanuel.
    “I am sorry, Madame. The only private sitting room was already taken when Monsieur de Cantière’s rider arrived a few hours ago.”
    “Mademoiselle,” she corrected absently. She could imagine a request from lowly Emmanuel de Cantiere might be superseded by someone of higher rank. Her knees and hips wobbled, and she wondered if her grippe was coming back. A footman rushed to pull her chair out for her. She leaned back, effectively hiding in an alcove, relaxing her rigid posture as much as her loosely laced corset and stomacher would allow, and breathing deeply. She savored the sounds of people talking rather than the constant rumble of the coach.
    “Marie, if you’d like to sit with your uncle and the men, you’re excused,” came Monsieur Emmanuel’s voice.
    Catherine yanked herself upright and forced her eyes open. “You dismiss my maid?” She hungered for another person’s presence.
    Monsieur Emmanuel looked her straight in the eyes, then took in the rest of her face. She was probably pale, but his stare made her face burn with embarrassment. He glanced over his shoulder at the table of guards and grooms. “Should I sit with you?”
    Of course you should, as the only other person of rank, you idiot.
    He seemed to understand her sour expression and turned away to talk to his servant, Jacques. He pulled out a chair—the one in full view of the main room—and sat. As he glanced over at his men, she realized his long hair was wet and combed rigidly back into a queue. Instead of washing, many of the nobles at court put on more perfume when they smelled, so the smell of a human was a relief, even if he did still smell of dust and horses.
    The innkeeper brought a humble meal of chicken stew and bread. It was better than she had expected, based on the facilities. They