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

dined in silence, Monsieur Emmanuel glancing longingly at the servants.
    It was up to ladies to carry a conversation. She cleared her throat. “If the bedchambers are comfortable, Monsieur Emmanuel, then I will have to admit you were right about this inn.”
    He turned his head sharply to look at her. After a moment, he smirked. “My father always stops here. And Dom and Cédric, when they’re traveling with their wives. You will not believe it, but I didn’t choose it to inconvenience you.”
    She looked down at her plate. “I didn’t think you had. I’m just not used to traveling so far in a single day.”
    He didn’t say anything until she looked up into his stony face. “I’m not used to going so slowly.”
    “I thought you traveled sometimes with the comte and comtesse. Surely the comtesse isn’t made to travel on horseback at breakneck speeds.”
    He shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s been a long time since I traveled with them. I’m usually in a hurry. Though sometimes I’ve been leading horses for sale and go even slower.”
    And you like your sister and your horses but don’t like me. She shook away the thought and went back to peeling her peach.
    “I’m very worried about my mother. She was not completely recovered when she left. And for her to leave behind a companion seems very odd. She will need you, I am sure.”
    “She has her maid, Anne. She doesn’t rely on me for anything,” said Catherine, focusing on the peach juice leaking all over her hands and plate.
    “You listen to her, don’t you?” Monsieur Emmanuel said after a short pause.
    “I agree with her about everything.” At least pretend to. “It’s how I stay in her good graces.”
    She finally glanced up at his face. He was staring at her, his mouth pursed in thought. Or disgust.
    “As long as the baronesse is happy, I have a place to live. I could find another benefactress, of course, but the only others who would take me are within her circle.”
    She looked back at her peach, which was squashed and ragged but finally peeled. She wiped her hands on a napkin and picked up a spoon to poke at the orange flesh.
    Monsieur Emmanuel cut his peach into sections, only struggling for a moment with the pit. He pushed the plate across the table to her. “You really cannot peel them when they’re ripe.”
    He went to talk to the innkeeper and signaled to his men. She leaned forward and saw them getting up one or two at a time, talking and smiling.
    Marie came over and stood silently by the table. Catherine took the last bite of the peach and dabbed carefully at her chin. “Has my trunk been taken up to our room, Marie?”
    “Oui, Mademoiselle.” The girl lifted her eyes to Catherine’s and smiled suddenly. She leaned forward and whispered, “I’ve never slept in an inn before.”
    Catherine smiled back. She hoped the cot or pallet or whatever had been provided for the maid would be comfortable, so as not to dash the girl’s expectations. “It’s never as nice as being home in one’s own bed,” she warned gently.
    Not that Catherine had a home. The baronesse moved from place to place—wherever the king was, to the baron’s Paris townhouse, to friends’ châteaux. She brought along feather mattresses for herself and Catherine unless she was quite sure they would have comfortable beds.
    Catherine sighed. What I would give for my feather mattress right now. What I would give for my grandmother’s house in Normandy and the ocean breeze.

Chapter Three
    The knock came at Emmanuel’s door before the sun was up, just as he had requested. The innkeeper’s wife crept in and left a pitcher on the wash stand as Manu stretched and yawned. As soon as she was gone, he flung the blankets back and rolled out of bed. He always slept in drawers when away from home. At home, his servants knew to knock and wait for an answer before coming in.
    Home. He rarely thought of it that way, but it was where he had spent most of his time for the last