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

five years, wasn’t it? He sighed. It was the closest he had to a home. He was eager to get back to it, not least because some of his mares needed to be covered again, as their pregnancies hadn’t taken in the spring. His assistants knew what to do, but he preferred to be there to be sure it was done with a minimum of risk to the horses. He would trust Jacques, of course, but he had brought him away from Poitou.
    The mares covered the year before had all foaled except one, and she wasn’t due until autumn. Manu wanted to keep an especially close eye on her, since she was Dom’s aging prize mare and this might be her last foal.
    Downstairs, he found his grooms and coachman heading for the stables and the guards and footmen finishing breakfast. They leapt to their feet.
    His stomach sank and irritation boiled up in its place. “No sign of Mademoiselle de Fouet?”
    Jacques shook his head. “Non, Monsieur. The innkeeper’s wife went up again a short while ago. They were still dressing.”
    She’s dressing for court, then? How about her powders and patches? “Get everyone ready and saddled. The sun’s about up.”
    Manu took the stairs two at a time. He rapped hard and, after just a moment, Marie the maid peeked out. “Nearly ready, Monsieur.”
    “I trust you both slept well?” He was trying hard to sound polite.
    “I slept like a baby, but Mademoiselle—”
    “I slept well, Monsieur de Cantière. Don’t worry, I’m ready now.”
    And she was. She wore the same brown dress as the day before, smoothing gloves over her hands. The sight of her made Manu’s heart leap irrationally. Her face was white, so Manu supposed her delay was from powdering it, but when she stepped into the hall, he realized she was horribly pale.
    “Are you well, Mademoiselle de Fouet?”
    “Perfectly all right, Monsieur. Shall we go?”
    He gestured for her to precede him down the narrow stairs. Reluctantly, doubting his need for speed if she really were ill, he said, “If the two of you wish to break your fast, I’m going to have to ask you to eat on the road.”
    The innkeeper’s wife scurried out of the kitchen with two small sacks and Mademoiselle’s drinking gourd.
    “I believe we have everything now, Monsieur Emmanuel.” Mademoiselle de Fouet swept out of the inn with the maid right behind.
    At the first change of horses, Manu knocked on the coach door and peered in to check on her. She was sleeping in the corner, her face pale except for bright red spots on her cheeks. The air weighed heavy and humid already, and the coach was stuffy, but he didn’t want to disturb her by opening the curtains. Besides, the draft might make her more ill.
    At the second change, she was asleep again, which didn’t seem like her. He supposed she was sleeping away the boredom.
    At midday, when they stopped to dine, she was asleep.
    “Marie!”
    “Oui, Monsieur?” She answered just behind him, and he jumped.
    “Your mistress appears to be ill. Rouse her.” He was too gruff. He softened his voice. “Please, Marie.”
    She patted Mademoiselle de Fouet’s hands gently and murmured, glancing at Manu in concern. Mademoiselle de Fouet was confused and lethargic but roused herself enough to go inside.
    “You’re not ill again, are you?” Manu’s mind was already on the second half of the day and the road to cover before Paris.
    “Of course not,” she answered, her voice tight and disapproving as usual.
    Manu yanked his glove off and touched her forehead to check for fever, but she pulled away.
    “Are you sure?”
    “I won’t delay your schedule, Monsieur de Cantière.” She strode regally toward the inn.
    That’s not what I asked. Manu stomped in after her.
    She waved him away from her table when he approached. She and Marie spoke quietly, the maid wringing her hands under the table. Neither Mademoiselle de Fouet nor the maid ate much, for fear of motion sickness, most likely.
    Manu made sure he was the one to help Mademoiselle de