The Chevalier (Châteaux and Shadows) (21 page)

Emmanuel pulled away slightly and tilted his head to the other side before taking her mouth again. She forgot about her late fiancé.

She reached for him with her other hand and hit her wrist on the hard wooden door, bringing her back to their surroundings. She pulled away, and after a moment of hesitation and a fiery look through his half-closed eyes, he let her go and stepped back. His horse snorted and shoved his back with his huge head, making Emmanuel stumble forward half a step again and catch himself on the low door as she jumped back.

He grinned. Joy bubbled up inside of her until she laughed.

****

Her gloved hand burned Manu’s arm, its every slip and flex sending fire through him on the long, slow walk back to the palace. They talked only a little, but the glow of the kiss settled inside him and kept him warm in spite of the chill rain dripping from Catherine’s parasol onto his hat and down the back of his neck.

His first brush with reality was when they slipped back into the palace and noticed some of d’Oronte’s friends watching and smirking. He managed to distract Catherine’s attention from them—at least
her
mood would not suffer—but climbed the stairs faster than he should. They were both a little out of breath at the top.

“My mother will be missing you.”

Her face changed from its relaxed, happy expression to surprise and then, just as quickly, to the stiff mask of the invisible companion. It hurt him to see it, so when they reached his mother’s door, he paused and glanced around to be sure they were alone. “Will you dine with us tonight?”

She blinked, but the mask didn’t change. “With us?”

“My father is surely planning something for the family, since most of us are here.”

“And your mother?” She watched him warily, which was slightly better than blankly.

“We will come to see her, just not all at once. The Swiss Guards will watch over her. And the maid from my father’s house.”

“Marie.”

“Yes, Marie.”

He stood in front of her, not wanting to let go of the hand he held between both of his own. She caught his eye, her cheeks turned rosy, and she hid her face under the brim of her hat.

He couldn’t help himself; he tilted her chin up and untied the ribbons to remove her hat, her cheeks turning an even hotter pink as he touched her neck. She stepped back and took the hat from him.

“Will you dine with us?”

She glanced away. “Yes, please.” She slipped quickly into his mother’s room.

He wandered back toward his father’s room—down one floor and into a different wing. He was surprised his feet had led him the right way, especially as he wasn’t particularly paying attention.

He opened his father’s door and was pushed back by a blast of voices. It appeared everyone in the family was crammed into the sitting room, children on the floor building with blocks, other children standing around a table, holding cards. Since he was the one who had taught the boys to gamble a few days before, he wasn’t too concerned about the cards. There was some good in being a wicked uncle. But there were far too many children, including the de Ligny twins and a few others of about the same age as his nephews.

Jean-Louis loomed in front of him. “We wondered where you had gone. What happened to your face?”

He clasped his brother’s arm—the brother who looked most like him. “To the stables. I had to clear my head.”

Henri strolled up behind Jean-Louis, shaking his head. “Ah, oui. The stench of manure always makes me think clearly. And bruises do so much for your looks.”

Emmanuel smiled at him anyway, still buoyed by his kiss with Catherine. Henri hesitated, as if waiting for an angry reply, then stepped forward to shake hands, his light brown eyes darting as if waiting for Manu to bite.

“Tonton Manu!” shouted a young voice. Jean-Louis’s oldest boy, Marcel, came barreling out of Manu’s tiny bedchamber. “Papa said I could sleep on your floor, since there’s no more room anywhere!” His blue eyes gazed up in adoration. He gasped. “You have a bruise!”

Manu smiled awkwardly. “Not even in with the other boys?”

Marcel shook his head. “Papa and Tonton Henri are taking the beds in their room and the other boys have to sleep on the floor, too, one in there and one in Grand-père’s room, and they’ve made Dario go in with his parents.” The boy grinned. “Papa said they were dividing.”

“Divide and conquer.” Jean-Louis shook his head. “Otherwise, I am sure no one would get any sleep. We used to all bunk together, after all, eh, Dominique?”

Dom had just entered and nodded gravely at Jean-Louis. “I seem to recall it was Cédric who kept us all up.”

What would it have been like to grow up with these brothers? Manu had trained and bunked with other boys his age once Dom and Aurore took him in, but never with brothers. He was so much younger than the others he felt like he was from a different generation.

Cédric shoved Dom’s shoulder. “I usually got blamed. But whose idea was—”

“Manu!” Aurore strode across the room from where she had been holding Sandrine’s hands as they talked in low voices. “Aren’t you ready? How did you get that big bruise?”

“Ready?” Manu stepped back.

“We’re going to go down before dinner and rub shoulders with the court. Talk and mingle and introduce you to everyone you don’t know yet. I don’t know if the whole family has been up at court at the same time in years. I think it will be a good show of solidarity. Sandrine will oversee the children and our dinner. Papa said he has been asked questions about Vainqueur already and has been trying to direct them to your mare. But you have to change. And put something on your bruise.” She grasped his chin gently and tilted his face toward the light, glowering at the injured spot, which was probably darkening.

“I’ve invited Mademoiselle de Fouet to dinner.”

Conversation around him stopped as his family looked up in surprise. Aurore smiled hugely and released his face to clap her hands. “Oh, excellent! Papa is going to sit with Maman, but the rest of us are dining in Cédric and Sandrine’s room. I’ll send someone to tell Mademoiselle de Fouet where to meet us. Sandrine, did you hear? One more for dinner. Is she in Maman’s room now?”

“I…” Manu glanced at the others, who were watching him closely. “I left her there, when I came in from the stables.”

He could feel his cheeks heat. Henri smirked.

“Well? Go change. Your very best.” Aurore fluttered her hand toward his room.

It was probably only an hour later, but it felt like at least five of bowing and being introduced to hundreds of people. He would begin conversations only to be dragged off by Aurore’s firm grasp on his arm or a wave from Cédric. Sometimes it was a nod from Jean-Louis, bringing him to the attention of army officers who might need war horses. He explained a dozen times Vainqueur was not for sale but his gray mare was, and that he had several equally beautiful horses in Poitou he hoped to bring up to Paris. He sighed for his horses.

He spotted a few familiar faces as they circulated. Some of the young men he dueled with greeted him cheerfully. Others pretended they didn’t see him or nodded ungraciously.

Lucas de Granville, as formal and somber as ever, greeted him with what appeared to be as much relief as his own at finding a friendly face. They had been allowed to play together sometimes as boys and had made a vow to protect each other from the bigger boys. He wondered if they would still hold to that vow, if necessary.

Lucas leaned toward Manu and murmured, “My godfather is praying for your mother.”

Manu winced. The news was out. “Thank him on my behalf, please.”

“He…” Lucas grimaced. “He says it is punishment for her reconciling with your father.”

Manu nearly growled. “You would think he would be pleased to have them remember, ‘What God has joined together, let not man put asunder.’ ” And how often did Manu find himself quoting holy writings?

Lucas shook his head. “My godfather is not always rational when it comes to influence. He is quite pious, but…” He shrugged.

Manu nodded. D’Yquelon’s piety was overbearing yet somehow flexible when it came to the man’s own family. At least Maman had been consistent in condemning lapses in her family and friends, though he could not think of it as kind.

Lucas murmured again, “How is Mademoiselle de Fouet bearing up? They are not accusing her, I hope.”

“As a family, we’re sure she is not to blame.” Manu shook his head. He was convinced of it and would defend her to the end.

Lucas smiled in relief. “Tell her to come to me if she needs any help. We’ve always been friends.”

Manu had to crush a wave of jealousy.

“She might disagree, but I have always thought of her as a little sister.” Lucas shrugged again. “Maybe a cousin. An ally, anyway.”

Manu felt twin urges to thank Lucas for his past support of Catherine and to shove him hard and demand he never see Catherine again. He managed to breathe and remember that this was a friend, someone who trusted Catherine and whom she probably trusted. And besides, it was Manu who had kissed her. He doubted Lucas would have been so presumptuous.

Finally, the family excused themselves and made their way up a grand staircase. Manu found himself between Jean-Louis and Henri, trailing along silently behind Aurore, who was waving her free hand as she talked with her husband and Cédric.

“They’re exhausting.” Henri’s voice startled Manu.

“Who?”

Henri flicked his hand toward the three in front. “I can barely keep myself from screaming and hiding after being bumped into and talked over and seeing all those simpering faces, and there are Aurore and Cédric, ready for more.”

Manu nodded. “The worst are the ones who know me from when I was a boy but I have no recollection of them. I’m certainly not going to remember their names now, and someone is going to get offended.”

Jean-Louis shrugged. “I am sure we’ve lost sales because I didn’t remember some gentleman with whom I spoke in a crowd. If they seem eager, I write their names down right away and give them the address of the showroom.”

Henri chuckled. “Then Fourbier handles it.”

“He could sell poison to rats,” said Jean-Louis.

All three of them paused at the word “poison,” thinking of their mother and the other rumors of recent suspicious illnesses and deaths.

Henri glanced at the other two. “We should call on our mother before dinner, n’est-ce pas?”

Their mother was sleeping and their father in a somber mood, working on account books just outside her bedchamber. Catherine was ready to dine with them. Her bodice and skirts were still dull and not at all fashionable, but she had tied her hair up with a pretty red ribbon, and her brooch glinted from her cleavage. Manu’s heart beat faster to see her cheeks turn pink when she looked at him.

All through dinner he was distracted by watching Aurore drag Catherine into conversation and wishing he were seated closer to her.

After dinner, Sandrine and Jean-Louis went with Manu as he accompanied Catherine back to her room, ostensibly to look in on Maman. Jean-Louis was leaving in the morning to go home to Hélène and his other children, leaving his son Marcel behind. Manu wondered if anyone was going to get any sleep, since the boy and Dario were manic with excitement.

When they arrived, Sandrine and Jean-Louis stepped into Maman’s room, and Manu found himself alone with Catherine. He couldn’t think of anything to say, his brain slow due to the late hour, the heavy dinner, and a few glasses of wine. She sat and stared at her hands, blushing and removing her gloves slowly.

“Would you like to go riding tomorrow?” His voice was raspy and higher-pitched than usual. He cleared his throat.

She glanced up at him and assessed him for a few seconds before looking away. “I would like it very much.”

“I mean, if the rain stops long enough for the gravel paths to dry.” He cleared his throat. “In the morning, I will practice swords.”

“With your brothers?” She looked worried.

“Possibly. I will ask them if they would like to come. The boys would probably like a lesson.” He remembered d’Oronte was usually there and was sorry he had mentioned it.

She must have remembered d’Oronte too, as her cheeks paled. “I will sit with your mother in the morning, but I could ride in the afternoon.”

“Excellent. I’ll meet you here?”

He lifted her hand to his lips. The heat of the soft skin of the back of her hand made him dizzy. He kissed her hand again, then brought her palm to his cheek. He could hear his own heart beat in his ears. He bent down and brushed his lips against hers, her breath leaving her in a gasp.

“Manu.” Jean-Louis’s voice pulled him out of his dream, and he stood, the spot on his cheek where Catherine’s hand had touched burning from within.

“Come say good night to the baronesse.” Sandrine smiled at him, more sly than he had ever seen her.

Manu’s blush burned hot. “Of course.” He turned back to Catherine and bowed deeply. “Good night, Mademoiselle. I will see you tomorrow at noon?”

She muttered something and bowed her head to him, her bare neck so graceful it sent a spear of longing through him.

Jean-Louis cleared his throat, and Manu snapped to attention before fleeing into his mother’s room.

Catherine was gone and the door to her bedchamber closed when he came out, blushing from his mother’s complaints about his bruised cheek. Jean-Louis waited silently near the door, his arm across Sandrine’s shoulders in protection and brotherly affection. Manu held out his arm, and Sandrine took it with a smile.

I could give this protection to Catherine.

He had only met her a few days before, but he wanted her to be safe. He wanted her rather desperately. The only thing he had ever wanted as much was to raise horses. Would he be happy with any of the girls on his father’s list of prospective brides? The three he had met so far were less interesting than Catherine. He hadn’t felt an urge to kiss any of them. He had to admit that, at first, he had seen Catherine as an encumbrance. Now he could forgive her for being his mother’s ally.

He paused as they rounded a corner, and Sandrine glanced up at him, sympathetic. He glanced at Jean-Louis, who waited patiently.