The Chevalier (Châteaux and Shadows) by Philippa Lodge Page A

was hitching his ox to his cart. “ Merci , kind sir, for your help.”
    He lifted his hat and nodded. “Only sorry I couldn’t save it.” His voice was tight and whiny, still expecting punishment.
    “Is there an inn nearby where we can rent horses? And someone to fix the axle?”
    “Oui, Madame,” the peasant said. “But it’s nearly a league back the way you came.”
    “Is there something in the other direction?” They were so close to Versailles. She had no desire to backtrack.
    “It’s more than a league, Madame, and with the king passing yesterday, I don’t know about horses. All the nobility’s been through since the rain stopped. That’s why the road’s so churned up.”
    “We’ll take half the guard, Mademoiselle. You ride with me. We only have two leagues to go.” Monsieur Emmanuel spoke brusquely.
    “Ride with you?” Catherine echoed.
    He frowned at her before saying, “If it’s a problem, Mademoiselle, you can ride in the cart with the baggage when it catches up. Or wait for the coach to be repaired. I’ll ride on as soon as I make the arrangements.”
    He turned his back on her to direct the peasant to take their trunks and the footmen to an inn. She had to bite her tongue to keep from taking over the discussion; they didn’t need her. She was baggage instead of the companion who saw to details. They wouldn’t even have the carriage along if it weren’t for her. She wasn’t sure if it was a relief or a disappointment to not be needed for anything. Mostly a relief, because Monsieur Emmanuel was doing a good job of taking care of things.
    The closer they got to Versailles, the more she was tired of the pretense and the gossip. Monsieur Emmanuel’s stiff, angry reaction to her gossip the day before had shocked her. She had only meant to explain the claque against Phèdre to Madame de Cantière, not to spread malice.
    For just a moment, Catherine wanted to tell Emmanuel she had no desire to rejoin the court. She could stay the night in the inn and organize passage to her property in Normandy. Perhaps he would accompany her there, help with the decisions and details, keep her safe. Her trunks with the baronesse could be brought on later. She wasn’t quite sure what she would do once in Normandy, though. The land was rented out, the crops wouldn’t be in for a few more months, and the house was in disrepair. Her mother and grandmother used to have friends in the district; someone would take her in while she had the house fixed.
    Monsieur Emmanuel’s voice broke into her thoughts. “We can see if the next inn has a suitable horse and a sidesaddle.”
    “I don’t have a riding habit.” Catherine was loath to arrive at court in any way that would excite notice. “Or a riding mask to keep the sun off.” And she hadn’t ridden in years.
    “Then the safest way is for you to ride behind me with your hat pulled down firmly. Marie will ride with one of the other men.” He turned to the maid. “You do not get ill on horseback, I hope, Marie?”
    The girl insisted she never had when she rode pillion with her uncle or father.
    Monsieur Emmanuel turned back to Catherine. “You can trust me. The gelding I’m riding today is calm and reliable, if a bit old. Jean-Louis says he did not flinch under cannon fire.” When Catherine didn’t answer immediately, he frowned more deeply. “I’m a good horseman, Mademoiselle.”
    “Of course you are,” she answered, her eyebrows arching. “I was hoping we wouldn’t face any cannon fire today.”
    He grinned in surprise, making her heart beat faster, but he turned away to go over some details just as she smiled back. Then they were mounting up—him on the horse holding out a hand, and a guard giving her a leg up.
    “Of course,” he said over his shoulder when she had mostly avoided brushing her already dirty skirt on his muddy boot and found a fairly comfortable spot on the horse blanket behind his saddle, “I will only have a change of shirt