would benefit me the most.”
As I departed my refuge, I brushed the dust and cobwebs from my skirts, shook the straw from my feet, and pushed back the curls that had sprung free from their restraining riband. I stepped into that errant ray of light, and the world went bright for a brief moment. Then I plunged back into the gloom.
I eyed Alexandre as I began to brush past him.
As a child, I always used to kiss him for his attentions in spite of his holding himself away from me. I had taken particular pleasure in doing those things I was not supposed to do.
Such an impulsive, spoiled, and petted creature I was!
Though I had imagined kissing him a thousand times since his confession, I held myself apart from him now. This impulse I would control. Alexandre could still marry well. If he put his mind to it, he might find an heiress far from here who knew nothing of Souboscq or our decline in fortunes. If he couldn’t save us, he might yet be able to save himself. He reached out a hand and brushed my cheek with his fingers.
Pressing my back to the timbers of the doorframe, I slipped past him, hand to my cheek, as I added one item more to the list of those things I would not let myself desire.
•••
I loved the home of my birth. I always had, with its red tiled roofs and rounded towers, nestled in the heart of Gascogne. Though it had been a place of plenty, those in the King’s circle would have scoffed at those things we considered luxuries. Though nothing about the château was fashionable, everything in it was familial. From the sturdy, dark walnut furniture to the tapestries that had decorated the walls with scenes of the peasantry. From the blackened mantels above the fireplaces to the timeworn stone floors. But the presence of the count seemed somehow to have offended. It was all closed doors and dark corridors. What had, in the past, seemed so expansive and familiar, now seemed to have shut itself away.
At the hour of supper, I descended into the hall as the count was conversing with Father.
“We so enjoy our time here and always look forward to your generous hospitality.” The count’s companion, who stood beside him, snickered.
Father’s face went red, and Alexandre’s hand moved toward the hilt of the dagger he kept hidden beneath his coat. As many times as I had begged, as a child, to see it, he had always refused me that honor.
I stepped in front of them both to address the count, curtseying. “Please, my lord. Won’t you join us at the table?” No good would come from words spoken in anger. There was nothing to be gained by hostility. I tried to hide my bare feet beneath my skirts, though the shortness of the hems and the new, longer length of my legs did not allow for it. But just the same, I lifted my chin in honor of my father’s title.
The count bowed toward me with a twist of his lips. “As you wish.”
The only thing I wished him was far from Souboscq…and a gruesome death on the road back to whatever hell it was from which he had come.
Supper was eaten in relative silence, save a belch or two from the count’s companion. The food did not reflect our decline. We had thrown ourselves upon the mercy of Providence. The stream could always be counted upon to yield a trout or two, and the orchard its apples and pears and noisettes. It was after the cheese had been served that Father began to speak. “I must tell you plainly, my lord, we have no money. The crops last year withered in the earth from drought, and this year’s harvest was also poor.”
The count waved his knife in the air, as if to banish my father’s words. “Have no worries. I have not come, this year, for gold.”
Father and Alexandre exchanged a glance. Father raised a brow. “No gold?”
“No, my dear fellow. I’ve come to settle the debt.”
Astonishment must have gripped us all, for Alexandre dropped his spoon, and Father’s brows nearly disappeared into his hair, while a wild sort of elation threatened
As I departed my refuge, I brushed the dust and cobwebs from my skirts, shook the straw from my feet, and pushed back the curls that had sprung free from their restraining riband. I stepped into that errant ray of light, and the world went bright for a brief moment. Then I plunged back into the gloom.
I eyed Alexandre as I began to brush past him.
As a child, I always used to kiss him for his attentions in spite of his holding himself away from me. I had taken particular pleasure in doing those things I was not supposed to do.
Such an impulsive, spoiled, and petted creature I was!
Though I had imagined kissing him a thousand times since his confession, I held myself apart from him now. This impulse I would control. Alexandre could still marry well. If he put his mind to it, he might find an heiress far from here who knew nothing of Souboscq or our decline in fortunes. If he couldn’t save us, he might yet be able to save himself. He reached out a hand and brushed my cheek with his fingers.
Pressing my back to the timbers of the doorframe, I slipped past him, hand to my cheek, as I added one item more to the list of those things I would not let myself desire.
•••
I loved the home of my birth. I always had, with its red tiled roofs and rounded towers, nestled in the heart of Gascogne. Though it had been a place of plenty, those in the King’s circle would have scoffed at those things we considered luxuries. Though nothing about the château was fashionable, everything in it was familial. From the sturdy, dark walnut furniture to the tapestries that had decorated the walls with scenes of the peasantry. From the blackened mantels above the fireplaces to the timeworn stone floors. But the presence of the count seemed somehow to have offended. It was all closed doors and dark corridors. What had, in the past, seemed so expansive and familiar, now seemed to have shut itself away.
At the hour of supper, I descended into the hall as the count was conversing with Father.
“We so enjoy our time here and always look forward to your generous hospitality.” The count’s companion, who stood beside him, snickered.
Father’s face went red, and Alexandre’s hand moved toward the hilt of the dagger he kept hidden beneath his coat. As many times as I had begged, as a child, to see it, he had always refused me that honor.
I stepped in front of them both to address the count, curtseying. “Please, my lord. Won’t you join us at the table?” No good would come from words spoken in anger. There was nothing to be gained by hostility. I tried to hide my bare feet beneath my skirts, though the shortness of the hems and the new, longer length of my legs did not allow for it. But just the same, I lifted my chin in honor of my father’s title.
The count bowed toward me with a twist of his lips. “As you wish.”
The only thing I wished him was far from Souboscq…and a gruesome death on the road back to whatever hell it was from which he had come.
Supper was eaten in relative silence, save a belch or two from the count’s companion. The food did not reflect our decline. We had thrown ourselves upon the mercy of Providence. The stream could always be counted upon to yield a trout or two, and the orchard its apples and pears and noisettes. It was after the cheese had been served that Father began to speak. “I must tell you plainly, my lord, we have no money. The crops last year withered in the earth from drought, and this year’s harvest was also poor.”
The count waved his knife in the air, as if to banish my father’s words. “Have no worries. I have not come, this year, for gold.”
Father and Alexandre exchanged a glance. Father raised a brow. “No gold?”
“No, my dear fellow. I’ve come to settle the debt.”
Astonishment must have gripped us all, for Alexandre dropped his spoon, and Father’s brows nearly disappeared into his hair, while a wild sort of elation threatened
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