The Dumont Bride Read Free Page B

yet.
    “You have one week until you must leave for England—use it well. You may take your brother back to Chateau d’Azure and then be at my disposal here on Tuesday next.”
    Christian rose and stepped back from the king. He was saved! His brother would live! And his honor would once more be restored. And all in exchange for some task for Queen Eleanor.
    Some task for the queen. Another wave of foreboding passed through him. What if the price was too high? What if he could not complete this mystery task? Nay, he could not fail…he could not afford to fail…the family Dumont, all past and future bearers of the title of Langier and most of all his brother, were depending on him.
    Richard then leaned over the documents and scrawled his signature on the many sheets. Christian added his own, as directed by the priest. After giving more instructions to the priest and nodding to Christian,the king walked down the steps and through the hall. Just as he reached the doorway, he turned back.
    “Langier.” Richard used his newly restored title to address him now. “Report to me when you discover my brother’s involvement in all of this. I smell his foul odor even from across the Channel and in spite of his claims of innocence.”
    Christian nodded to Richard, agreeing to this additional term.
    “Directly to me and to no one else.”
    The king left without hearing his response, leaving him in astonished confusion.

Chapter Three
    S unlight streamed into the large room through the glass windows her father had commissioned years before, to please her mother. Emalie shifted on the cushion beneath her, trying in vain to get comfortable. Leaning back and away from the loom, she looked at the others in the room. Every one of them was more than content to sit and weave or embroider or sew until the light was no longer useful. Not her, though. She had not spent this much time in the solar in the few years since her mother’s death.
    Unable to remain still, and eager to feel the summer breezes flow over her face, Emalie gathered her skirts and stood, easing the bench away from the wooden frame so she could step back. The room grew quiet as her actions were noticed.
    “Milady? Is there something you require?” her maid asked, putting down the embroidery frame and rising to attend her.
    “Nay, Alyce. You may continue here. I am just anxious for a breath of air. I shall return anon.”
    She expected that none of her household would question her leaving, but she was unprepared for LadyHelene’s challenging frown. The lady was one of the queen’s retinue and had spent most of the past week trailing behind her and reporting, Emalie knew, directly back to Eleanor. Every move she made and every person she spoke with was the subject of scrutiny. And it grated on her that, after months of being in charge of her father’s estate, she was now relegated to the role of hostess only.
    Eleanor had banished John and his minions after the near-debacle the day she had arrived, and placed her own people in key positions both in the keep and throughout the demesne. Emalie now spent her days in the solar sewing and weaving, or in the chapel praying. Eleanor’s feelings on the power and importance of prayer in a young woman’s life were made clear on her second day at Greystone. A new priest arrived and proceeded to offer the Mass that morning and on every one since then and Eleanor insisted on Emalie’s attendance.
    A new captain of the guards worked in tandem with her own captain, a new cook fought to wrest control of the kitchens from her own and even some of her personal servants had been replaced. Eleanor was nothing if not thorough in her attempts to get to the truth. Where John had been devious and dangerous, Eleanor was simply persistent and irresistible.
    Emalie ignored both Lady Helene’s glare and her attempts to follow her out of the room. With a nod to her maid, Emalie walked quickly from the solar, down a corridor to the stairway that