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

but the man had an outsized personality, which made him seem larger: always shining, always on stage.
    “ Allons voir the cabinet. We shall see it. But here is a set of four chairs in embroidered velvet we made on speculation. We expect to sell them to the next noble who walks in; they are perfect!”
    Fourbier pointed out the details in the carving and the embroidery, the strength of the joints, the lightness of the design. They moved on to the cabinet, which glinted with bold carved swirls, bronze inlays, and tiny painted flowers that glowed in the dim light from the display room windows. Manu’s breath caught.
    When they moved to the fabric storeroom and Fourbier waxed poetic, Manu’s mind began to wander.
    “Ah, but do you like blue? That is, I know, the colonel’s coat, but with a little work, it could fit you instead.” Fourbier pulled down a roll of blue fabric which rippled and shone. “Perhaps in satin, though. With little gold buttons and just a glint of gold at the cuffs. Then gold satin for the breeches and waistcoat.”
    Manu stammered something about horses and provincial life.
    Fourbier sighed. “I have yet to convert any of you de Cantière men. Such a shame. All of you with your striking beauty—you blonds as well as the darker ones like Henri and your father. At least your sister takes my advice—the divine Comtesse de Bures! The life in her smile! And your niece—Ondine argues with me about shades, and she is sometimes right. Such an apt pupil. What an eye! And elegant bone structure! But the gentlemen prefer to be a little dull. Though I suppose your modesty makes you hidden jewels.”
    ****
    A dramatic chord sounded on a harpsichord as he wandered past the music room. Inside, a lovely, blonde lady curtsied to a gentleman. When she rose from her curtsey, the man said, “Ah, non, Mademoiselle. The right foot must slide further across. Your shoulders are not square, which means you haven’t gone far enough. Try again.”
    His bright clothing proclaimed him a dancing master. “Now. Your Highness, may I present Mademoiselle Ondine de Cantière, daughter of Monsieur le Colonel de Cantière, late of Your Majesté’s Army, granddaughter of Monsieur de Cantière, Baron de la Brosse. And then you go.”
    Manu stared at his niece—his nearly grown niece whom he hadn’t thought of as anything other than a baby. She executed what looked like a perfect curtsey.
    “Ah, non.” The dancing master sighed, even as the girl was half-kneeling on the floor. “Slowly and gracefully. The little stops and starts do you no favors. Have you even practiced since last week?”
    The girl rose up with a jump rather than a graceful swirl. “Of course I practiced! I thought my limbs were going to collapse. I ached and shook every single night.” The girl’s voice was full of fury and tears. “It’s not fair!”
    She turned to stomp out of the music room. Manu was too surprised to step out of the way. She stopped short and scowled, narrowing her eyes. She was so very young. Still a little girl. He slid his foot back and bowed, his hand over his heart in his best courtly bow. “Mademoiselle Ma Nièce ,” he murmured as he rose.
    She sank into a royal curtsey that even Manu’s inexperienced eye could see was better than the one she had done a moment before. “Monsieur Mon Oncle.”
    When she rose again, the dancing master also bowed to him and was about to praise her when she launched herself forward and kissed Manu on both cheeks. He was pleased she was learning her exuberance from Aurore rather than patterning herself after her own mother.
    “Is that Papa’s coat? Did Fourbier tell you it looked all right? He picked out the fabric for this gown, and none of us ever would have chosen it, but the subtle pink and blue stripes, he said, would bring out my blue eyes and my pink cheeks. Maman said he was absolutely right.” She grabbed Manu’s hand and pulled him toward the dancing master. “Will you dance with