The Dumont Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

notion of the prosperity of the estate and the good handling of its resources. A short, thin man separated himself from a small group talking among themselves and approached their burly escort.
    “Sir Walter, please allow me to escort our guests to table.”
    The captain’s relieved expression told Christian more than words could of his discomfort at this task. Nodding brusquely, he stepped aside and waved them on to follow this newcomer.
    “I am Fitzhugh, the steward. Allow me to see you settled with food and drink to refresh yourselves. Right this way.” The steward led them up the steps to the large table and guided them to seats. Fitzhugh called out to servants and, within a few moments, platters of bread and cheeses and cold meats were placed before them. Pitchers of ale and wine along with goblets were placed on the table. Serving women circled them, offering more food and drink, until there was a full trencher and cup before each man.
    Christian lifted the cup to his lips and drank deeply of the wine. As the drink washed away the dust in his mouth, Christian was overcome with a wave of homesickness for his own demesne and his own vintage of wine. Chateau d’Azure was known far and wide for its excellent quality of grapes and the wine they produced. He craved a bottle of his own even as he swallowed once and again of this local brew.
    “Milord, is something wrong with the wine?”
    Christian was pleased in one way that Fitzhugh had been so observant—it spoke well of his abilities. However, he knew that his own foul mood and the tension spiraling even tighter within his gut were not the steward’s problems.
    “The wine is acceptable,” he answered, drinking down the last mouthful in his cup and placing it back on the table. “I fear that I am simply weary from our journey.”
    “Since neither the queen nor the countess will be able to greet you at this time, I have been instructed to show you to your rooms so that you can refresh yourselves before meeting them at supper this eve. Once you finish eating, of course.” Fitzhugh smiled as he spoke. He was much younger than Christian had first thought.
    Christian wanted to argue about not seeing Eleanor immediately, but his bone-deep fatigue got the better of him. After tearing off some bread, he chewed it slowly as he cut a wedge of cheese. He continued methodically eating everything before him and did not pause until all the others at table had finished. He recognized this as a sad remnant of his recent brush with starvation, however, even knowing this did not stop Christian from eating as much as he could at each meal. Only his willpower and the thought of the possible humiliation at being discovered kept him from takingfood from the table and hiding it within his tunic and in his pockets.
    When all the others had stopped eating and emptied their goblets, Christian brushed the crumbs from his hands and dried his mouth. Rising and following the steward through the hall to a staircase, he looked around and took in as much about his surroundings as he could. A tickle of unease moved down his spine and he searched for the source. He felt as though he was being watched, not as a welcomed visitor but as a potential enemy. No one met his gaze and all appeared too busy to be studying him with the intensity that he felt.
    At the back of the great hall, they were separated and Fitzhugh motioned that he should follow. Soon they alone climbed up three flights of steps and arrived on the top floor of the keep. The steward startled him by leading him to another stairway and up to an even higher floor in one of the corner towers of the keep. His confusion turned to amazement as Fitzhugh opened the door to what could only be the lord’s chamber.
    “There must be some mistake?” he started. “These are the lord’s chambers and obviously meant for someone else.”
    “No, milord. The queen was quite clear in her instructions. She instructed that you should have these