The Gilded Crown Read Online Free PDF

hampered as Cécile was, with a babe in arms, she would hardly be able to give chase. ‘It was a gift from my husband. He is close by,’ she added, hoping her sentiment would be understood.
    Sparks of fire raced through the emerald eyes, and the woman dropped the medal as though the heavenly protector of darkness had just set a candle to burn beneath her fingers. ‘ Husband ?’ Her expression turned demonic. She bared her teeth, hissing, and curled her fingers as though she meant to claw Cécile’s face.
    â€˜ Mademoiselle !’
    An elderly man pushed through the nearby brambles. He scowled at the woman and his gloved hand neatly caught her arm. ‘Calm yourself, my dear. You know you are not supposed to be out on your own.’ His tone became apologetic. ‘Forgive the intrusion, Milady. My, er, niece has taken it upon herself to wander when she should not.’ He turned the woman’s cheek so that she looked at him. ‘Come, Adèle. Do not bother this good lady.’
    â€˜She was not bothering me,’ offered Cécile, feeling sorry for her.
    Without warning, the woman threw her head back and began to laugh, a harsh, cackling sound. ‘She called her son John!’
    The man bowed to Cécile. ‘Forgive my ward. She has recently recovered from a grave illness and it has left her out of sorts. Come now, Adèle. You need your rest.’
    â€˜But what of my John?’ Her look became vacant. ‘Where is he?’
    â€˜You know where he is,’ her uncle said, spacing his words. ‘Try to remember why. Come.’
    At a loss to answer such a pitiful display, Cécile felt relieved when she heard her own name called out loud. Griffith was looking for her. ‘Please excuse me,’ she said to them, anxious to be away. ‘May God grant your niece a complete recovery.’
    Griffith’s voice rang out louder. ‘ Lady de Bellegarde. ’
    Adèle’s eyes popped and she stiffened, her arms ram-rod straight and her hands curling into fists, her complexion turning blue as she held her breath.
    â€˜Monsieur,’ cried Cécile, alarmed. ‘Is she not well?’
    â€˜An apoplexy. Go, quickly, Madame! I implore you.’
    Adèle’s growl sounded like a hound from Hell. She sprung, claws slashing, but was neatly captured and held down by her uncle, though it cost him dearly – bruised ankles and torn skin as she wildly kicked and bit in a savage outburst of rage.
    Cécile sped across the furrows, offering thanks to whichever saint had seen fit to deliver her at such a moment.

    After supper Cécile sought the solace of her bed, feeling as malcontent as her son. Gillet still had not shown. She grunted into her pillow. If the victorious knave thought to throw a drunken leg over her tonight, he could think again! A hooting chorus from outside belied the appearance of her husband. Cécile peeked through the tent flap and watched as Gillet drew Armand aside and they entered into a private discussion. He did not look happily intoxicated. In fact, he appeared quite the opposite.
    Fifteen minutes later Gillet strode into the tent, and knotting the ties, spun around to glare at Cécile.
    â€˜God’s Holy Rood! I have just been informed you walked alone before supper. And what in Heaven’s name did you think you were doing this morning? Did I not tell you to have a care when picking your seat upon the stand?’
    Peeved over his long absence, Cécile was ripe for quarrelling. ‘By the Pope’s intestines! It is hard to judge one’s character, when no one is sitting there! The merchant you sent fleeing sat after we did. Why? Does he own skirts that you have raised? Where the devil have you been all evening?’
    Gillet stepped to the small table and poured a goblet of wine, draining it at a gulp. He set the cup down with a decisive thump. ‘De Loudeac is a scoundrel and a