Antoine stroked the beast’s nose fondly. “He’s one of a kind. That’s why he was the ultimate prize. He’s quite special. Been with me for years.” The knight’s focus drifted to Jax as he took in her riding outfit. “I see you are joining us for the hunt, Your Grace. It will be an honor to have you amongst the ranks. Surely, the stags will come right up to you once they see your beauty.”
Jax rolled her eyes, while Amia giggled girlishly at the man’s flirtation. “Perhaps you will join my niece at the head of the column?” she suggested in a coquettish manner. “You can keep her entertained so that my father doesn’t bore her to death.” Amia nudged Jax closer to the famed knight.
Jax’s eyes narrowed in retort, but Antoine beat her to a response. “While I would love to be by the Duchess’s side, I believe that is Lord Pettraud’s rightful place.”
At the mention of Perry, Jax’s heart turned heavy. Once the hunt concluded, she would see if she could sneak down to his holding cell to visit him. She knew he was counting on her to clear his name, and he’d want to know all they had found out.
“I don’t think Lord Pettraud will be making the hunt,” Amia said. “My father mentioned that the poor thing was not feeling well after last night’s festivities and has taken to his rooms for the day,” Amia explained, clearly intent on her niece befriending the Knight with No Face. Her aunt’s statement also told Jax that Duke Mensina was keeping Perry’s imprisonment quiet for now.
“Well, Lady Amia, here you and I are gabbing away about what should suit the Duchess, and we haven’t even asked her.” Sir Antoine turned his dark amber eyes back to Jax, their intensity making her knees shake uncharacteristically.
“Of course, you should accompany me up front, Sir Antoine. Who knows, perhaps the deer will prefer your golden hair to mine,” Jax gushed superficially, wanting this conversation to end. “But excuse me for now. I must get myself a horse. I left Mortimer back in Saphire.”
“Oh, silly me, I forgot that’s why we came down here.” Amia chuckled absentmindedly. “Well, good day, Sir Antoine. I hope your arrows fly fast and true.” With that, she dragged Jax away into the stables and introduced her to a svelte chestnut bay mare with an endearing temperament. “Her name is Olive.”
Within the next ten minutes, the stable hands saddled Olive, giving Jax just enough time to canter over to the hunt’s starting line. Despite her initial unease with riding a strange horse, the Duchess’s heart quickly softened for the beautiful animal. Olive was mild and sweet, unfazed by the commotion around her, as Jax urged her through the ranks of knights, joining Duke Mensina at the front of the pack.
“Glad you could join us, Jacqueline.” Her grandfather grumbled, not sounding pleased at all.
“I wouldn’t miss it, Grand-Père,” Jax countered, grabbing the leather braided reigns firmly in her hand to keep steady. For a ducal hunt, women riding with the column always had to sit side-saddle, which was the absolute worst, causing Jax to endlessly shift in her seat. She’d only been mounted for five minutes or so and already wanted to give up and get off, but seeing her grandfather’s brooding expression, she knew she was in it for the long haul.
A small page boy appeared off to the side, a golden bugle in hand. Seeing the signal from the Duke, the little boy puffed his cheeks, sounding the start of the hunt. Horses hastened forward instinctively at the call, hounds barking beneath their powerful legs. Jax felt Olive lurch forward, and they were off.
Chapter Seven
Mesmerized by the creature’s beauty, Jax watched Maximus gather speed until the horse galloped beside her, Sir Antoine grinning boyishly in her direction. She knew the thrill of riding a Crepsta stallion at top speed, and it was nearly impossible not to smile. “He rides beautifully, Sir Antoine,” Jax complimented as she watched the beast thunder across the ground.
“You’re very good in the saddle, yourself, Duchess,” Antoine commented, noting her exquisite posture as he slowed down to trot beside her.
She laughed. “I wish my High Courtier could hear you say that. I was always a fan of riding with both feet in the stirrups as a child. He practically had to tie me to a saddle like this to get me to sit like a lady,” she shared, groaning at the hours Jaquobie spent ranting and raving about her inadequate equestrian skills.
“I can imagine you were quite the wild spirit as a child.” Antoine smiled, chuckling at the thought. “You are quite refreshing from the other ducal rulers I’ve dealt with in the past.”
Jax frowned slightly, hoping he was not implying that she was weaker than her male or more experienced counterparts in the realm.
He saw her expression and immediately backtracked. “What I meant to convey was that your open-mind and kind attitude is uplifting. I’m so used to listening to dukes drone on and on about themselves,” he added, rolling his eyes, then blushed, realizing that Duke Mensina was only a few feet away. “You seem to be genuinely interested in others around you. It’s nice.”
For the first time since they were introduced, Jax felt a rush of fondness for the knight. His elaborate and gaudy persona was just an act, a way to keep the mystery alive, now that he was no longer nameless. From atop his stately horse, Antoine revealed his true colors and what he valued. “Thank you, Sir Antoine. That’s very kind of you.”
“Wincaester! Take lead of the right column and I’ll go off to the left. We’ll corner the little devils in no time,” Duke Mensina’s harsh command interrupted their intimate conversation, causing Antoine to spring into action.
Having no desire to stay with her grandfather, Jax nudged Olive after the group Antoine led deeper into the forest. She had fallen behind, now that the chase was on, and she dallied at the back of the column with a few bannermen. Men she noticed wearing the colors of Savant.
Seizing the opportunity to learn more about the fallen knight, she edged her horse closer to the group. “I’m so sorry to hear about the death of Master Chalfant.” Jax said with sympathy, addressing the man nearest to her.
He did a double take, likely thrown by her being the Duchess of Saphire, and yet still speaking to them. “Excuse me, Your Grace? What did you say?”
Jax leaned in as much as the saddle would allow. “I said I’m sorry to hear about Master Chalfant’s death.”
The man looked at his other comrades, each of whom appeared spooked.
“Forgive me, did I say something offensive?” Jax couldn’t understand their odd behavior.
One of the other young men spoke up. “No, ma’am. We were just surprised you knew about his passing, that’s all. We were under orders from the Duke not to mention it during the festival.”
Jax’s brows rose. “He ordered you to keep it a secret?”
Another nodded eagerly. “Yes, Your Grace. He gave us each ten gold pieces and promised us ten more at the festival’s end if we kept our word.”
“Duke Mensina paid you?” Jax’s mouth fell fully agape. She knew her grandfather could be ruthless, but she didn’t think he would stoop quite so low to keep this a secret.
“Yeah, miss. We imagine it would be quite the blemish on the feast if a man died from having too much fun,” squeaked the youngest, likely a page boy.
Interesting. Jax eye’s washed over the entire group. So, these young men seemed totally unaware that their companion had been purposefully murdered.
“We’ve kept our mouths shut, but it’s so hard with all the guards asking us questions about him. I mean, we didn’t even know him that well, so there’s not much to tell. Got no family to notify, either.” The oldest appealed to Jax, likely hoping she wouldn’t blow the whistle on them.
“Yes, it sounds quite tragic.” Jax murmured in agreement.
“We don’t know nothing about his personal life. Mostly kept to himself.” One of the bannermen shrugged. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard some wench had been asking after him today, hinting that she was pregnant with his baby. Poor thing is in for a rude awakening.”
Jax balked, realizing they we
re talking about her disguise. Trying to keep her face neutral, she pushed further for information. “Why were you surprised that he had a lady friend?”
“Didn’t seem to be the type to fall for a woman like that, Your Grace. Like I said, he mostly kept to himself.” The young man scratched his head. “He struck me as a bit paranoid, always thinking someone was after his money. I doubt he’d let a random woman into his tent for fear she’d rob him blind.”
Jax processed this new information. Chalfant must have known his murderer if he trusted them enough to allow them entry into his tent.
“Duchess!” Sir Antoine’s call startled her, forcing her to grip Olive’s mane tightly to prevent herself from tumbling to the ground. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the dashing knight trotting toward her, his expression dismayed. “I guess I’m not much of a hunter after spending my life in the arena. I’m afraid we’ve lost the trail on this side. Hopefully, the Duke’s men will track them down, so we won’t all starve.” He joked, nodding in acknowledgment to the ragged group of men she was speaking to. “I’ll escort you back to the palace, if you’d like?” He cast a wary eye on her present company.
“Yes, that would be wonderful.” She breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that the hunt hadn’t lasted very long. Men were so quick to overlook animal survival instincts, and she always doubted the success of large, hollering groups in these scenarios. To her unwitting informants she said, “Thank you so much for your conversation. Again, my sympathies.”
“Quite the odd company to keep, Duchess.” Antoine commented dryly on their way back to the castle.
“You sound like my grandfather,” Jax retorted, defending the honor of the young men.
Flushing with embarrassment, the dashing knight conceded. “I suppose you’re right. I was just praising your virtues, and now I go and poke fun at you for it.”
“And still, I persist.” Jax smiled confidently, although the truth of it burned in her chest. She was a new breed of sovereign, trying to usher in an era of fairness and well-being for her people and the realm. She longed for the day when there was a changing of the guard and the old ducal sovereigns stepped down, leaving the world to the next generation.
“What are you thinking about?” Antoine’s voice sounded gentle and curious.
“About a day when kindness is the norm of the realm, a day when people are not surprised their ruler actually takes an interest in their everyday lives,” the Duchess mused, taking in the regal palace growing before them in the distance.
The Knight with No Face whistled longingly. “What a day that will be, indeed.”
Chapter Eight
By the time Jax and Antoine arrived back at the palace, she felt that she had found a kindred spirit, and her heart was filled with warmth and cheerfulness. She’d learned quite a bit about his background as they trotted along. Hailing from a prominent noble family in Beautraud, Antoine Wincaester had not been fond of the spotlight shining on him from an early age. At twelve, he begged his parents to send him to live with relatives in Hestes, and there he grew into his own, realizing he could use his status in life for the good of others. Under the guise of the Knight with No Face, he could amass his own private wealth, which he used to fund schools in poor communities and clinics in towns without a resident physician. Listening to his philanthropic accomplishments, it amazed Jax that he did it all anonymously, considering his showy personality.
“I used to be afraid that if everyone found out that playboy Antoine was the secret benefactor to so many people, they would think I was after something in return. As the Knight with No Face, I could do all these things without my motivations being scrutinized. It sounds silly now, which is why I decided to give up the double life. Now, I’m hoping to rebrand myself so that I can continue doing the work the Knight with No Face started,” Antoine explained as he helped her off Olive, Jax’s legs having fallen asleep from being pinched by the saddle.
“Rebrand yourself? How so?” Jax asked curiously.
“Well, the playboy image is getting a bit tiresome to uphold. I mean,” he sighed dramatically at her bemusement, “a man can only handle so many women.”
She poked his arm with her elbow as she rolled her eyes laboriously. “You’re ridiculous.”
Antoine feigned an injury, tenderly rubbing his arm. “In all seriousness, I want to settle down. I’ve met many beautiful women in my life, but I want someone with whom I can share my innermost thoughts with and converse about things other than the latest fashions or which Duke is hiding his mistress in a bunker.”
Jax stared into his eyes, a sad loneliness building behind the deep amber. “A bunker? Really?”
Antoine blinked for a moment, the tension between them dissolving. “Some men don’t treasure women the way they should, that’s for sure.” He cleared his throat, his attention turning to the castle. “Lord Pettraud seems like a fine man. An extremely lucky one, at the very least. I should let you get back to him, Duchess. It’s been a pleasure.” With a fluid bow, the Knight with No Face disappeared into the crowd leading up to the castle for the evening’s festivities.
Jax felt a tinge of disappointment that her future consort had already been selected, a dark thought which immediately gave way to a rush of shame. For all his charms, Jax did not agree with Antoine’s decision to create the Knight with No Face persona; she felt that a person who had the power to do good, should. It was as simple as that. She thought his reasons for hiding his philanthropy were more selfish than anything. Perry, on the other hand, had always demonstrated his inherent goodness and never felt the need to hide his true self from the world, regardless of the pain and punishment it brought from his gruff father. Thinking about the stark differences in the character of the two men, Jax chided herself for dallying behind. She wanted to visit Perry to make sure he was managing all right, as well as stop by the ducal archives to see if Mensina housed any record of the tourney schedules throughout the realm.
She veered left as she wove her way through the gardens, knowing the most direct way to the dungeons was through the sprawling kitchens. The rumbling in her stomach coaxed her to move quickly, and she realized that she had forgotten to eat lunch due to the earlier chaos. The aroma of venison stew wafted toward her, momentarily diverting her focus. She followed the scent into the heart of the kitchens, navigating skillfully out of sight of the palace staff. Her keen eyes noticed a trolley being loaded with heaping platters of fruits, pastries, cheeses, and vegetables. Nimbly, her fingers swiped a gooey cherry strudel, stuffing it rudely into her mouth. She felt the sugar seep into her bloodstream, giving her the second wind she needed.
Following a winding hall away from the kitchens, the cool air signaled her descent into the depths of the castle. As a child, she had been forbidden from going into the dark recesses of the palace, so naturally she took every chance she could get to sneak down. At least until a toothless prisoner scared the wits out of her, the memory still very much ingrained in her psyche.
“Pardon me, Your Grace, may I assist you?” Reginald’s slimy voice startled her from a dark corner. Despite his polite words, the Master Steward’s tone suggested he was in no mood to help.
Calming her pounding heart, she delivered a cool stare. “Why, yes, I wanted to check on Lord Pettraud to ensure his safety and well-being. The Duke of Pettraud will obviously expect a full report about his son’s unjustified imprisonment.” Seeing the steward’s eye narrow, she knew she had touched a nerve.
“I understand your concern, Duchess, but we do not allow visitors.” Reginald’s words were sharp and pointed.
“I believe it is the right of a sovereign to visit her subject, should they be detained,” Jax snapped with fury, throwing her shoulders back in defiance.
“That is true, Your Grace. But unfortunately, in this situation, Lord Pettraud is not officially a citizen of Saphire,” Reginald countered, sleazy triumph dripping from his eyes.
Jax opened her mouth to protest but then closed it, reali
zing Perry would not legally be tied to Saphire until they married. Clenching her fists, she struggled to give the steward a conciliatory smile. “I shall speak to my grandfather about this matter. Good day, Steward.” Not bothering to wait for his reply, she turned on her heel and marched out of the dank darkness back toward her apartment chambers, fuming at the man’s snide comments. She was so outraged that not until she arrived at the door to her suite did she remember that she meant to visit the ducal archives.
Unlike Saphire, which boasted its own library in the center of Sephretta, the capital city, Mensina’s archives were situated in northern tower of the palace. With a calculating glance at the dial on the wall, Jax cursed, realizing she had very little time until she was expected back at the banquet hall for the second night of the feast. Barging into her quarters, she began loosening the laces of her corset so she could wriggle out of it without assistance. “Uma!” Jax called into her maid’s room, adjacent to her apartment. “Dear one, I need you to do something very important.”
“I doubt fixing your hair qualifies as something of importance,” Uma said dryly as she popped her head into the room. Seeing Jax’s exasperated expression, her teasing grin left her face. “What’s wrong?”
“I know I promised you could attend the feast each night, but I need you to do something for me. I would do it myself but my absence would raise too many suspicions.” Jax filled her in on Perry’s imprisonment and what she had learned so far about Master Chalfant. “I need you to go to the ducal archives and track down for me the different places these farcical tourneys have been held over the past ten years or so. Find, if you can, the dates and the hosting cities of each event. That might help prove Perry’s innocence.”
Uma’s shoulders straightened in pride, obviously touched that Jax trusted her enough to request her assistance on this mission. “Of course, I’ll go there right away if you don’t need my help getting ready.” Her eyes widened as she awaited Jax’s response to the unspoken question.
A Feast Most Foul (Ducal Detective Mysteries Book 2) Page 6
