Why would he volunteer so much information? Was he as embarrassed as she was to have been caught kissing her, even by a servant? Unless this wasn’t a servant.
Alana gave the old man a closer look. His hair was silver gray, but it wasn’t thinning yet. Worn long, some of it was queued, but the rest was loose on his shoulders, giving him a scraggly look. His eyes were light blue, his face craggy with wrinkles. But he was tall, robust of frame, his shoulders barely stooped. And he was oddly dressed. He wasn’t wearing a jacket with his dark blue, long-sleeved shirt, but a white fur vest that reached the hem of his knee-high breeches. There were no shoes on his feet, only stockings.
“You kiss all the ladies you escort, eh?” the old man asked.
Christoph laughed. “Only the pretty ones. Lady Alana, this is my grandfather, Hendrik Becker.”
Alana wondered if her cheeks could get any hotter. They did a moment later when a middle-aged woman appeared in the open doorway to the parlor.
Seeing her, Hendrik immediately crowed, “Look who’s here, Ella. And I caught him kissing this young woman. You should tell him to marry her. He’ll listen to you. If they give you a grandchild soon, our Wesley will have a playmate.”
“Hush, Henry,” Ella said. “You’re embarrassing the girl. And Wes has a playmate. You. I have to fight to get him out of your arms.” Then she held out her arms to Christoph. “Come here.”
He grinned and walked over for a hug. “Introduce yourself, Mother, and make Lady Alana comfortable. I will be back shortly.”
“You just got here!” Ella protested.
Alana was speechless. He was going to leave her alone with his family? She was about to protest, too, when he told his mother, “I shot a few men not far from here. I just need to make sure they are dead or cart them here for questioning if they still breathe.” Then he turned to Alana and chucked her chin. “I leave you in good hands.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
CHRISTOPH WALKED OUT THE door, every inch the captain, all-business, to deal with his unpleasant task. Alana would still rather have gone with him. She didn’t mind meeting strangers, but these people were his relatives. Did they have the same barbaric tendencies he displayed? Not his mother, of course, but the rest of his family? He’d been raised in this house, so where else would he have learned such behavior?
But Ella Becker put her at ease immediately with a simple warm smile. She looked no different from most Englishwomen her age Alana could have met in London. Her light brown hair was neatly coiffured, her lavender day dress in the height of English fashion. No taller than Alana was, Christoph’s mother had blue eyes as dark as Christoph’s, but otherwise Alana noted no resemblance between mother and son.
Ella led Alana into the parlor where a fire blazed, the room warm enough that she quickly took off her coat, gloves, and cap. The furniture was English in style, dark, polished wood tables and cabinets, tan and brown brocaded sofas and chairs. Alana was reminded that she was in a foreign land when she saw that one entire wall was decorated with a mosaic depicting a mountaintop view of the capital city in summertime. Alana found it breathtakingly beautiful. The windows in the room had tasseled, velvet drapes, which were open. She could see the snow-covered landscape, steep hills and mountains not too far away.
A family portrait hung above the fireplace. Alana wondered if Christoph’s grandmother had painted it. She recognized Ella in it easily, and possibly a younger Hendrik. Two other men were in it, another woman much older, and one young boy, blond, blue-eyed, handsome. She didn’t doubt the boy was Christoph, and it felt a bit odd, seeing him as a child.
Alana tore her eyes away from the portrait and took a seat, but she’d no sooner got comfortable when Ella asked her frankly, “It’s serious between you two? I’d imagine so for Christo to bring you to meet us.”
A logical enough question, after what Hendrik had said when he’d caught them kissing, so Alana managed not to blush yet again. But what was she supposed to tell his mother? Christoph hadn’t said she could speak freely.
“No, I don’t think we would have stopped here if not for the snowstorm. He’s escorting me farther up the mountain to a chalet.”
“The king’s chalet?” Hendrik asked as he walked in to join them.
Alana blinked at his accurate guess, but Ella chuckled at her. “Don’t look surprised. The nobles live no higher than the foothills, with estates extending down to the fertile valleys. Only the king has property so high in the mountains that it’s not useful for anything other than a retreat.” Then Ella frowned. “Forgive my bluntness, but Frederick hasn’t finally taken a mistress, has he?”
“No!” Alana gasped. “Well, not that I know of. I’ve never even met the king.”
“Good. I would hate to think that the sedition currently being spread in the country would force him to desperate measures for an heir, when the queen isn’t barren. She’s just been having bloody rotten luck bringing a pregnancy to full term. I sympathize. My luck was just as bad after Christoph was born—until recently,” she ended with a smile.
“Recently?”
“Christoph’s brother, Wesley, is not even three years of age yet. Quite unexpected he was, arriving so late in our marriage, when Geoffrey and I had long since given up having another baby.”
A twenty-year age difference between the two brothers? Amazing, Alana thought. People would think they were father and son, not siblings.
“Your accent is familiar,” Ella added. “You’re English, aren’t you?”
“Like you, I was raised there, yes.”
“What brings you so far from home?”
“I came here to meet—a parent I didn’t know I had,” Alana said carefully.
Hendrik burst out laughing. “That sounds familiar, too, eh, Ella?”
