Amanda Scott (4 page)

Adela sat quietly, speaking only when someone spoke to her. After a time, she caught sight of the handsome young man she had noted in the chapel.

He was speaking to one of Sir Hugo’s sisters, the elder, she thought. But the two girls’ gowns and veils were of similar color and style, and they were nearly the same height, so she could not be sure.

Glancing past Sorcha at Hugo, she was not surprised to see his frowning, intense gaze fixed on the same couple. She was certain he must be a most protective brother and had no doubt that he would have stern words for his unfortunate sister. Adela sighed. To think that her own sisters had once expected her to marry him!

Turning to Ardelve, she smiled as she shifted aside to allow a gillie to pour wine into her goblet. When the lad stepped back, she began to reach for it but pulled her hand back when she remembered there would be toasting.

Beside her, Ardelve said, “Take a sip or two, lass. No one will mind. The carver is flashing his knives, but they’ll be piping food from one end of this hall to the other for a while yet, so I’d also advise you to eat some bread with your wine.”

Another gillie, overhearing, instantly offered rolls from a basket.

Adela took one gratefully, tearing off a bite-size piece and eating it before she tasted her wine. It was fine claret, she was sure, but her sense of taste seemed to have deserted her along with the rest of her senses.

Ardelve also sipped wine, and when the ceremonial presentation of the first course ended, Adela was able to eat in peace, buffered on one side by Sorcha and on the other by Ardelve. Gillies kept food and wine flowing, musicians played, and the company remained noisily cheerful. The claret was heady for one who rarely drank more than half a goblet of any wine, and Adela began to relax.

At her left, Sorcha chatted merrily with Hugo, and doubtless most improperly, too. Adela had noted that the two seemed to talk about any subject that entered their heads, and she could not approve. In her opinion, people—ladies, at least—should display more decorum. But she had long since stopped trying to persuade Sorcha of that. She just hoped her irrepressible sister would do nothing to make the countess regret her unusual seating arrangement.

“Where is Sidony?” she asked when Sorcha next turned to her. “I’ve not seen her since we came into the hall.”

“I’ll wager she went upstairs to look in on our new nephew,” Sorcha said with a grin, referring to Isobel and Michael’s firstborn child, now a fortnight old. “She spends more time with him than with anyone else, and you can see how relaxed Isobel is. Had her bairn been lying upstairs alone all this time, she would be fidgeting by now.” Stopping a passing gillie, she asked for more wine.

“Dearling, you should have let Hugo give him the order,” Adela said.

“He is talking to his sister Kate,” Sorcha said.

Adela saw that the girl she had seen flirting with the handsome stranger was now sitting between Hugo and Sir Edward. The latter was chatting with the lady on his left, so she decided Hugo must have summoned Kate, because he was talking to her and looking very stern.

Kate looked annoyed, too, as well she might, Adela mused, remembering that she herself had once emptied a basin of holy water over Hugo’s head when she had had enough of his lecturing. Trust the man, a notorious flirt himself, to call his sister to order for harmless flirting.

Adela recalled, too, that people besides her sisters had expected her to marry Hugo and she had even considered doing so. Now she wondered at herself. She liked him very much. He was handsome, charming, and a famous swordsman.

But he had an annoying tendency to order people about, and she preferred not to have orders flung at her. Sorcha dealt with him better than she ever could.

Ardelve would suit her better. She would live close to her own home, see old friends and family whenever she liked, and he was wealthy enough to provide every comfort. Moreover, he never snapped orders at her.

She turned to smile at him again.

He was staring at his goblet as if he considered refilling it, but he sensed her gaze, for he turned his head and said, “I think this wine has turned. But I’ll not complain, for you are so beautiful that I believe I must be the most fortunate of—”

To her shock, his face froze, except for his lips, which opened as if he gasped for words to finish his sentence, and his right hand, which clutched his chest. Then, just as she realized he
was
gasping for air, he slumped awkwardly against Isabella.

The countess exclaimed and tried to hold him, but he collapsed to the floor.

Adela stared in shock.

“Sakes, I didn’t think he was even in his cups,” Sorcha exclaimed.

“He isn’t,” Hugo said, leaping up and moving swiftly to Ardelve’s side.

“Adela, turn away, my dear,” the countess said in a firm voice. “And, prithee, try to compose yourself, for you do not want to cause a stir. Indeed, I am sure this can be naught that should distress you.”

“His eyes are open, but I do not think he sees me,” Adela said without looking away.

Hugo still knelt beside Ardelve, but after only a cursory examination, he looked up and said gently, “I’m sorry, lass. I’m afraid he’s gone.”

She gasped, and tears sprang to her eyes.

Isabella signed to the minstrels in the gallery, and they began to play a lively tune. Startled, Adela looked up to see a trio of jugglers run into the clearing in the lower hall. Acrobats followed, doing flips.

As she began to turn back to Ardelve, she saw that although nearly everyone had turned to watch the entertainers, at least one person had not.

The man with green eyes was looking at her.

Chapter 2

T
he white linen cloth on the table draped to the floor, so the activity behind it remained out of view of the company in the lower hall. But Adela had no doubt the stranger had noticed Ardelve’s collapse. And if he had, others had, too.

Before turning back, she noted uneasily that the stranger was getting to his feet. She hoped he did not intend to approach the dais, but she dared not watch him, lest even such slight interest draw notice.

A gillie and one of Hugo’s henchmen knelt by Ardelve. The henchman’s lean, muscular form and dark, neatly trimmed beard looked vaguely familiar, but Adela paid him small heed. She kept her gaze fixed on the body of the man who had so briefly been her husband.

Lying at the center of barely controlled chaos, Ardelve looked only peaceful.

Gillies poured wine, served food, and made themselves useful. Taking their cue from their betters, they attended their duties as if nothing else were happening.

In the lower hall, jugglers juggled while acrobats did flips and cartwheels. People laughed and cheered them as the minstrels continued their merry tunes.

At Adela’s right, Isabella chatted with Prince Henry as if Ardelve had simply excused himself for a few minutes. But Ardelve still lay where he had fallen.

Hugo’s henchman glanced up at Adela just then, again stirring that tickle of familiarity. Then he touched Hugo’s arm and said something to him.

Looking over his shoulder, Hugo met her gaze briefly before turning to his wife. “Sorcha,” he said, his voice carrying easily despite the general din. “I think perhaps you and Adela—”

“Nay, Hugo,” Isabella interjected, turning from Prince Henry but looking as if she spoke to Adela rather than to Hugo. “They cannot both go. Nor Isobel. You should remove Ardelve to the solar for now in any event, since you three can easily do so without causing alarm.”

“But her ladyship should not stay here, madam,” Hugo said, his kinship and long-proven loyalty to the Sinclairs giving him license where others would dare take none. “To ask that she remain is unfair to her. Nor should you expect her to stay with … with him in the solar until we can arrange matters more suitably.”

“I agree,” Isabella said with a slight gesture to her right that brought Lady Clendenen at once to stand by her chair, smiling as if naught were amiss. Without a blink, she stepped carefully out of the way of Hugo and his helpers.

Standing beside the countess as she was, her ladyship was only a head and a few inches taller. She was, However, a good many inches wider than the willowy Isabella. Her expression, although remaining cheerful, revealed her concern.

“What can I do to help, madam?” she asked with a glance at Adela.

“Take Lady Ardelve up to her chamber, Ealga,” Isabella said. “If you take the northwest stair corridor yonder, anyone who notes your departure will assume the two of you mean to visit the garderobe tower. A casual departure will give those who may have noted Ardelve’s collapse to think only that he suffers from an excess of wine, especially when Hugo helps Einar and Ivor carry him into my solar.”

The name Einar was familiar, too, but Adela lost interest in Hugo’s henchman when Lady Clendenen said, “But, surely, when Adela fails to return …”

“By then, most will have forgotten the incident. Those who recall it will assume that the bride and groom simply arranged a ruse to let them slip away for the usual purpose. Few of our guests have been in the solar, after all. Even fewer will recall that it opens only onto this dais.”

“Why, that is true, for that chamber is a quite new addition, is it not?”

Adela heard their words but paid scant heed, feeling compelled to watch the men prepare to move Ardelve. Lady Clendenen’s touch on her shoulder a moment later startled her so she nearly leaped off her chair.

“Forgive my smiling after so tragic an event, Adela dear,” her ladyship said. “But we must try to look unconcerned unless we want everyone in the lower hall to know what is happening. If that happens, both the concerned and the curious will instantly surround us. But if we can manage to look as if naught is amiss, they will carry Ardelve out quietly, as if he were in his cups. Then, the feasting can continue.”

Adela nodded, grateful for the chance to get away. As she stood, Sorcha said quietly, “Do you want me to go with you?”

Adela glanced at her. “The countess said—”

“If you want me, I’ll go, no matter what anyone says,” Sorcha said firmly.

“Nay,” Adela said. “She’s right. ’Twould create a stir, and I don’t want that.”

“Very well. Then I’ll come to you as soon as I can get away.”

“Smile at her, Adela,” Lady Clendenen said quietly.

With difficulty, Adela directed a wan smile at her sister, then turned to join her ladyship, noting with relief that Hugo and his man had lifted Ardelve out of her path and were taking him into the solar.

“Look at me, dearling, or at the floor in front of you,” Lady Clendenen advised as they passed the others.

“Thank you for your kindness, madam,” Adela murmured.

“Sakes, my dear, you need use no such formal tone with me. We’ll be close kin when I wed your father, so I already think of you as my daughter.”

“Thank you,” Adela said again, finding it hard to keep looking ahead or at the floor, because she had a most in-appropriate urge to see if the handsome stranger still watched her or if he had left the chamber.

Sharp movement from her companion as they neared the west end of the dais drew her to see Lady Clendenen signal repressively to someone. Following her gaze, Adela saw the tall, broad-shouldered figure in the forest-green velvet doublet and yellow hose turning away.

He glanced over his shoulder, then paused when he caught her eye.

“You need speak to no one,” Lady Clendenen said, putting a small but firm hand under Adela’s elbow as they stepped off the dais and urging her thus to walk more briskly toward the nearby archway.

“Do you know that man, madam?” Adela asked, believing her companion would need no further identification. “I own, I do not, although I saw him earlier in the chapel. I also saw him speaking briefly with Sir Hugo’s sister Kate.”

“Aye, sure,” Lady Clendenen said with her cheerful smile. “For is he not
le chevalier
Etienne de Gredin, one of my own kinsmen? Sithee, he is a distant cousin on my mother’s side and likewise kin to le Duc d’Anjou. He tends to be a trifle encroaching, but he is a most charming and amusing creature withal.”

“He is French then.”

Lady Clendenen shrugged. “Most of us have French blood in us, do we not? However, Etienne’s people came over with the Conqueror, as did the Sinclairs’ and my own. His father, before he died, was envoy to France, and I warrant Etienne has as many kinsmen in France as he does here. He travels there frequently. But then many young men of good birth who have access to boats do, do they not? He wants to meet you, which is doubtless why he had the impertinence to approach. But then, he does not know it was impertinence, because he does not yet know of Ardelve’s death. Nevertheless, I cannot allow him to annoy you at such a difficult time.”

“Thank you,” Adela said. “I do not want to talk to anyone.”

“I’ll present him another time,” Lady Clendenen said. Then, with a direct look, she said, “I hope you do not mean to mourn overlong, my dear. Ardelve would not want that, not for a lass of your youth and beauty.

“Indeed,” she went on before the astonished Adela could speak, “you must not shut yourself away or waste your attractions. A woman of your years requires a husband to be respectable. But I shall say no more about that now. I shall chatter away, to be sure, but you need heed none of it.”

It was as well that she added the last, because Adela could think of nothing to say. That her ladyship could even raise such a subject seemed outrageous, but Adela was sure that any reply she might make would only be more so.

“Such an odd way for Ardelve to go,” her ladyship went on as they entered the stair hall and approached the stairway in the thick walls forming its northwest corner. “Still, I doubt he would object much to it if one could seek his opinion.”

Motioning for Adela to precede her up the stairs, she added without pause, “It is certainly a better passing than my late husband’s. He was wounded in battle, poor man, and it took him months to die. To my mind, Ardelve’s was a gentler way. Not that you will thank me for saying that. Indeed, your mind must seem befogged now, but we will talk again when you can think clearly. In the mean-time, I’ll just keep talking to put off anyone else who might approach us.”