His Fair Lady (28 page)

“I have been here seven times already,”
Royce ground out. “The king personally assured me I could recover
my papers and the needed license today, and be on my way to
Birkwell.”

“Beckwell
,”
the toad corrected. “And ‘tis his majesty who is responsible for
the delay. He wished to examine his late brother’s grant one more
time. One does not rush kings.”

“Of course not, especially not this
one!”

Royce turned on his heel and stalked out of
the building and into the courtyard. Halting a moment, he debated
what he might do next to best fill time — fill time until Lord
Craven returned and he could demand an audience with King John.

Royce tossed a glance about the ward, then
stilled as he spotted Juliana following one of the pages to the
keep. He watched the swing of her hips and swish of her skirt as
she climbed the flight of stairs. Watched and remembered how those
hips had swayed to the steps of the dance and rhythm of the music
last night. Remembered the petal softness of her lips.

Royce shook himself from his reverie, then
saw Juliana enter the keep, disappearing from sight. Suddenly
self-conscious, he darted a glance around the ward to see if anyone
had observed him eyeing the maid as though he was the greenest of
lads. None appeared to have noticed.

Thankful to have been spared that
embarrassment, he turned his thoughts toward the northwest tower.
Lord Gilbert seemed a man of sound advice. Royce decided to seek
his counsel on the matter of Countess Linford. Hopefully, he knew
something of her past husbands and what adversaries she might own.
Before heading for the tower, however, Royce thought to first
divert his steps to the stables and check on Hannibal.

Half an hour later, Royce stood in Lord
Gilbert’s chamber, gazing on his quiet form, resting in the
curtained bed.

“The physick bled him again?” Royce turned
his frown on Godric. “His lordship looked perfectly sound last
night.”

Godric twisted his hands together, visibly
distressed. “‘Twas leeches they used this time. I tried to
discourage Lord Gilbert from taking the treatment. But something
he’d eaten — or perhaps, something he’d drunk — did not settle well
with him. He convinced himself he’d feel better if the physick
drained off the poisons. There was naught I could do. Lady Juliana
will be angry with me.”

“How so?” Royce canted his head, his brows
rising.

“Brodric and I promised to not let his
lordship be bled or do anything he didn’t wish. Of course, his mind
was made.”

Royce lay a calming hand to Godric’s
shoulder. “Easy man. I know you cannot challenge your lord’s
commands. Like Lady Juliana, I am not so trusting of the royal
physicks. Should they wish to practice their arts on Lord Gilbert
again, send for me. Perhaps, I can dissuade him from any imprudent
course the physicks press him to take.”

Royce withdrew, beset with concerns for the
old lord’s health, but also impressed by Juliana’s instincts and
her pluck to assert them. Departing the tower, his thoughts
remained on Juliana. He need find her and speak with her on the
matter of Lord Gilbert. However, he must first see if Lord Craven
had returned.

As Royce started across the ward, a feminine
voice called out. Turning, he discovered Lady Sibylla approaching
him.

As she joined him, she slid her arm through
his. “You almost slipped away,” she teased, her eyes sparkling.
“Come. We must walk. I’ve just come from the great earl himself,
William Marshal. You’ll wish to know all he said.”

Royce accompanied the countess toward the
garden, intrigued as he gazed into her dark flashing eyes. What
truly was the price of her Linford titles, he wondered, fascinated
by the woman yet mindful of her proneness to brief marriages.

»«

Ana entered the queen’s solar and found the
ladies working, regrettably, on the tapestry once again. Taking her
place beside Lady Blythe, she took up needle and thread, her finger
sorely reminding of how she’d pricked it yesterday. Ana’s gaze
dropped to the little bird. He really was a pathetic creature,
thanks to her handiwork.

Queen Isabella smiled kindly, looking as
radiant and as composed as ever. “I am glad you could join us, Lady
Juliana. We were just in the midst of discussing another of
Chaplain Andre’s tenets of love. It states: ‘The easy attainment of
love makes it of little value; difficulty of attainment makes it
prized.’“

Difficulty of attainment?
What of the impossibility of attainment?
Ana wondered
dismally, thinking of her squire. She straightened at that, chiding
herself. She’d thought much of her squire these last days and
little of Gervase. Poor Gervase. He waited faithfully for her
still, no doubt heartsick.

“Lady Juliana, what are your reflections on
Chaplain Andre’s tenet? Lady Juliana?” the queen prompted.

Ana wrenched herself back to the present.
“Forgive me, my mind drifted a moment. Chaplain Andre — the
attainment of love — well, I think . . . well . . .”

A rap at the door saved Ana from answering.
She sent her thanks Heavenward for she’d not the vaguest notion of
what to say.

The ladies continued to embroider as one of
the pages rushed to place a sealed missive in the queen’s hands.
Breaking the bead of wax, she opened the letter and scanned its
contents. Flushing, she smiled, then rose to her feet.

“Please continue, ladies. I shall return
anon.” Catching up her skirt, Isabella hastened from the
chamber.

Lady Mertise’s lips tilted in a thin smile.
“The king must have returned from the hunt. His blood is always
high when he does, as are his appetites.”

A titter of laughter followed her
observation.

Lady Arietta leaned forward, smiling
mischievously. “I’d much rather know of Sir Royce’s appetites. Has
anyone seen him or Lady Sibylla yet today?”

Ana stabbed her needle into the canvas, wide
of her mark. ‘Twas impossible to concentrate.

“No, but the countess was spinning her web
about the knight well enough last night,” Lady Mertise noted,
bringing more titters of laughter.

Ana glanced up at the woman, thinking her
wit and her tongue to be particularly acerbic today.

“‘
Twould be a high step for Sir Royce
into the countess’s bed,” Lady Arietta mused.

Lady Blythe’s eyes rounded. “Do you think
that is his intent?”

“‘
Tis hers no doubt. And when has the
countess not gotten her way?” Lady Mertise sniped. “‘Tis well
known, Lady Sibylla abhors cold sheets.”

She shifted her eyes to Ana. Cat’s eyes, Ana
thought.

“And what is your opinion of the two as a
couple, Lady Juliana?” Lady Mertise arched a brow, waiting
expectantly.

“I don’t really have one.” Ana bent her
attention to the tapestry, keeping it there as she stitched. ‘Twas
truth. She’d no opinion because she shut the topic from her mind,
not wanting to court any images of Sir Royce and Lady Sibylla
wrapped around one another like clutching vines.

“No opinion at all? Even if he marries
her?”

“Marries her?” Ana plunged the needle into
her sore finger. Bolting upright from the pain, she brushed her
hand inadvertently against the tapestry, smearing her blood across
the canvas and threads.

“Clumsy little fool!” Lady Mertise shrilled.
“Look what you’ve done!”

“Mertise, ‘twas an accident,” Lady Blythe
intervened, her gaze darting between the two.

“Humph.” Lady Mertise snorted indelicately.
“If her blood hasn’t ruined the piece, her stitches already have.
See you there? The bird will need to be picked out.” She glared at
Ana. “Did no one ever teach you how to make a proper stitch?”

“Mertise, what has gotten into you?” Lady
Arietta gasped. “Juliana simply did not have our advantage. She was
raised among the peasants.”

“Shush, both of you,” Lady Blythe warned.
“You know the king and queen forbid mention of Juliana’s past.”

Ana rose, spearing her needle into the
tapestry, her heart beating madly. “You will forgive me if I leave
your fine company, but you’re quite right. I really don’t belong
here.” As fast as she could manage, Ana quickened across the
chamber.

“Now see what you’ve caused, Mertise,”
Lady Arietta hissed. “Someone should put a lock on your
tongue.
^-

“Why? We only tolerate her presence because
the queen favors her. Good riddance, I say.”

“Mertise, that is cruel!”

“And not true,” Lady Blythe insisted.

“Are you so sure?” Lady Mertise
challenged.

Ana could bear no more and rushed through
the door, through the corridors, hurrying to her bedchamber.
Entering, she was relieved to find it empty and herself alone.

A great despondency came over her, pressed
down on her, like a weight of iron upon her heart. Slowly, Ana
crossed to the window and gazed out. lingering there and savoring
the peace.

A movement in the garden drew her eye — Sir
Royce and Lady Sibylla strolling along the path, arm in arm, deep
in discussion. Ana’s heart sank at the sight. While she’d told the
other women she’d no opinion of the two together, as she gazed on
them now, she knew, deep down, she detested the thought wholly.

A sudden overpowering urge swarmed through
Ana, entreating her. She wished to run and run and run, just as in
her dream. But even if she should, Ana questioned what would she be
running from, and what would she be running to? Did she really
know?

»«

Ana arrived late for the midday meal,
finding it nearly impossible to force herself from the confines of
her bedchamber to face, let alone mingle with, the court nobles.
‘Twas Luvena who heartened her spirits and prodded her to go
down.

“Brace yourself up with a bit of color,” the
little maid said, laying out Ana’s rose gown. “A spot of color does
wonders and will carry you through the hours. You’ll look bright on
the outside, even if you feel bleak on the inside. None will know,
mark my words.”

Luvena’s guidance was the best she’d
received all day, Ana decided as she entered the hall. She felt
pretty and acceptable in her rose-colored gown, leastwise on the
outside. Nonetheless, she hoped to take her meal unnoticed. To that
end, Ana chose a place at the hall’s lower end, near the entrance.
She would have much preferred to sup with Lord Gilbert in his
chamber, but word had come that he continued to rest.

Seeing that the king and queen were absent,
Ana asked her table companions of them. One of the men, clearly
annoyed to be disturbed in the midst of devouring a joint of
mutton, informed her that the royals took dinner in their private
chambers. Ana could well imagine what the three clacking hens —
Mertise, Arietta, and Blythe — would have to say of that.

Glancing about the great hall, she tried to
locate the trio. As she continued to search for them, Ana noticed
how a great many of the ladies’ gowns bore telltale stains —
bloodstains, obviously gained during the falcon attack on the birds
in the hall. Ana puzzled that. How odd that the other ladies’ gowns
could not be restored while hers had been, and perfectly so.

Unexpectedly, she discovered Guy of Lisors
strolling along the tables toward her. Seeing her, he smiled and
stopped for a moment.

“I am almost finished with the first of my
new song, Lady Juliana. ‘Tis of your adventures traveling with Sir
Royce. If you would indulge me, I still have questions about the
boar incident.”

Ana’s brows rose a fraction. “If you would
know what passed on the ground with the beast, I suggest you ask
Sir Royce. I was in a tree.”

Guy laughed. “I’ll be certain to add that
morsel to the verses. I only wish I could have seen his feat
myself. Ah, speaking of the noble knight, there he is now with
Countess Linford.”

Ana cast a glance to the entrance, then just
as quickly turned away. The minstrel spoke truly. Sir Royce and
Lady Sibylla stood just inside the portal, pausing as a knot of
people joined them there.

As Guy continued to ramble along the tables,
Ana realized she’d yet to obtain a trencher or wine. For several
minutes, Ana sought to catch the attention of one of the servants,
but to no avail. Again she lifted her hand to signal one
approaching, but irritatingly a figure stepped in front of her,
blocking her view of the man.

“May I join you?” a rich masculine voice
asked.

Ana instantly recognized the voice as Sir
Royce’s and did not bother to look up. “Are you not with Countess
Linford? She’ll not wish to sit so low as this.”

“Lady Sibylla has been called away.” He sat
down next to her.

Ana glanced over her shoulder, then around
the hall. Indeed, the countess was nowhere to be seen. She leveled
her gaze unblinkingly at the knight.

“I am surprised you did not accompany her.
‘Twould be the gallant thing to do, I am sure.” Ana mentally
winced, hearing the tartness in her voice. She reminded herself of
Lady Mertise.

The corner of Sir Royce’s lips twitched
upward. “I’m not sure the countess’s sister would appreciate my
being present for her child’s birthing.”

“Oh. No, I suppose not.” Ana fell silent,
feeling at a sudden loss for words in the knight’s presence.

“You are looking particularly lovely
tonight, Lady Juliana. Your rose gown is most becoming.” Sir Royce
waited a moment. When she did not reply, he spoke again. “Despite
your concerns over the stains, the gown appears as new, do you not
agree?”

Ana raised her eyes to find him smiling. He
looked as though he expected her to make some comment. But what was
it she was supposed to say? As she searched her mind for
possibilities, the two swains who’d pursued her yesterday passed by
their table. Both wore blackened eyes and contusions on their
faces. Simultaneously, the two sent glaring looks at Ana.