Page 12 of The Sword and the Damsel

“Oh, don’t be such a prude,” Alais said, jabbing a finger repeatedly into Iselda’s shoulder.

Iselda swatted away Alais’s hand. “I’ll tell Mother!”

“Don’t you dare!”

“At least your motheradmitsto what married people do. My mother still pretends babies are carried down from heaven by angels and delivered in baskets,” Lady Simone said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m confused,” said Lady Eugenie. “What do babies have to do with being naked in a bedchamber?”

Everyone was suddenly silent. They all looked anywhere but at each other. Alais certainly wasn’t going to be the one to explain. Dora’s knitting needles clacked, and her mouth moved. She appeared to be counting her stitches with great attention and was of no use, either.

“Oh look!” Lady Mathilda said, pointing. “There’s another knight coming along the road. See his banner?”

Grateful for the distraction, Alais turned to pay avid attention to the new arrival.

“I don’t recognize the banner,” Lady Simone said, squinting to make it out.

Alais shaded her eyes and nodded before announcing, “Robert of Guestling. He’s Sir Victor’s cousin. Victor’s father, Giles, is Castellan of Guestling. Robert is second-in-line after Sir Victor.” She’d never met him before, but she knew the banners of every noble house within a three-day ride, along with their political allegiances. Was Sir Robert independent-minded like his cousin or a tool of Lady Helisende’s scheming? She would have to listen closely to see if she could determine where his loyalty was bestowed.

The sword sharpening stopped again.

“Eh.” Lady Mathilda shrugged. “You can do better than second in line.”

Robert was now close enough that they could make out his features.

“Blond hair, blue eyes, Alais,” Lady Simone said teasingly. “Just like that troubadour Gilbert you fancied.”

“Gilbert? I’m over Gilbert.” If he wasn’t such a coward, he would have invited her to run away with him. But as she watched the knights arrive, she started to think perhaps her marriage options wouldn’t be so terrible after all. “Heavens, this Sir Robert is rather handsome, isn’t he?” Alais said, appreciating the view.

The man who rode toward them seemed like her dream come to life. He had eyes the color of forget-me-nots and golden curls that perfectly framed a face full of laughter and mischief. As he passed the ladies on the hill, he doffed his cap with a flourish and winked at them, though he made a strange face when he noticed Sir Victor sitting nearby.

“Oh my,” was all she could say as he rode on through the west gate and into Winchelsea. She and her companions collapsed against each other in a fit of furious giggles.

*

That evening, LordsRossignol and de Vere hosted a banquet in the great hall of the castle. Alais was forced to sit at the head table next to Carenza instead of gossiping with her friends, as she would have preferred. Worse, she was going to have to suffer through being introduced to the various noblemen who had come for the tournament as they came to pay respects to their hosts.

Candles cast warm light on the wood trestle tables in the hall, and braziers were scattered around the vast room to take the chill out of the brisk autumn air. It seemed as if half of Winchelsea was dining with them this evening. Nearly fifty people were amassed, if she had to guess. The sounds of laughter and the clinking of tankards completed the festive mood, as they all nibbled on bread and cheese, awaiting the feast. Lucky them. They weren’t on display and could simply enjoy the party.

“Now remember, treat them all with equal favor,” her mother whispered as they made their way to the head table. “You won’t like all of them, but you must pretend you do. You can’t afford favorites this early. We want them all to think they are in the running so that they bid each other up when speaking with your father about the terms of an alliance.”

“I’m not a heifer at market, Mother,” she murmured through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the many eyes that were turned her way. Normally, she didn’t mind attention, but on this day, they weren’t admiring so much as scrutinizing. Her stomach flip-flopped, and she swallowed hard.

Her mother took her firmly by the elbow and steered her to her seat. “Now smile, dear. They’re all watching.”

As if she needed to be reminded. Even Sir Victor was watching as she took her seat, and he usually avoided paying any attention to her whatsoever when he wasn’t guarding her. Their eyes met, and he quickly looked away, turning to Daniel, and asking something she didn’t catch. But she didn’t miss the slight reddening of his cheeks. At least her dress was having its intended effect. If she could get a rise out of Sir Victor, then her suitors ought to be properly dazzled.

“Good evening, Lord Daniel, Lord Martin,” said a tall, middle-aged, reedy man with a large bald spot and a fringe of mouse-brown hair who approached the table right after Alais sat down. “Lord Louis, Castellan of Hawkhurst at your service. Your cousin sends his respects, Lord Daniel.” He bowed deeply, and Daniel inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Lord Martin, it has been too long! I see your little girls aren’t so little anymore.”

Hawkhurst. She had no desire to have anything to do with the place, not after last year’s battle with Daniel’s uncle, the Earl of Hawkhurst. Lord Raymond was gone, thank heavens, replaced by his incompetent son. She planned to avoid Hawkhurst at all costs. Still, she needed to be polite to her father’s old friend.

Alais’s father smiled. “Very true, Louis. I was sorry to hear about your wife. She was a good and kind woman and will be missed by all.” Her mother nodded in sympathy. “I must say I’m surprised to see you here today after everything.”

“Well, um,” Lord Louis cleared his throat, “my son is bothering me to take another wife. He thinks his wife is overburdened taking care of us both, and so I agreed to examine my options.” He cleared his throat again, and, to Alais’s horror, looked hopefully in her direction.

No. Absolutely not.

A brief grimace crossed her father’s face before he composed himself and said as graciously as possible, “Allow me to introduce my daughters. My oldest, Carenza, is now Countess of Winchelsea, as I’m sure you’re aware. We’re all proud, though I’m not sure how I feel about my own daughter outranking me,” he joked, earning a strained smile from Carenza. “She’s holding my first grandbaby, little Charles, our tiny future earl.” He paused in his introductions to coo at the baby and make him giggle by puffing out his cheeks.

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