“Is that not what you said to my lady wife once?” Rob asked. “You seemed to insinuate that it is easy to get a person alone. To pay them back for any perceived threat with the promise of punishment.”
De Clare’s face went a little more pale.
“Don’t speak to her. Don’t speak about her,” Rob said, glaring hard into de Clare’s eyes. “Ever.”
De Clare stepped back, but the slick, smug smile returned. “Come along, Margaret. Why don’t we get to know each other a little better away from such company?”
He reached for her hand again, but she stepped back. “You will address me as Lady Margaret, until such time as we are wed,” she told him, her voice quiet and strong. “And though I will obey my father, I will not go anywhere with you now.”
His face twisted. “Fine. But do not let these people give you any delusions, Lady Margaret. You will marry me, and when you do, you will not enjoy the same disgusting prideful tendencies as she does. You will be a proper wife.”
She drew a breath. “Does that mean you will also be a proper husband, my lord?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, his upper lip lifting in something caught between a smile and a snarl. “I will do what I please, and I won’t be questioned by my wife. Think on that, Lady Margaret.”
He turned away, and Margaret looked at me, her face grim and her chin raised.
I saw Winchester. He were standing close, close enough to hear, and he watched her. She saw him, and he smiled at her, proud and loving, and she drew in a deep breath, nodding once to him.
Rob rubbed my hand, still captive in his, with his thumb. “Isabel,” he murmured.
Isabel, Princess of England and wife of Prince John were there in her full glory, a small crowd of her ladies around her. She saw me, and looked at Rob and frowned. She raised her chin in a poor imitation of Eleanor, looked at us, and waited.
We moved forward, Margaret trailing behind us. I curtsied and Rob bowed. “My lady Princess,” Rob greeted. “It is excellent to see you again so soon after midwinter.”
“And you, my lord Sheriff,” she said, frowning in my direction. “Or is it my lord Leaford now?” she asked, her lip curling a little. “I’m so relieved to hear you haven’t perished, Lady Leaford.”
“Thank you,” I told her stiff. “And you can address us as Earl and Lady Huntingdon.”
She didn’t look much surprised, but it were the ladies behind her that gasped. “So Richard has created you.”
“Yes,” Rob said, smiling. “But my lady, we never got a chance to speak in Nottingham. And you know, as we were riding down here we saw the most beautiful Welsh ponies—do you remember that pony you had as a child?”
She looked at him. “Tulip? Why, my lord, how strange that you would recall that.”
“Of course,” he said. “I remember when my father was in attendance at court and we visited Gloucester. You were an accomplished rider even then.”
Her eyes lit. “Oh! That’s right—you kept sneaking her sugar cubes and she got sick,” she recalled.
He laughed, and she smiled with him. “Your father was furious,” Rob said.
“And you wouldn’t let me take the blame,” she said, nodding. “I remember.”
He lifted a shoulder, and I wondered if that were his intent all along, to remind her of a debt she owed him, even in such a small way.
Margaret came forward and curtsied low. “My lady Princess,” she greeted soft.
“Lady Margaret, welcome,” Isabel said, with something that I thought were rather close to genuine affection. “Why are you not with the queen mother? She has not been imperiled again, has she?”
“No, my lady Princess,” Margaret said, rising. “My father wishes me to marry.”
Isabel smiled, her eyes finding Winchester. “How lovely! We need a wedding to raise our spirits. What a delicious idea.”
“To my lord de Clare,” Margaret said, softer, meeting Isabel’s eyes.
The joy went out of Isabel’s face, and her ladies behind her murmured. “Oh. That will not suit,” she said.
Margaret shook her head, red flushing her cheeks.
“Is your father coming to court?” Isabel asked.
Margaret nodded. “Within the week, my lady.”
“Hm. We shall see what we can do to convince him otherwise,” she said, glancing to Winchester again.
“Thank you, my lady Princess,” Margaret murmured, never failing to look the part of the perfect, demure lady.
Isabel’s eyes raked thoughtful over Rob. “I heard there have been troubles in Nottingham,” she said to him. “If your wife will excuse us, you should tell me how you quelled such forces, and Margaret shall come with us. She desperately needs a story of adventure.”
Rob turned to me, touching my cheek for a moment, kissing where his hand were, and then kissing my hand like he couldn’t let me go just yet. “I’ll be a moment, my love.”
I nodded, and his eyes spoke a warning—he may not be beside me, but I knew he would be watching me, and wouldn’t stand for someone hurting me.
Like I would ever need such a reminder.
I nodded to him, and I caught Isabel’s thoughtful, frowning gaze as she watched us. He straightened and offered her his arm, and her ladies closed behind them as they turned to walk along the river.
“Must be my turn,” Winchester said, coming up beside me and catching my hand. He tucked it into his arm. “Your Grace.”
De Clare’s face went a little more pale.
“Don’t speak to her. Don’t speak about her,” Rob said, glaring hard into de Clare’s eyes. “Ever.”
De Clare stepped back, but the slick, smug smile returned. “Come along, Margaret. Why don’t we get to know each other a little better away from such company?”
He reached for her hand again, but she stepped back. “You will address me as Lady Margaret, until such time as we are wed,” she told him, her voice quiet and strong. “And though I will obey my father, I will not go anywhere with you now.”
His face twisted. “Fine. But do not let these people give you any delusions, Lady Margaret. You will marry me, and when you do, you will not enjoy the same disgusting prideful tendencies as she does. You will be a proper wife.”
She drew a breath. “Does that mean you will also be a proper husband, my lord?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, his upper lip lifting in something caught between a smile and a snarl. “I will do what I please, and I won’t be questioned by my wife. Think on that, Lady Margaret.”
He turned away, and Margaret looked at me, her face grim and her chin raised.
I saw Winchester. He were standing close, close enough to hear, and he watched her. She saw him, and he smiled at her, proud and loving, and she drew in a deep breath, nodding once to him.
Rob rubbed my hand, still captive in his, with his thumb. “Isabel,” he murmured.
Isabel, Princess of England and wife of Prince John were there in her full glory, a small crowd of her ladies around her. She saw me, and looked at Rob and frowned. She raised her chin in a poor imitation of Eleanor, looked at us, and waited.
We moved forward, Margaret trailing behind us. I curtsied and Rob bowed. “My lady Princess,” Rob greeted. “It is excellent to see you again so soon after midwinter.”
“And you, my lord Sheriff,” she said, frowning in my direction. “Or is it my lord Leaford now?” she asked, her lip curling a little. “I’m so relieved to hear you haven’t perished, Lady Leaford.”
“Thank you,” I told her stiff. “And you can address us as Earl and Lady Huntingdon.”
She didn’t look much surprised, but it were the ladies behind her that gasped. “So Richard has created you.”
“Yes,” Rob said, smiling. “But my lady, we never got a chance to speak in Nottingham. And you know, as we were riding down here we saw the most beautiful Welsh ponies—do you remember that pony you had as a child?”
She looked at him. “Tulip? Why, my lord, how strange that you would recall that.”
“Of course,” he said. “I remember when my father was in attendance at court and we visited Gloucester. You were an accomplished rider even then.”
Her eyes lit. “Oh! That’s right—you kept sneaking her sugar cubes and she got sick,” she recalled.
He laughed, and she smiled with him. “Your father was furious,” Rob said.
“And you wouldn’t let me take the blame,” she said, nodding. “I remember.”
He lifted a shoulder, and I wondered if that were his intent all along, to remind her of a debt she owed him, even in such a small way.
Margaret came forward and curtsied low. “My lady Princess,” she greeted soft.
“Lady Margaret, welcome,” Isabel said, with something that I thought were rather close to genuine affection. “Why are you not with the queen mother? She has not been imperiled again, has she?”
“No, my lady Princess,” Margaret said, rising. “My father wishes me to marry.”
Isabel smiled, her eyes finding Winchester. “How lovely! We need a wedding to raise our spirits. What a delicious idea.”
“To my lord de Clare,” Margaret said, softer, meeting Isabel’s eyes.
The joy went out of Isabel’s face, and her ladies behind her murmured. “Oh. That will not suit,” she said.
Margaret shook her head, red flushing her cheeks.
“Is your father coming to court?” Isabel asked.
Margaret nodded. “Within the week, my lady.”
“Hm. We shall see what we can do to convince him otherwise,” she said, glancing to Winchester again.
“Thank you, my lady Princess,” Margaret murmured, never failing to look the part of the perfect, demure lady.
Isabel’s eyes raked thoughtful over Rob. “I heard there have been troubles in Nottingham,” she said to him. “If your wife will excuse us, you should tell me how you quelled such forces, and Margaret shall come with us. She desperately needs a story of adventure.”
Rob turned to me, touching my cheek for a moment, kissing where his hand were, and then kissing my hand like he couldn’t let me go just yet. “I’ll be a moment, my love.”
I nodded, and his eyes spoke a warning—he may not be beside me, but I knew he would be watching me, and wouldn’t stand for someone hurting me.
Like I would ever need such a reminder.
I nodded to him, and I caught Isabel’s thoughtful, frowning gaze as she watched us. He straightened and offered her his arm, and her ladies closed behind them as they turned to walk along the river.
“Must be my turn,” Winchester said, coming up beside me and catching my hand. He tucked it into his arm. “Your Grace.”
