by Nicole Locke
Alice took a fortifying sip.
* * *
Following behind Eldric, Hugh stepped into the mayor’s dining room, expecting the reactions of the seated company. In past similar situations, he had revelled in the quiet bite of that moment when complacency turned to outraged surprise or amused curiosity.
Unfortunately, this time he wasn’t able to absorb all the surprised reactions on his sudden appearance before their ever-polite host and hostess rose to greet Eldric, who was already by their side.
With barely a glance from Elizabeth, the servants swiftly rearranged the table settings to make room for him. Other servants left to retrieve additional food.
All of it worked like societal clockwork. Even the guests seemed to move with precision as they adjusted their seats. Except for a few people, he didn’t recognise anyone. Not a surprise since most of them washed their hands of his entire family.
What was surprising was that Eldric had lied when he’d said he was permitted to bring a guest. The evidence of the servants adding a place for him was all too clear. Hugh would have to pay him back later for this trick.
Far less interesting was the fact that Baldrick Alistair was still alive—and fatter than ever. And his wife was already slurring, despite the early hour of the evening.
But there was alertness from the two single men he instantly recognised. Lyman’s eyes had narrowed with unconcealed disgust even as he’d inclined his head. Mitchell had been too young to understand when Hugh had left, but appeared pleased at his return. As if his presence would revive a decidedly dull affair.
Since he, too, had a role to play, Hugh nodded to them both though he was truly aware of only one guest.
Alice—who stayed seated until the moving chairs forced her to rise, whose eyes widened in surprise and then quickly narrowed in anger and something else that flushed her cheeks.
It was a flush he shouldn’t have been able to see in the dim light of the room, but he was distinctly attuned to it despite his impoverished childhood and the secrets that would separate them for ever.
When she rose, he wondered if she would step closer to greet him. He wondered, in the state he was in, if he would close the distance.
Too much ale. He needed more control when it came to her and his mission. And surely it was the ale that had made him agree to attend tonight. It couldn’t be because Alice was here.
‘The seating is prepared.’ Elizabeth’s voice was serene, though her hands were clenched in front of her. Elizabeth—so obviously a lady. She didn’t approve of him being here, but would never insult him or Eldric by saying so.
‘Thank you, Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘for the courtesy of your home this evening.’
The lines of worry around her eyes eased. ‘It’s St Martin’s Day, Hugh, and all are welcome.’
Clever Elizabeth. Welcoming him and letting him know he wasn’t special at the same time. When they were young she’d been friendlier to him—but that had been before Alice had been forced into the empty well.
Seating himself at the place she’d indicated was for him, he loosened the tenseness in his shoulders. He was in Swaffham, sitting down to a St Martin’s Day feast, not entering unarmed into an enemy-laden field.
Although he had to wonder about that enemy field. Because subtly, strategically, Elizabeth had directed the servants to set him a place...next to Alice.
* * *
Before this moment, Alice hadn’t known it was possible to freeze with heat. Hugh was a mere hand’s breadth away. She felt more shock now than she had when she’d seen him at Court.
She felt more of his presence than ever before, too. Her eyes tracked every bit of his height, the broad sureness of his shoulders in his white tunic, the way his black leather breeches clung to his thighs, the gleam of the belt around his waist and the shine of his fine boots.
No doubt it was the unexpectedness of seeing him in the confines of her sister’s home...and realising he would be sitting next to her.
Simply that thought alone made heat suffuse her and froze her to her seat, while anger and frustration coursed jaggedly through her shock. She welcomed those emotions—intended to use them to get through this farce of a celebration.
How dare Hugh show up to her sister’s dinner? She’d been clear in the garden that she wanted nothing to do with him. And now she could do nothing to get rid of him—not without causing a scene. And she wouldn’t ruin Elizabeth’s party with accusations.
So she moved her focus elsewhere. Watched as others were seated around her and counted each place being occupied. Only then did she realise that though Hugh would sit next to her they wouldn’t share a trencher.
She had the honour of doing that with Lyman, who made her very skin crawl. But it wasn’t enough to take her attention away from Hugh, whose tall frame slid into the chair to her right like a sword into a sheath.
The ease of it escalated her hostility and awareness of him. More so as she felt the heat of him at her side smelled his unique scent of snow, pine and steel and watched the graceful lethality of his hand reaching for his goblet. Such a simple task, but it gripped her heart in her chest.
She wouldn’t make it through this dinner—knew that at some point she’d grab that goblet and pour its contents over him. And the blame wasn’t only on this man at her side, but on Elizabeth, who sat serenely next to her husband.
Her sister could have sat Hugh anywhere at the table. Knowing Alice’s resolution, she should have sat him elsewhere—several chairs down, so she couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, couldn’t...feel him. But her sister hadn’t done that because she was testing her.
So she unclenched her fingers digging into her skirts and straightened her shoulders. When a wrong had been committed, she made it right. To do so here, she wouldn’t talk to Hugh. She would persevere through this simple dinner and secure herself invitations to peoples’ homes. The King had commanded her. Hugh, who had inveigled himself an invitation, would have no power over her. As for her sister’s actions—she had courses of food to get through while she prepared her words.
* * *
Hugh grabbed his goblet, peered into its depths, and knew that the King might easily use Elizabeth as a strategist. There were two scenarios as to why she’d sat him next to Alice. Either Elizabeth had forgiven Hugh for all the perceived wrongs he had done against her sister—which he doubted, or she had done it as an experiment to see how he behaved. But, if so, why?
Hugh chanced a glance to Alice. Her chin was high, her body arched away. She was surprised by his presence, and angered by it, too.
Oh, she’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him, but Hugh had requested an audience with the King that day after their argument in the garden.
A request that had been immediately granted...as if the King had expected it. Unfortunately, nothing of Alice’s relationship with the King had been revealed.
No, his hope for answers was deterred, and he’d left the royal rooms with only more questions.
Because the King had ordered him to return to Swaffham—a town he despised, and whose people despised him. Return and spy on Alice.
And so, like the spy he was, tonight he would use her anger and surprise to his advantage. He still had too many questions when it came to Alice and her relationship with the King. Too many threatening factors, this town, the Seal, the Fenton family. Factors that needed to be tied...fixed...or at least forgotten.
Yet, all the schemes and factors were nothing when compared to the woman by his side. Even in that brief glance he saw the way her chestnut hair curled in the candle’s light, the almost familiar way she had of sitting with her back straight, her shoulders rigid. Pride and determination in her every movement. Traits that were so much her, he would have recognised them anywhere.
Alice—whom he longed for and needed as m
uch as air. Alice—who was very neatly ignoring him. And he was letting her...coward that he was.
He had never been good enough for her. And now his own actions made him a traitor to the King. Ignore Alice he must for his own sake, but a King demanded he watch her. He no longer felt like he was choking on the lies and deceit, but drowning in them.
‘It seems as if we’re sharing tonight.’
Hugh rolled the tenseness in his shoulders and turned to his right. A petite woman was looking expectantly at him. A similarly built man sat to her right. Most likely her husband, who wouldn’t be sharing her trencher as was his right.
‘It appears I’ve disrupted the seating arrangements,’ he said.
‘I don’t mind.’
He recognised that light in the woman’s eyes. He glanced at her husband, who sat with his new trencher partner. There were no warning glares sent his way. It seemed the husband didn’t mind either.
‘You don’t remember me, do you?’
She was pretty, with dark hair and hazel eyes, her cheeks and chest plump with good food and health. If he had known her, he’d forgotten her—as he had everything about this town.
He gave her an appreciative glance and noticed the light flaring in her eyes. ‘I’d like to be reminded,’ he said.
The arch of a brow, and familiarity flashed through him. It was coming to him now.
‘Maybe I won’t tell you...to see how you’ll tempt the information from me,’ she teased.
He kept his expression neutral as he glanced at the feast he was to load the trencher with. ‘May I?’
‘Of course.’
‘Is there anything you don’t want?’ he asked, as he reached for the serving spoon for the goose, and shifted to give room for the servant to pour the sauce.
‘I think I’ll take...everything.’
She’d been greedy back then as well, and had taken full advantage of the men who courted her. Even when she’d agreed to Gerald’s proposal she had flirted. Now he wondered if it went beyond that.
‘Everything is the least of what you deserve, Helen.’
‘Ah, that didn’t take long at all—and I thought it would be a fun way to pass the time. Whatever are we to do now?’
He laid thin slices of goose on the trencher and reached for the vegetable medley. ‘About what?’
‘About you coaxing other matters from me.’
She was propositioning him, and by the way her husband had turned his back and was whispering with his new companion it was clear this was sanctioned by their marriage vows.
And all of it was occurring under the watchful eye of the serene Elizabeth and her husband, Mayor of Swaffham. Was this evidence of more approval?
He’d thought the Royal Court brimmed with deception and unchecked lust, but this old town was no better.
‘You have me at a disadvantage,’ he said. ‘How am I to know what tempts you?’
There was a slight brush of her hand against his as she tore off a piece of their trencher. ‘You’re a clever man; I’m sure you’ll figure it out.’
Her lips were at full pout, her eyes knowledgeable, but open to appear guileless, innocent, when she was anything but.
‘You have too much faith in me. I’m afraid I’m not that clever.’
He saw the light dim in her eyes before she returned to her food. She took a few more bites before she gave a tap to her husband’s arm. Oh, she understood the game well enough. He’d been polite, but had fully declined her proposition.
Still, simply the fact that it had happened made him feel sick. She had taken holy vows before God with the man on her right. If he was ever so lucky as to earn a wife, he would fight God and the Devil to keep her faith in him. Naive beliefs, he knew, but nonetheless true for him.
He was a man grown, who had travelled, fought and killed. He shouldn’t be surprised that Swaffham now reflected the insidiousness prevailing over the rest of the country.
He was a twice-made fool. First with the lingering thought that Alice remained untouched, and second that this town he hated had remained the same as well.
He had drunk so much ale before he came here, and now he imbibed the wine. None of it was softening his thoughts. He was on that most hated plain of not being sober and yet not drunk enough.
Eyeing his goblet, but not taking a drink, he signalled to a servant to serve the rest of the feast laid out before them.
Knowing that nothing could make him forget his restless thoughts, he would be better keeping sober in order to perform his futile mission. Fake though it was, the King had ordered him here, and he knew he had to go through the motions.
Appearances were everything in this game.
But by all that was holy, he wanted only one night to forget where and who he was.
Chapter Six
Forcing another smile, Alice worried that she wouldn’t make it through dessert. Her sister never did anything in half-measures and, while Alice would rather give to those more in need of food, Elizabeth, the consummate hostess, would have several desserts set out in an order to highlight the wealth and orderly labour of her kitchens.
Alice wouldn’t normally be ungracious about the role Elizabeth must play as lady of the mayor’s household, but this one time she resented it. Only because by sitting here she was about to break one of God’s commandments. If Lyman pressed his thigh to hers one more time she’d take her knife and stab him with it.
Her duties to the King and her family wouldn’t allow her even to frown at him. Any sign of displeasure at being here would have her sister’s all too observant eyes noticing it. Likely then Elizabeth wouldn’t invite her to any of the upcoming festivities, and she wouldn’t be able to do what she had come to do.
To catch the eye of Lyman and Mitchell and garner invitations to their homes.
Which, it seemed, would occur sooner than she liked. She didn’t know what her sister had said to Lyman and Mitchell, but they were certainly paying her attention. All she had to do was smile and answer every one of their questions.
Unfortunately, the longer she spent in Lyman’s company, the more she wanted to leave, but Mitchell was affable enough.
Invitations hadn’t yet occurred, but perhaps they were waiting till it was more appropriate, or more private. Any woman in her situation would be honoured. After all, she wasn’t young, and they knew of her various charities and projects in the town.
For her potential suitors, she knew her family connections were important, but they were not her only attraction. So she feigned the appropriate flattery she had learned to mimic at Court, and wished Lyman would quit glancing at her chest.
How could she endure any more of this?
A glance to her sister confirmed that she’d endure it to the ends of time. Any of the people around this table could possess the Half-Thistle Seal—could be committing treason.
Even Hugh...
What was he doing here? If he’d talked to the King that day, had the King sent him here? And if so, why? Did it have to do with the Seal? Or, if the King had denied his presence, was he here because of her? That made no sense. He had rejected her that day long ago. Because of her vow to marry him, he had avoided her even before that.
No, he couldn’t be here because he’d wondered about her. It had to do with the King. And yet...
Every bite and drink she took, every question she gave and answered—through all of it she thought of Hugh sitting next to her. It didn’t matter that she kept her eyes away from him. His very presence enveloped her. Even if he hadn’t been there, she’d have been thinking of him. Either comparing his height to Lyman’s, or the colour of his eyes to Mitchell’s.
All her life she’d felt as if some thread bound them together. That they were at the whim of an unseen distaff and spindle. At the mercy of a master
spinner who twisted the thread, tightened the edges. Made something sublime or frayed. For it had always been him.
Unlike what her sister thought, it had nothing to do with the vow she had made when she was six. If he hadn’t embodied everything she’d ever wanted, how could such a flimsy childish vow ever have sustained the years of loneliness she’d had?
No, when he had rescued her she had instinctually known the man he was. So much more than his family. Determined, kind. Respectful. And his haunted eyes had clenched her heart and sealed it from opening for anyone else.
But he had changed since she saw him last. He was hardened. Cynical. And he thought her a whore. She would have nothing to do with a man who could so easily—
‘Enjoying your meal?’ Hugh said, his voice low, but not melodious. As if he’d forced the words to sound pleasant.
Alice glanced to Hugh. His eyes were intent, and there was a slight frown to his mouth as if he was determining something. His hair was still wet from the snow outside, but it looked as if it had been brutally combed with his fingers to tame the waves there. His clothes were rumpled, as if they’d been pulled out of a travelling sack. His jaw was unshaven, his demeanour worse than wear.
He had been drinking much during dinner, and if she was right, quite a lot before. And yet... And yet none of it mattered. She wanted to run her hand across the roughness of his jaw, to kiss the frown from his lips.
She also wanted to throw the contents of her goblet at him. She was a woman grown. Her musings were pathetic. More so now, since he had revealed the man he had become.
Alice forcefully stabbed at her meat and it almost skidded off her trencher. ‘Of course,’ she answered. ‘I have such lovely company surrounding me.’ She pointed to Lyman and Mitchell.
Hugh’s eyes darkened as he acknowledged that she didn’t point in his direction. ‘It seems you enjoy your company quite a bit.’
His jibe against her innocence immediately erased her feeling of vulnerability. ‘What isn’t there to enjoy?’ Alice said. ‘And I see you’re enjoying yours.’