Slipping my shoes off, I padded over to the study door on the opposite side of the room. I could hear the fast rustling of papers and knew that Ernest had been right about Mama’s mood.
I crossed my fingers, hoping that it hadn’t been brought on by me messing something up. With my other hand, I knocked on the solid oak door. The sound echoed that of my anxious heartbeat in my ears.
The rustling stopped. I could almost imagine my mother blinking at the papers in front of her, trying to figure out where the sound had come from. I knocked again.
“Who is it?” She called out.
“Mama, it’s me.”
“Oh come in, dear! It's not locked.”
Smiling, I opened the door to reveal my mother’s hazel eyes squinting over the top of her thin glasses at me. Her face had deeper lines than I remembered, but she was still one of the prettiest women I’d ever met. Her golden brown skin was a few shades lighter than my own, since she took care to keep herself protected from the sun’s harsh rays.
“I’d be more concerned if it was! This door only locks when Ernest activates the spell, remember?
She smiled crookedly at me.
“You know, I’d forgotten that somehow. Perhaps it’s time to change that, since there are no longer troublesome children in the house.”
She set her glasses down on top of the account books, then used both hands to rub her eyes.
“I would have thought it would be something we could have changed years ago, honestly.”
“You know full well there’s a reason there were never locks on any of these doors. Your sister was a hellion. Can you imagine if she had locked herself in here and burned all the account books instead of burning her own belongings?”
I shuddered at the thought of losing years of house records in one of Aly’s tantrums when she was younger. At nineteen, she was now a pretty powerful witch. However, Alys had discovered her affinity for offensive magic at the tender age of seven.
At the time, her most important concerns were how to get the largest slice of cake from Betsy, how to avoid going to bed on time, and how to cause the most trouble for her pre-teenaged older sister, all of which had resulted in some unfortunate property damage before we had found a tutor who helped her to control it.
Mama fixed me with a stare that made me feel like she could see right through me, patting the overstuffed chair next to her.
“You didn't come in here to muse about your sister’s childhood troubles and locks, I’m sure. What’s going on, my dear?”
I sat, squirming in the chair from nerves and in an attempt to get comfortable.
“Actually, I came to ask you for some advice.” I let my tone turn the statement into a question, giving her an out.
Her face lit up, her thin, painted lips turning up into a catlike grin. Of course she wouldn’t take the out.
“Why, if I have any to offer, you are welcome to it! Tell Mama what the problem is.”
“Well… it’s a little bit delicate.”
The duchess arched her eyebrows at me.
“Delicate, you say? I don’t think you’ve ever had a delicate question for me. How delightful!”
Now I remembered why I never asked my mother for advice. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I took a deep breath and released it in a whoosh.
“Mama, don’t make this weird. I’m already vulnerable here.”
Laughing lightly, she turned her chair so that it faced mine. Crossing her legs at the ankle, she nodded at me expectantly.
“So, remember how you told me that you wanted to introduce me to all of the eligible nobles at the ball?”
She nodded, and opened her mouth to speak. I held up a finger and she closed her mouth again.
“Well, I got to thinking about it, and I wanted to ask your advice.”
“Wait, but that was before I knew you were going to be part of the honor guard,” she cut in. “I cannot introduce you properly if you're wearing full plate mail.”
“Well, that’s what I came to talk to you about. I spent the morning commissioning a gown.”
Mama’s posture straightened ever so slightly and her jaw dropped.
“What do you mean? Are you not going to be a part of the honor guard? Whyever not? It is an honor for you to be chosen so young!”
“No, no, let me explain, Mama. I spoke with Knight Commander Cedric about your concerns. They said that if I could get a gown that I was able to fight in with enough notice, that had at least a layer of chainmail, that they would approve it for wear at Prince Julian’s ball.”
Mama’s eyes lit like the wick of a candle.
“Why, that’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “But how on Earth are you going to be able to wear a gown with a layer of chain mail in it? You won’t be able to dance in a mail shirt. It would be scandalous, and hardly any prettier than plate mail.”
“That’s the thing!” I nearly shouted in excitement. I brought my voice back to a normal volume before continuing. “I found a blacksmith and tailor that already work together, and the blacksmith is going to specially design some chain mail to be worked into the gown. Here, let me show you the sketch.”
I reached for my satchel, then remembered I’d tossed it on my desk.
“Just a moment. Oh!”
I opened the study door to find someone else standing there, surprising both myself and the servant carrying the tray of now-steeped tea.
They wore the simple black trousers and white shirt that all of the servants wore, with a mulberry scarf around their neck that contrasted well with their pale blonde hair, which was tied up into a loose bun.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Juniper!”
“I’m so sorry, miss!”
We spoke at the same time and then laughed together.
“Please come in. I just needed to fetch something,” I told them. They did as they were told, setting the tray on the end of the desk and serving my mother while I fetched the sketchbook. Crossing the threshold to my own room, I dug into my satchel and pulled out my notebook. Dashing back into the study, Juniper was pouring my tea.
They placed the now full, steaming mug of tea on the end table next to my chair, and bowed.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Grace?”
Mama smiled graciously but shook her head.
“No, this is more than enough, Juniper. Thank you. And tell your mother I said hello.”
“I will, Your Grace. Thank you.”
They blushed, smiling up at Mama as they left the room.
“I’ve got my sketch here. I made a copy of it for Poppy and Cormac, but here’s the original.”
“For whom?”
“Sorry, I got ahead of myself. The blacksmith and tailor. You’d remember Cormac from Teagan, Mama!”
“The blacksmith you apprenticed for, for a summer? I didn’t realize he would be willing to take something like this on.”
She looked over the sketch appraisingly.
“This is quite a lovely design, Genevieve. This might just work, even for Knight Commander Cedric’s severe requirements. You can even add your pauldrons on top of the sleeves here, and make it even more knight-like.”
“Oh, you’re right. That’s brilliant!”
“Otherwise, you designed this beautifully and chose an excellent blacksmith. If this Poppy is as good as he is, then this gown will come together in no time.”
I beamed at my mother.
“I’m so glad you approve. It will be pricy, but it will be worth it, I think. Now, onto the delicate part…”
Vivienne laughed.
“What can I help you with, my dear?”
“Well, it’s about a man.”
Vivienne threw back her head and laughed. The mid-afternoon sunlight glinted off of her white teeth.
“The most delicate things usually are.”
I knew she was right about that.
“Well… going back to the introductions, I was wondering if you could introduce me to the Duke of Wolv
ington?”
I looked up at my mother through my eyelashes, biting my teeth
“The King’s son? Duke Avery? That Duke of Wolvington?”
“Yeah. I think he’s really handsome, and I know he’s not seeing anybody? If I’ve got to be introduced to the entire kingdom, then I’d like to be introduced to him.”
Mama waved a hand at her face dramatically, wiping fake tears from her eyes with the other.
“My baby’s all grown up and asking me to introduce her to a man who is in line for the throne. I never thought this day would come.”
“Mama, there is no need to be this dramatic. I’ve asked you to introduce me to people before!”
“Yes, but not the King’s second son! Everyone you’ve asked me to introduce you to is someone you needed to know as a knight, not someone you thought was worth courting. This is a momentous occasion!”
I knew my face was bright red from embarrassment. I wanted to hide, but knew that I wouldn’t be able to until this conversation was over.
“I apologize, but I have to make a big deal out of this. Just between these four walls. Everywhere else, I will be as nonchalant as ever, I promise.”
She paused, tapping her fingers on her legs.
“You know, I’m fairly certain that Alys trained with Duke Avery for a while in school. I believe she could make the introduction for you.”
“Are you trying to kill me? Between the two of you, I will never live this down.”
Vivienne leaned forward, grinning a lion’s grin at me. I stared back at her and groaned.
“It’s too late for regrets, my dear. You can’t take it back now. Your father will be here with your sister in two weeks. In the meantime, I’m going to give you a refresher on how to be a proper lady.”
“I already regret asking.”
CORMAC
Finn was being a busybody, as usual. Whenever we had a large or difficult order come in, I tended to work overtime to make sure that everything got done as it needed to be. He had long since decided that it was his job to take care of me, and I hadn’t stopped him. I knew that he worried about me, especially as we got further into the testing process for the swatches I had made. It was frustrating me to no end, and my language had gotten so bad that Poppy had banned me from their shop.
Their neighbors were much more genteel than mine had ever pretended to be. Poppy hadn’t disappeared, though. That was when they had taken to bringing some of their own work to the forge in the evenings, keeping up the quiet companionship while we worked.
Since we both had a tendency to get sucked into our work, Finn had decided that it was his responsibility to keep the both of us fed.
He had dragged us both out of the shop every night for the last week with increasingly silly excuses, ranging from needing help carrying something to thinking he’d seen a cat and wanted to catch it to wanting company to go see a show that just so happened to be at a restaurant Poppy had mentioned wanting to go to.
He was a good kid, but he wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was. Poppy and I played along. While it wasn’t technically Finn’s job to make sure that we both ate regularly, I had to admit that it did tend to make his job easier in the long run.
A well-fed blacksmith was a happy blacksmith. A happy blacksmith was an easier master to work for, and tended to pay for his apprentice’s meals.
Tonight was no different. I could see Finn trying to figure out an excuse to get us out of the shop.
“Where do you intend to drag us tonight, boy?” I growled good-naturedly, making Finn jump. “I’m fairly certain we've been to every ale house and bakery that's open late into the evening in the city in the last week. Or did you think you were being subtle?”
From where they sat behind me, Poppy leaned out and winked.
“I quite liked the bakery we went to a few days ago. Their game pie was delightful, and so artfully decorated! And their house ale wasn’t bad, either. ”
I rubbed a hand down my cheeks, stroking my full beard in thought.
“Is that the one that’s a few streets over from the noble’s homes?” I wasn’t as familiar with the city as Poppy was. They nodded.
“Let’s go there for dinner,” Poppy decided. “Come along, Finn. We’ll feed you for your trouble.”
“Let me grab my purse,” I muttered.
“Come along, my fair fellows. Let’s go find something to eat, shall we? And Cormac, leave the grousing to the hunters. We’ll all work better on a full stomach.” Poppy flounced out to the front room and waited while I ran back to my apartments to change my shirt and grab my money.
POPPY
After we’d been back from dinner for over an hour, metal clattered to the floor, followed swiftly by the sound of Cormac letting loose a string of curses that would have curled my mother’s toes if she’d been there to hear it.
I raised my eyebrows at the man who was now hopping around on one foot.
“Is that language truly necessary? You’re in polite company, remember?”
He scowled at me unrepentantly.
“As if your language would be any better if you dropped a slew of chainmail on those dainty feet of yours! D’you expect me to curtsy and thank it for falling on my toes?”
I simply waited, my mouth in a firm line that was not quite a smile or a frown. After a few heartbeats, he quit scowling and gingerly allowed his left foot to touch the ground again.
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right, dear. I know you’re a bear when you’re in pain. But really, I wish you’d refrain from using such language where Finn and Isabel can hear you. I don’t want them picking it up.”
He stared at me for a moment, then his jaw went slack with astonishment.
“Finn and Isabel? They’re both nearly full grown. And I’m sure this isn’t the worst language they’ve ever heard.”
I opened my mouth to reply but he waved a hand at me preemptively.
“But I’ll keep my cursing to myself as much as possible. Sorry for offending, Poppy.”
“That’s all I ask. Now, would you like help with that chainmail or is it going to live on the floor now?”
He snorted.
“Oh, aye. I’ve decided to carpet the place in chainmail. That way, if anyone breaks in barefoot, they’ll have a surprise coming to them.”
I grinned at him. I loved it when he got sarcastic. It always led to him being his most ridiculous.
“Well, that sounds quite revolutionary. I’ll be sure to tell the corner crier that you’re entering a new business—arrow-proof floors! And in the meantime, I’ll help you clean this up.”
I rose, shaking the wrinkles out of my skirts, and walked across the smithy to him. Hiking them up so they wouldn’t get dirty, I crouched against the packed dirt floor and lifted the edge of the garment he had been working on. It was heavier than I’d expected it to be.
I rose, pulling it with me and looking closely at the pattern that he had been working with the thin metal links. As the lamp light played off of their hammered surfaces, I realized that the pattern was not that different from the one I had been working on for a knitted lacework shawl for another client.
“Have you ever noticed the similarities between the pattern of your chainmail and a basic knit stitch?”
Cormac didn’t answer me for a moment, taking the metal from my hands and laying it gently onto his work bench next to the wrenches he had been using before.
Beside him sat a wicker basket full of other, torso-sized swatches for Finn to test in the morning. Each one was a different weight so we could see exactly what size wire we needed to get the protection Ser Genevieve needed.
“No, but now that you mention it, the creation process isn’t that different. Just replace the wrenches with knitting needles and it’s about the same. I wonder if you even could knit with a thick wire like this…”
I was intrigued by the idea and kept thinking while he picked his tools up and went back to work.
“It’s
a bit less pliable than yarn would be, but I’m sure that it’s possible. You could make some beautiful lacework jewelry like that, if you got really good at it.”
He whirled around, his wrenches still in his hands, looking for all the world like a man who’d seen the Goddess. I hadn’t even made it back to my chair and my own project yet.
“Poppy, you’re a genius!”
“Yes, I am… but what have I done to deserve your praise this time?”
“I could knit these links to each other and make something that’s lighter and more flexible without being horrifically heavy.”
Oh. Oh.
“That might just work,” I mused. “The wire would have to be pretty thick in order to hold up the chainmail and be as protective as it needs to be for Genevieve’s purposes… but I think it’s doable!”
He dropped his wrenches on the wood and crossed the room in two strides, his arms and his lips spread wide, making me feel welcomed. I could feel my mouth smile in reaction and my traitorous cheeks turn pink. I only hoped he couldn’t see it in the ill light.
He grabbed me up and pulled me close to his chest, careful to avoid crushing me.
“I’m so glad I know you, Poppy. You are an absolute delight.”
Now I was even more grateful he couldn’t see my face. I could feel the heat reaching the tips of my ears.
When he let me go, I cleared my throat.
“You are a flatterer, my good sir.”
He slapped a hand to his chest dramatically.
“I am no such thing! You wound me! When have I ever been accused of such a crime?”
“Well, right now, for one. I’m sure you’ve been accused of being a massive flirt before, you old coot.”
A booming laugh burst out of his chest, one that I couldn’t help but join him in. My soprano giggle intertwined with his baritone guffaw making music of our combined delight.
“I may have been called a massive flirt, but that’s definitely the first time I’ve been called an old coot. Why can’t you just take a compliment?”
A Knight to Remember Page 3