…” Cecily bit her lip for a moment. “Even now, Etheldred Cobb is near to shouting down the hall because her futuredaughter-in-law has insulted her by not joining her and Clement for breakfast. I do believe the old woman wants to show off her son’s prize. God forgive me for being malicious, but that woman tries my charity, Sybilla! She or Alys will kill the other one inside of a fortnight.”
“They’ll come to an agreement, I’m sure,” Sybilla said over her shoulder as she searched through her clothes for a robe.
“What should I tell Lady Blodshire, then? She’s said she won’t go home until she sees Alys. Clement, too, but for entirely different reasons, I suspect. And I have to be at chapel again in a half hour, so I can’t entertain them. I’m certain with as engaged as you have been entertaining our guests that you have simply forgotten that it is the Sabbath.”
Another rap at her door. “Your tea, my lady.”
“I’ll get it.” Cecily turned to the door and admitted Sybilla’s personal maids. There were three. One carried the silver tray bearing Sybilla’s typical light breakfast, one hugged an armful of bolts of cloth, and the other wielded a thick, bound ledger—Sybilla’s dragon of a schedule.
Sybilla buried her face in two handfuls of gown and steeled herself against the scream that wanted to explode from her throat. Could she not have one single moment of peace? A bit of privacy to mourn what might have been with the man who’d just left her room?
She raised her head when she felt the silk of her missing robe drape over her shoulders—one of her maids was wrapping it around her—and Sybilla pushed her arms through gratefully.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
And, just like that, her armor was donned.
Sybilla cinched the belt of her robe tightly about her waistand turned to face her sister. “Go attend your obligations, Cee. I shall deal with Blodshire myself. If Alys has not returned by supper, I shall send Clement after his beloved. Mayhap they will have a romantic encounter and she will fall hopelessly in love with him if only because of his enthusiasm and semi-daring at riding his horse for a quarter hour through the drizzle to fetch her. I’ll engage Etheldred in the fabric selection for Alys’s dress. That should please the old toad.”
Cecily smiled her pleasure at Sybilla’s words and Sybilla could not help but think again how lovely her sister was. Out of the three girls, Cecily was the best, by far.
“I’ll pray for you and your sharp tongue, Sybilla,” Cecily teased, and then blew her a kiss as she departed the chamber.
“Pray for us all,” Sybilla whispered under her breath before turning to the work her maids had brought her.
Chapter 5
Piers grumbled to himself as he lay the fire, making use of the shrinking, gray December daylight. He was still cold, he was still tired, he was still hungry, and now the first two fingers on his left hand hurt like a pair of devils.
He moved stealthily—and muttered only under his breath—to avoid waking Alys Foxe and put off her impossible presence for as long as he could. ‘Twas because of her that Piers had leaned against a hard log all of the day, his head jerking up painfully whenever he would nod off. As exhausted—both mentally and physically—as he was, he could not allow himself to relax while in the open daylight. Let the girl get her sleep, for when she woke she would have no excuse now not to leave Piers to his lethal mission. Once he was rid of her, he would be able to rest. Hell, even keeping up his torturous pace would seem peaceful without her inane chatter following him.
Gray smoke curled up from the tinder, birthed by the orange sparks beneath the twigs, and Piers lay the side of his face to the ground to blow up the flames. A satisfying crackle promised that at least soon he would bewarm. He sat up on his knees once more and brushed his hands together.
“Are you going hunting?”
Piers
“They’ll come to an agreement, I’m sure,” Sybilla said over her shoulder as she searched through her clothes for a robe.
“What should I tell Lady Blodshire, then? She’s said she won’t go home until she sees Alys. Clement, too, but for entirely different reasons, I suspect. And I have to be at chapel again in a half hour, so I can’t entertain them. I’m certain with as engaged as you have been entertaining our guests that you have simply forgotten that it is the Sabbath.”
Another rap at her door. “Your tea, my lady.”
“I’ll get it.” Cecily turned to the door and admitted Sybilla’s personal maids. There were three. One carried the silver tray bearing Sybilla’s typical light breakfast, one hugged an armful of bolts of cloth, and the other wielded a thick, bound ledger—Sybilla’s dragon of a schedule.
Sybilla buried her face in two handfuls of gown and steeled herself against the scream that wanted to explode from her throat. Could she not have one single moment of peace? A bit of privacy to mourn what might have been with the man who’d just left her room?
She raised her head when she felt the silk of her missing robe drape over her shoulders—one of her maids was wrapping it around her—and Sybilla pushed her arms through gratefully.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
And, just like that, her armor was donned.
Sybilla cinched the belt of her robe tightly about her waistand turned to face her sister. “Go attend your obligations, Cee. I shall deal with Blodshire myself. If Alys has not returned by supper, I shall send Clement after his beloved. Mayhap they will have a romantic encounter and she will fall hopelessly in love with him if only because of his enthusiasm and semi-daring at riding his horse for a quarter hour through the drizzle to fetch her. I’ll engage Etheldred in the fabric selection for Alys’s dress. That should please the old toad.”
Cecily smiled her pleasure at Sybilla’s words and Sybilla could not help but think again how lovely her sister was. Out of the three girls, Cecily was the best, by far.
“I’ll pray for you and your sharp tongue, Sybilla,” Cecily teased, and then blew her a kiss as she departed the chamber.
“Pray for us all,” Sybilla whispered under her breath before turning to the work her maids had brought her.
Chapter 5
Piers grumbled to himself as he lay the fire, making use of the shrinking, gray December daylight. He was still cold, he was still tired, he was still hungry, and now the first two fingers on his left hand hurt like a pair of devils.
He moved stealthily—and muttered only under his breath—to avoid waking Alys Foxe and put off her impossible presence for as long as he could. ‘Twas because of her that Piers had leaned against a hard log all of the day, his head jerking up painfully whenever he would nod off. As exhausted—both mentally and physically—as he was, he could not allow himself to relax while in the open daylight. Let the girl get her sleep, for when she woke she would have no excuse now not to leave Piers to his lethal mission. Once he was rid of her, he would be able to rest. Hell, even keeping up his torturous pace would seem peaceful without her inane chatter following him.
Gray smoke curled up from the tinder, birthed by the orange sparks beneath the twigs, and Piers lay the side of his face to the ground to blow up the flames. A satisfying crackle promised that at least soon he would bewarm. He sat up on his knees once more and brushed his hands together.
“Are you going hunting?”
Piers
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