Page 1 of Betrothal

Chapter 1

June 1348

London, England

Where is he?

Lady Alyse de Courcy walked with studied grace into the Great Hall, her face carefully composed into pleasant lines.

Sweet Jesu, help me betray nothing of my longing to the court. But please, please let him be here.

Her stomach fluttered at the thought. Her body racked with the sudden trembling anticipation of seeing him again.

Act naturally, you fool.

She forced herself to nod and smile demurely at Lady Brisbane, one of the court’s biggest gossips. That hurdle safely past, she swept her gaze across the crowded room, searching for that one face alone.

During her first banquet, the spectacle of the Great Hall had rendered Alyse speechless. Illuminated by hundreds of gleaming candles and smoky torches, the assembled courtiers clustered here and there in tight knots. Their jewel-colored finery, embellished with gold and precious gems, glittered in the flickering light as they relayed the latest scandal of the day or planned assignations for the morrow. The collective din, increased by shouted commands to servants, rose to such a level Alyse could hear no one when they spoke to her.

Now, two months later, the magnificence of the court impressed her not at all. Barely paying attention, she jerked her rose brocade skirts out of the path of a servant carrying ale as she peered around the Hall.

Where is he? Furtive looks up and down the Hall proved futile. Is he not coming?

Despite her distraction, she managed to maintain the proper distance behind Princess Joanna as they headed toward the royal dais at the end of the Hall. As they neared his usual table, Alyse craned her neck, searching the various groups of nobles. He was not there. Her heart gave a strange little skip, and her lips quivered as disappointment washed over her. She had waited all day for this one chance and now he had not appeared.

The princess continued to her accustomed place with the royal family while Alyse turned toward the trestle tables set up on the left side of the Hall for the attendants. She joined Lady Maurya Wakefield and her husband Sir John at the table closest to the dais, all the while busily searching the courtiers.

“Your father has still not sent word?”

A sharp poke in her arm made Alyse jump. “Oh, I beg pardon, Maurya, but no, he has not given me the merest hint,” she replied absently as she scrutinized a new courtier entering the Hall.

Not him.

She shook her head then remembered herself and leaned toward her dinner companion. “My only hope is that my father’s interests and mine are similar.”

Pray God they are exactly the same.

She strained in the uncertain light to catch sight of the man whose mere presence incited her heart to riot.

“As most women can attest, Alyse, fathers’ interests are seldom the same as their daughters’.” Maurya gave a sharp laugh and glanced at her own husband.

“Aye.” The thought did little to comfort Alyse. “I only hope I will be able to accept my father’s choice with fortitude should he not choose—” She stopped abruptly before the name could escape her lips, her face heating like a flame. With a sip of ale, she tried to cover yet another blunder then glanced surreptitiously at Maurya, who wore a smug smile.

“You might as well say the name. Everyone knows you favor Lord Braeton.”

“I…I do not… He is not…” Stuttering and humiliated, Alyse closed her eyes and silently cursed to think her secret passion for Thomas Knowlton, the Earl of Braeton, had become common knowledge. Did Lord Braeton himself know of her regard? Brows puckered in fear, she turned to her friend.

“Alyse.” Maurya chuckled, though her smile was warm with understanding. “You show your heart in your face, my dear. Whenever the man is around, you fairly glow. When he’s not, you look like a pouting thundercloud.” Her tone grew even merrier. “And after this morning, well…there’s no doubt at all in anyone’s mind.”

Alyse winced at the memory.

At breakfast, when Princess Joanna had asked which author of church doctrine held her greatest interest, Alyse had replied, “Thomas Knowlton,” instead of Thomas Aquinas.

“Perhaps, Lady Alyse, you mean you could find Thomas Aquinas’s ideal of happiness in Lord Braeton?” Joanna had remarked playfully, bringing a deep flush of heat to Alyse’s cheeks and setting the other attendants laughing at her expense.

After breakfast, however, the young princess had questioned her further. “Do you favor Lord Braeton as a suitor then, Lady Alyse?”

“Aye, Highness, I do.” The telling fire had crept up toward her forehead but she had answered the princess truthfully. “I know him but little. However, when I have had the pleasure of talking with him, he seemed a most amiable courtier, well-versed in the ways of courtly manners.” She had frowned. “Except for his reluctance to dance with me.”