Page 2 of Betrothal

Princess Joanna had laughed at that. “He is somewhat agreeable to look on also, perchance?”

“Aye, Your Highness, I would say very agreeable!”

The princess had given her an appraising look. “He is a young man most admired among the ladies of the court. Too much admired by some.” She had hesitated then continued. “Lord Braeton can be a very attentive courtier to those he favors, although I hear his favorites come and go rather quickly.”

“A word of warning, Your Highness?”

“Of caution, Alyse.” Joanna had shaken her head and sighed. “I would not want your hopes raised on the strength of mere courtly manners, for Lord Braeton is experienced in other ways as well.”

But the warning had been unmistakable. Alyse lamented her folly in revealing too much regard for the worldly courtier, but there could be no help for that now. Deciding to heed the princess’s advice, Alyse had resolved to put Lord Braeton out of her mind—until she had entered the Hall tonight and once again become obsessed with seeing the handsome man.

Alyse sighed and nodded to Maurya. “Aye, I do favor Lord Braeton. Who would not? If only my father had told me whom he was considering, perhaps I could have schooled myself better. But not knowing, I have allowed myself to hope I will be betrothed to a man I can love.”

“’Twill only lead to disappointment, my dear.”

“I have dealt with that, and grief as well, Maurya,” she reminded her gently.

The older woman smiled sadly and patted her hand. “I had forgotten, Alyse. Forgive me. I pray your father’s decision grants you as good a man as Sir Phillip.”

Sobered by the memories their conversation recalled, Alyse returned her attention to the bustle of the Great Hall and frowned. He had obviously decided to forgo dinner this evening.

Perhaps he has gone himself to France to offer for my hand. Her heart skipped a beat then she firmly crushed that notion. Do not even think such nonsense, Alyse. You must not fall further into folly.

“Are you still looking about at suitors, Alyse? Or only for Lord Braeton?” Anne Wythecomb, Princess Joanna’s other lady-in-waiting, sat down beside her chamber mate, an irritated smirk on her face.

Alyse closed her eyes. The exasperating girl could not wait to taunt her about that awful slip this morning. She took a deep breath. “Yes, Anne, I am still contemplating possible suitors and, no, I am not looking for Lord Braeton.”

“Oh.” Anne sent her an innocent glance. “Well, then I do not need to point out that he has just arrived.”

“What!” Alyse’s breath went out with a gasp.

“He is right over there, you ninny.” Anne gestured across the Hall. “But I thought you were not looking for him?”

“I…I am not.” Alyse tried for cool indifference and failed. “I merely wondered why he had not appeared this evening.”

“So you have been looking for him.”

The triumph in the girl’s voice firmed Alyse’s resolve. She got hold of herself and steadied her own tone. “No more than the other courtiers my father may be considering.”

Anne sniffed.

Oh no, my lady. I will brook none of your sniffs.

“I have been reflecting on the merits of Sir Patrick Sullivan,” Alyse said, watching for Anne’s reaction. “I might send word to my father asking him to consider him as a match.” Patrick was Lady Maurya’s brother and a good friend to Alyse, although until this minute she had never considered him a possible suitor.

Anne turned to stare incredulously at Alyse. “Patrick Sullivan?” she screeched, drawing the attention of several courtiers, including his sister.

Maurya broke off her conversation with her husband and swiveled around. “All right, ladies, what has my brother done now?”

“Nothing, Maurya,” Alyse spoke up before her chamber mate could. “I suggested to Anne that Patrick could be one of my prospective suitors. I suppose that surprised her.” She glared at the disagreeable attendant.

After one suspicious look, Maurya went back to her conversation with Sir John and Alyse elbowed Anne. “Have a care to keep your voice down! Do you think I want the whole court to know my business?”

“I still do not believe you are serious.” Anne cut her eyes at Alyse, a petulant frown marring her face.

“Why not?”

“He is too short, for one thing.”