Page 6 of Betrothal

As they continued down the long side of the Hall, Geoffrey leaned over to ask, “Why so quiet, my lady? Are you in awe of me or merely stunned by the good fortune of our betrothal?”

Outraged by the conceited fool, Alyse opened her mouth to explain exactly how unimpressed she was, both with him and her so-called good fortune, but instead met eyes of darkest sapphire flickering with merriment at her indignation.

So the oaf has wits.

Alyse fought to keep her countenance firm at that thought. Observing his infectious grin helped none at all. “Nay, my lord, I do not think I would quite call it ‘awe’ that you inspire in me.”

“Then what would you call it, Lady Alyse?”

“Wariness, my lord.” She cut her eyes at him then returned her gaze to the front.

“You are wary of me, lady? Do I inspire suspicion in you?”

“Aye, my lord. That you do.”

Geoffrey slowed his pace. Another swift glance caught his frown. “Why? I am an honorable man, of good family. I served King Edward well in the recent wars. So well that I was given lands and raised in station to serve in Princess Joanna’s household. If the king himself places so much confidence in me, my lady, I think you must as well.”

Alyse’s mouth twitched with suppressed amusement at Sir Geoffrey’s impatient tone. One did not bait an unchained bear, unless one was prepared to run swiftly.

Please, Lord, let me be fleet of foot.

“I am sure His Majesty trusts you completely, Sir Geoffrey, for he has known you for some time, I believe?” After his curt nod, she continued. “The question, then, is why should I? I know you not, my lord, for I met you but moments ago. And in the few minutes since, you have managed to insult me, by making me think you would reject the marriage, then fixed me as the center of attention before the company by displaying me throughout the Hall when we were but six steps from my seat!” That irked her most of all, but she swallowed her anger and resumed the conversation with scathing civility. “Considering all these things, my lord, I do not see how even you can trust you!”

To her consternation Geoffrey relaxed and chuckled. “Aye, lady, when I behold you I do distrust myself.” Alyse saw again in his eyes that unknown flicker. “Yet I still believe you do me wrong, lady, to have so little faith in me. Be assured I would do naught to dishonor you. Even on short acquaintance, I vow to speak you fair in all things, as you are my betrothed and therefore as dear to me as my own life.”

“Very pretty words, my lord,” she answered then muttered under her breath, “would that they could be matched in pretty deeds!”

Geoffrey leaned closer. “What deed may I do, gentle lady, to prove myself worthy of your regard?”

Flustered that he had overheard her, Alyse found herself at a loss. What task could she set him? Preferably something that would get her back to her table and out of sight. Or better yet…

“I fear I would set you an impossible labor, my lord. One worthy of mighty Hercules.” That ought to flatter his ego a mite. “For I would beg you to stop time itself and delay the wedding a little.” Or a lot. “With time I would come to know you better, be better resigned to our marriage ere we speak the nuptial vows.” She looked at him, a spark of defiance edging her chin up. “As I have said, in my estimation, so far you have treated me ill.”

He faced her and gave her a captivating smile, which she had to admit was as charming as Lord Braeton’s. “I will truly have to be a Hercules to accomplish the feat you have set me, my lady. You ask merely that I defy the laws of God and man and halt the sun in its journey ‘round the earth.” His eyes took on a devilish sparkle. “Though if it will win your good opinion of me, I will fain attempt the feat.”

Alyse winced at that look, and spoke with as much good grace as she could muster. “I thank you, kind sir, for attempting to ease my mind. Should you prove yourself as successful as Hercules in this matter, you might indeed win my regard.”

Let us see if your deeds can surpass your stature, my lord.

But if he could persuade the king to defer their marriage even a little, she would be more than grateful. Because of Phillip, she had not needed to contemplate marriage to a stranger in many years. Though few women she knew managed to marry as they would choose, she had been an exception. Now thought of her betrothal to Sir Geoffrey shook her. If only they had more time.

She roused from her reverie to find they had almost reached the table and her seat with Anne and Maurya.

Thank the Lord!

A few more steps and she would be free of his company. Her head buzzed with weariness from the trials of the evening.

A second glance showed another person at their table: Lord Braeton sat speaking to Sir John Wakeland.

Dear God, can you rub more salt into my wounds?

Her heart fluttered at the sight of him and she cast her gaze to the floor. This was too cruel. Tears threatened, but she bit them back and managed a small, tight smile for Lord Braeton. She prayed they would hurry past the man on whose arm she longed to be and have their encounter done.

But Geoffrey stopped in front of his friend and, to her horror, began a formal presentation with a courtly flourish. “My Lady Alyse de Courcy, I present to you my good friend, Thomas Knowlton, the Earl of Braeton.”

Alyse hoped the expression on her face approached pleasant. “I know Lord Braeton a little from court, my lord, but look forward to a better acquaintance with him after we are wed.”

If only ’twere the other way around.