“I will write to you,” he said.
“I’ll write back.”
“It will sound like business.”
“Most of it.”
His mouth shifted very slightly at that. Then, without looking as though he meant to, he brushed his bare knuckles once across the inside of my wrist where my sleeve had slipped back.
The grooms didn’t see anything.
I felt it in my spine.
“Try not to scandalize the court,” I said, because if I did not say something ordinary I was going to throw myself at him in front of half the stableyard. Was this what women felt like in wartime photographs? Sweethearts seeing soldiers onto trains while trying not to dissolve in public?
“I intend to scandalize the court immediately and on principle.”
He swung into the saddle in one smooth motion as the destrier wheeled once beneath him and settled. As he rode out through the gates, he didn’t look back. If he had, I think I would have run after him, begged him not to go.
Instead I stood at the edge of the bailey until the sound of hoofbeats disappeared into the mist, and then a while longer, until one of the grooms cleared his throat politely in the universal tone ofmy lady, do you require assistance or are you simply suffering dramatically in the rain?.
The Baron was already at supper when I returned to the hall. The room felt empty with both sons gone even though it was bustling with servants.
There was no Aldwin laughing too loudly. No Geoffrey seated beside his father with one hand around a wine cup while quietly dismantling someone’s argument. The great hall seemed larger now, its noise thinner somehow, as though the castle itself had noticed the absence.
The Baron sat alone at the high table beneath the banners of Thames in dark green wool despite the warmth of the evening. A servant poured wine into my cup as I took the seat Geoffrey usually occupied.
For a moment neither of us spoke. Below us, servants crossed the hall carrying platters of roasted river trout dressed with parsley and sorrel, trenchers of dark bread still warm from the ovens, soft white cheese, buttered peas, and a dish of cherriessplit open by the summer heat. Somewhere near the kitchens a dog barked once and was immediately shushed.
The Baron cut into the trout. “You are riding adequately now.”
It was the closest thing to praise I had received from him in a week.
“I fall off less often.”
“Progress.”
I hid a smile in my wine. The Gascon red tonight was lighter than the bottle opened during the council before Runnymede, watered for supper and fragrant with spice. Geoffrey would have barely touched it. Aldwin would already be arguing with someone three cups deep.
The thought landed harder than I expected. The Baron seemed to notice.
“Empty castles are unpleasant,” he said abruptly.
I looked up. “You miss them.”
“I miss their efficiency.” He tore off a piece of bread. “Aldwin creates problems but solves them quickly. Geoffrey prevents problems before they exist. Together they reduce my workload considerably.”
I laughed despite myself. One corner of his mouth moved slightly, which on the Baron of Thames was practically hysterical laughter.
He ate another bite before speaking again. “Your gowns are insufficient.”
Thrown by the change in topic, I blinked at him. “For what?”
“For your current station in this household.”
Which was not remotely an answer. I set down my cup carefully. “I was not aware I had a station.”
“You do. Geoffrey made me aware of his intent to woo you before he left. You are the highest ranking lady at Thames.”He gestured once with his knife toward my sleeves. “Those are serviceable but provincial.”