Page 57 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“Nay, my lady.”

“Diggory’s courting Gertie,” said Cuthbert slyly.

“Oh, indeed?” asked Linnet, noticing the tips of the groom’s ears had turned a dull red. “A very good girl, Gertie.”

Diggory shot a look of annoyance at Cuthbert and cleared his throat. “Oh, aye,” he mumbled. Linnet realized that men of all rank must not like discussing matters of the heart and sighed. She would ask Gertie how long they had been courting. Men were strange creatures.

After the riding lesson, they returned to the castle via the courtyard. Linnet made sure to nod and smile at any of the servants that she passed. Although some of them still looked alarmed at the sight of her, others at least were now smiling back at her and meeting her gaze as they bobbed their heads in greeting. Back at the castle she found a parcel had been sent from Mr. Hatton the cobbler. Inside was a very neat pair of ankle boots in brown leather and a pair of black-leather shoes with a strap that passed over the foot, which Linnet was thrilled with. These would do very well indeed! She sat down and wrote a note of thanks to the shoemaker and counted out the sum of money he was owed along with a tip for the speed with which her order was delivered.

After she had dispatched a servant into town to deliver the payment she settled to some further illustration of Sir Maurency’s tales. There was a chill in the air, so she had a fire lit in the grate and drew a warm shawl about her shoulders and lost herself amongst the vellum pages. A couple of hours had surely passed when Nan the maid knocked on the door and announced she had a visitor, which turned out to be Lady Enid Jauncey. Cuthbert had been snoozing on the window seat and sprang up to fetch refreshments from the kitchen. Linnet made haste to kiss her friend’s cheek and draw her to the fire.

“Enid! You are very welcome. Most welcome. Did you ride over alone?” Enid’s cheeks were flushed and she wore a deep-red dress which complemented her brown eyes and dark hair, which was braided into a coronet about her head and covered with a fine lawn veil.

“Indeed,” Enid agreed, returning her embrace. She held onto Linnet’s upper arms and peered into her face. “I think you have a good, high color today Linnet. You look very well,” she said approvingly.

Linnet blushed with pleasure. “Thank you. I have had my first riding lesson this afternoon. Please, sit down.”

Enid sat beside her on a cushioned bench. “And how did you find it?”

“I liked it very much. They found me a very patient horse.”

Enid laughed. “When you have found your seat you can try a more spirited mount.”

“Oh no, I am very happy with Fira and have no aspirations to be a great horsewoman. Only to be able to get out and about.”

“But what is this?” asked Enid, leaning forward to examine her manuscript. “Never say this is your own work, Linnet?”

“Oh, ’tis just something I do to occupy my spare time.”

“Oh, but these pages are very fine! Such beautiful penmanship. And the illustrations . . . they’re exquisite!”

“Thank you. It is the work of some several years now. I am illustrating the tales of Sir Maurency of Jorde.”

“What a lovely idea!” exclaimed Enid. “How very talented you are. It has been some years since I read those tales. May I see your completed manuscript sometime?”

“Thank you. Yes, of course.” Linnet hesitated. “At the moment my husband has it. He has never read the tales before.”

“What a treat for him.”

“Er, yes,” agreed Linnet, though she had yet to see Mason turn one page of it and it had been on his bedside cabinet for well over a week now.

“Is this Sir Maurency? How funny, I always imagined him with flaxen hair.”

Linnet coughed. “In truth, I think I may have at the start of the story. I will have to go back and ink black over the finished pages.”

Enid gurgled with laughter. “How many years ago did you begin it?”

“When I was thirteen. Some eleven years ago.”

“Goodness! It really is a labor of love!”

“Yes, they were my father’s favorite. His confessor taught me to illustrate. He was a priest.”

“I suppose it was a source of solace when you were shut up in your tower?”

“Yes,” agreed Linnet absently. In truth, it had been more like an obsession of her every waking hour since her father died. It was at least a hundred pages of intricately decorated pages. Now she had so many other things in her life it had dwindled to a pleasurable pastime once again.

“Linnet?” Enid’s gentle voice broke her reverie.