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Aimee felt the color drain from her face before it surged back, hot and shaming. It seemed Lord Kentigern had finally realized how much his actions had hurt her there. Jumping up from his lap, she hurried to the looking glass, holding the pearls up to her neck, though in truth she could see nothing through the sudden tears obscuring her vision. “What a shame I cannot take them with me to Beres Caple,” she heard herself say aloud.

“Why can you not?”

“Well, only think if they were to be stolen –” she began.

“You think anyone would dare to steal the pearls from my wife’s neck?” He sounded offended, annoyed even.

“I should wear them, then?” Aimee asked uncertainly, glancing back over her shoulder.

“Do what you like,” he said gruffly. He picked up the embroidery she had abandoned on the bed. “Will you finish this?” he asked holding it up.

“It is finished,” Aimee replied stiffly. “Whenever I try to improve it, I only succeed in making matters worse.”

He muttered something, which sounded remarkably like ‘I know how you feel’, though she was sure she must have misheard him.

“I shall leave you to your packing then, wife,” he said getting to his feet.

Aimee turned from the mirror and gave him an awkward curtsey. “I thank you for your generous gift, Lord Kentigern.”

He looked startled a moment before clearing his throat. “When I said ‘bedchamber’, I really just meant … in bed,” he said, and if it had been anyone else, she would have thought the slash of hot color along his unscarred cheek denoted blushing.

“Oh, I see,” she replied blankly, though of course, she really did not. At all.

The funny thing was that, after he had gone, she could not find her embroidery of Actaeon anywhere.

22

Konrad rose early the next morning and collected Aimee’s brooch from Bulwark Lane. He swung by the ostler’s on the way back and collected Actaeon. By the time he had returned to Lime Street, Jakeman was in the courtyard loading up his own brown mare and the skewbald packhorse with saddlebags. A fine white mare was stood tethered to another post close by. Once Actaeon was added to the mix, the small courtyard seemed to be teeming with horses.

“They sent around my wife’s horse, I see.”

“Aye, milord.”

“Where’s the boy?” Konrad asked, looking round. “Didn’t I hear tell he used to work in Ankatel’s stable?”

Jakeman shook his head. “The lad is clearly nervous around horses, milord, and better off where he is.”

Konrad shrugged and made his way inside where he found his sister sat at table breaking her fast. She looked up at his entrance. “Ah, Konrad,” she greeted him, almost affably for Magnatrude. “I was hoping I would see you before you departed.”

He dropped into a chair opposite her. “Were you? Are you going somewhere?”

“The palace,” she replied, and he steeled himself for another account of Queen Armenal’s beneficence. “But ’twas not that I was hoping to converse with you about.” She lowered her voice. “It is my hope you will take this opportunity to shore up and fortify the foundations of your marriage. They were badly shaken by your actions at the royal tournament. It is my sincere wish that you will not subject your wife to such an indignity again.”

Konrad stiffened. “I am well aware that I made a misstep there,” he replied brusquely. “And do not require your counsel on the matter.”

“Is that so?” Trude responded with raised brows. “I am still your elder sister, Konrad. You will allow that, if nothing else.”

“You are my elder sister,” he agreed. “But in truth, you know even less of marital accord than I.”

She considered this a moment before inclining her head. “I will own you may have something there. We neither of us had much of an example held up before us.” They fell silent a moment as the specter of their long-dead parents rose and fell between them. “Perhaps,” she suggested. “You should take her north to Bartree Castle after your tournament?”

“It will take months before the place is habitable,” he pointed out.

“It might be an adventure,” she said brightly. “To one such as Aimee.”

“Even an adventurous woman would be daunted by camping out in a soot-blackened shell,” he pointed out damningly. “She is used to every comfort.”

“Perhaps so,” she agreed. “But she has a good deal of spirit, and besides …”