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Farleigh whistled. “That would explain it,” he murmured. “Bethencourt is rolling in coin. Does he not own half of Ganfordshire?”

Symes grunted. “Aye, but here’s the rub of it.” He glanced around before continuing. “The uncle, a confirmed bachelor, has recently married some young bride and put Sir Jeffree’s dukedom in jeopardy. That’s one of the reasons de Crecy is in so foul a mood. If this new wife of his uncle’s should catch for a child, he will be disinherited from a title he has always considered as good as his.”

Kentigern looked toward Aimee whose eyes were wide with lively interest.

“Well, that’s one in the eye for Sir Jeffree,” Lowell chortled. “No wonder he’s been in such a passion of late.”

“He is lately married himself of course,” Aimee pointed out. “That might also have affected his equanimity.”

Konrad surprised himself with yet another pang of sympathy for de Crecy.

“What is she like, if you don’t mind me asking, Lady Kentigern?” Lowell asked. All eyes swerved back to Aimee. “De Crecy’s bride, I mean.”

“She is … unusual,” Aimee said after a moment’s pause. “Not what you would expect Sir Jeffree to choose in a wife. And yet …” She tipped her head to one side. “I think she enjoys keeping him on his toes.”

Konrad narrowed his gaze. Where the hells had she gotten that impression? The others made various noises of interest in this point of view. “Aye, well,” he said. “One of us had best be strapping on his armor.” He looked pointedly at Lowell who gave a start.

“Good point,” Lowell said, peering over his shoulder. “Have they assembled? I had better be on my way. Will you stay and watch, my lord?” he asked hopefully.

Konrad looked to Aimee before answering. She nodded encouragingly. “Aye, right willingly,” he rumbled, and Lowell beamed before hurrying off.

“Shall we find a good place to sit?” Farleigh suggested, glancing toward the benches.

“Oh yes,” said Aimee hurriedly and pressed on Konrad’s arm.

He picked up on her unspoken message that she did not wish to return to the Howard’s spot. “How about over to the left?” he suggested obligingly and was rewarded with a relieved smile.

“An excellent notion,” she agreed. “That looks perfect.” Some of the crowds had dispersed after the first battle had ended, and they soon found an empty bench.

“I will go in search of some refreshment,” Symes said, heading off toward one of the more functional looking tents.

Konrad allowed his eye to wander over the crowd as Farleigh told Aimee enthusiastically of the tournaments he had attended thus far this year. He saw Una de Bussell had returned to the Howards and was looking about her with a frown on her face. He lowered his head to speak in his wife’s ear. “I think the princess is looking for you,” he said in a low voice.

Aimee glanced across. “Do you think so?” she sounded gratified. “In truth, I think she will find Lady Howard a good deal easier without me there while I am persona non grata.”

“Why would Lady Howard think that?” Farleigh asked, his ears pricking up. Aimee explained about the aftereffects of her song, and he seemed to derive a good deal of amusement from the tale. When Symes returned with a pitcher of ale and four cups, Farleigh insisted on her repeating the story to his friend.

“It is hardly your fault that Darby’s conscience smote him,” Symes agreed. “I heard he was betrothed to some rich woman in Aldenbrook. A glover’s widow. Likely, Lady Howard was not looking forward to imparting the news the contract was broken.”

“Was he really betrothed to another?” Aimee looked stricken. “Aileen did not tell us that part of the tale.”

“Apparently so,” Symes told her. “But these things happen.”

“I suppose they do,” Aimee murmured guiltily. “But even so, I should not like to think of any lady planning for a wedding that will ne’er take place.”

“I think Mistress Aileen might have the prior claim,” Konrad heard himself point out dryly. “As she has twice born his seed.” He thought Farleigh winced slightly at his blunt manner of speech, but Aimee did not seem to mind it.

“That is true,” she agreed, looking relieved.

“Likely, Darby only pledged himself to the widow for her fat purse,” Farleigh added in what the young fool probably thought a consoling manner.

Aimee’s face filled with color. “Yes, you are probably right,” she agreed in a subdued voice.

Inwardly, Konrad cursed the tactless young idiot.

“Look, they are taking now to the field,” Symes announced. “There’s Fulke,” he said nodding to Lowell.

“And is that not Sir Armand de Bussell?” Aimee asked, pointing to another knight who stood head and shoulders above the others.