Page 118 of An Inconvenient Vow

Sabina was both shocked and alarmed. “To us?”

“But how can I convey to my ladies how to illustrate this elusive charm of yours when I have seen precious little evidence of it myself?”

Sabina swallowed down the lump in her throat. “That would indeed be difficult, Your Majesty,” she agreed.

“Of course, you will feature on the Kentigern’s panel,” the Queen murmured tapping her chin thoughtfully.

Sabina gave a little gasp. “I will?” she croaked.

“But yes.”

“I thought you were disappointed in Lady Kentigern,” Sabina heard herself point out before she could stop herself. “Yet you still intend to dedicate a panel to them?”

Queen Armenal nodded. “I do, for yesterday’s entertainment was too delicious, even if the little baroness does not aspire to be one of my ladies-in-waiting. Anyone who can elevate a dull tournament in such a fashion will always occupy a place of favor with me.”

In all, it was a most unsettling afternoon. Sabina returned to the De Crecy rooms in a dejected mood. It was not that she wanted the Queen to like her, or to imagine theirs was some epic love story, she told herself. It was only that it did hurt one’s feelings somewhat to be told to one’s face that you were a sad disappointment. It was unworthy of her to take comfort in the fact Lady Kentigern had similarly let down the Queen today in her expectations of amusement.

The slam of a door alerted her that someone had returned, and she whirled about from her spot by the window. Jeffree was stood in the doorway, looking grim.

“We attend the feast tonight for the closing of the tourney,” he announced, looking as though he wanted to say more, but then changed his mind and turned away to order water for washing instead.

“Closing feast? Does that mean that we return home on the morrow?” Sabina asked, hurrying after him as he made for their bedchamber. He did not answer at once, so she followed him inside to find him unlacing his cuffs.

“Why are you in such a tearing hurry to go back?” he asked with a frown. “Things are settled at Morecotte. You have made things habitable. What is it there that has so urgent a claim on you?”

She clammed up at that. “My—my sister is not herself. She has still not recovered sufficiently from the great shock she suffered on her wedding day. Isemay needs my support now more than ever.”

He snorted. “You said yourself that she is no shrinking maid in need of cossetting.”

“It is not that, but—” She broke off, staring down at her hands.

“I was thinking we could go straight from here to Beres Caple,” he suggested.

“What is Beres Caple? Another tournament?” She could not keep the dismay out of her voice.

“Yes, another tournament,” he responded testily. “Why do you look like that?”

“Jeffree!” She averted her face.

“What?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“Not to me.” She shook her head. “You hate the tournaments,” he said flatly.

Sabina clenched her fists at her side and steeled herself for the coming confrontation. Squeezing her eyes shut, she burst out a heartfelt, “Yes, I hate them. I feel horribly conspicuous and out of place and like everyone is staring at me and finding me wanting.”

When he said nothing, she opened one eye to find him stood staring toward the window. Sabina fully opened her eyes to look at him. “Jeffree?” His silence unnerved her.

His gaze flickered briefly to her before returning to the window again. He shook his head slightly.

“I am not good at being gracious,” she added desperately, thinking of the fine noblewomen in the gardens that day. “I have no winning ways to charm people or put them at their ease. I never know the right thing to say; I just turn stiff and awkward. I am fully aware that your wife should be some pearl of womanhood, but unfortunately, that is just not me! I have no discernible talent or charm.”

“The tournaments are what I do and where I display at my best,” he said grimly. “If you do not see me at my best then how am I to retain your love?”

Sabina stared at him, dropping her hands to her side. What did he just say?

The knock at the door both startled and frustrated her, but it was only Wilton with two jugs of hot water. He set them down and, after gazing at them nervously, backed out of the room.