Page 22 of Betrothal

Maurya nodded slowly. “If there existed a compelling enough reason, yes, of course he could. But a quarrel with Sir Geoffrey would hardly qualify as such.” She captured Alyse’s gaze and her face seemed to harden. “Especially since King Edward favors the Longfords.”

“He does?” Alyse cocked her head. She had no idea Geoffrey’s family had the ear of the king.

“Why do you think Sir Geoffrey was given such a prestigious position in Princess Joanna’s retinue?”

She had not thought of that. Her betrothed would be second in command during the journey to Spain. Only Sir Robert de Bouchier held a higher position.

“And do you not know to whom Lady Mary is now betrothed?”

Alyse shook her head, a coldness stealing through her.

“Sir Roland of Longford. Sir Geoffrey’s elder brother.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Thank the Lord she had eaten nothing yet. There seemed little left to hope for. Only the king could put the contract aside, and she certainly had no influence over him; neither did—

Alyse’s breathing sped up, as though she could not drag air into her lungs quickly enough. Lord Braeton had spoken ill of her. Had tried to paint her as an unworthy wife. If Geoffrey came to believe this, might he and his father not petition the king to put the betrothal aside?

Would Lord Braeton be that cunning to betray his best friend? Such an action did not speak well for his character, even if he did it for love of her. She frowned, confused by the tangle of her emotions.

Because she had to admit, she had discovered many excellent qualities in Sir Geoffrey in the short time of their acquaintance. His kindness and compassion, his willingness to appease her demands to know him better. A strong and handsome man as well, though very different from his friend.

Yes, she knew more of him and liked what she had found. His lapse this afternoon might indeed be simply part of his friend’s plan to gain her hand. A flattering thought, to have two such men vying for her.

But such sweet dreams did little to stem the humiliation she had suffered in the princess’s chamber. She had had to endure Anne’s snide remarks and the princess’s pitying looks after she told them she was no longer choosing their knight and lady for the procession. Her face grew hot at the memory, and she stifled her charitable thoughts toward Geoffrey. Had he truly trusted her, nothing his friend had said would have swayed him from his belief in her.

She sighed and deliberately turned to her most immediate problem. Her instincts told her Geoffrey would try to approach her this evening, to which end she had enlisted Maurya’s help. A glance at his accustomed spot across the Great Hall reaffirmed that neither him nor Lord Braeton had appeared. Still, that meant nothing. They could enter at any time during the meal.

Geoffrey was the last person on earth she wanted to see this night, or any other, but her situation was impossible. They were both courtiers in the service of the royal household. And, of course, they were betrothed. She might as well hope to avoid the sun as Geoffrey Longford.

Her impending marriage loomed ever larger in her mind. The event that had held so much hopeful promise this morning once again dragged her into despair. She forced herself to acknowledge the reality of the situation. She was marrying a man with little regard for her feelings, one who gave and withdrew his favor as carelessly as he would order about his hounds.

If Lord Braeton cannot gain my freedom from this betrothal, Sir Geoffrey will learn I am not as submissive as his favorite bitch. If I must be his wife, he will accord me the honor and trust of that position or find me nipping at his heels.

She straightened her shoulders and shook her head, gazing around once more for sight of Geoffrey.

Seated next to Maurya and her husband, with Patrick on her left and beyond him Anne, Alyse deemed herself well-fortified against any foray led by her betrothed. She silently thanked Maurya for inviting her brother to the table. Patrick’s quick wit had always been able to lift her spirits. She exchanged pleasantries with him, though only gave half an ear to his banter as she searched the Hall in vain for her betrothed. Unsure if his absence annoyed or comforted her, she found that when the servant brought the next course, she ate more than she had expected. Perhaps her ire had indeed dimmed a smidgeon.

Patrick, meanwhile, continued to beguile her with tales of the king’s afternoon ride. “’Twas a pleasant ride out to the lists, for the king wanted to look over the lay of the land for the coming tournament. ’Twill be most exciting for you, I am sure, with Geoffrey competing.”

Alyse wrinkled her nose. “Such excitement I would cheerfully forego, Patrick.”

“Ah, lady, but you have never been to a tournament here, have you?”

“I attended one at Merwyck. A small affair of but two days. Even that was enough for me.” A memory she would happily forget.

Patrick leaned his head to the side, regarding her quizzically. “You did not fancy the tournament, Lady Alyse?”

“Nay, Patrick. ’Twas painful to watch.” She paused, swallowing her bitterness. “Knights I knew were injured. I lost much that day.” She closed her eyes, willing the horrible images away.

“You are too tenderhearted, Alyse. I hope you will enjoy this tournament. It should prove most entertaining. Many are drawn here for the prizes, and for the chance to receive riches from hands such as yours, my lady.” Patrick took her hand and placed a chaste kiss on the top of it. Alyse sighed and smiled at him. He had a way about him that always put her at ease. Would that that were the case with others she could name.

Patrick continued, with a studied lack of concern that did not quite fool Alyse. “I did hear today, as we were walking the lists, that one of the jousting matches is to be a challenge match. Sir Geoffrey challenged Lord Braeton to a joust.”

Alyse’s eyes widened. “Was there reason for the challenge? Or is it just a match between friends to test their skills?”

“I know not, lady.” Patrick’s voice dropped. “But there seems to have been a rift between them. They barely spoke and black looks passed between them, where usually they are the best of companions. If some offense was taken, I know not.”

Alyse’s appetite fled, and she pushed her trencher away. Had Geoffrey blamed his friend for their quarrel and challenged Lord Braeton to a joust for her honor? She shuddered at the thought. She hoped this was not his way of making amends to her, though she feared it likely.