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Lady Winthrop’s eyes twinkled when I posed the question to her.
“Perhaps for the same reasons you are here now. Because there’s someone you trust — intimately — to help enact a bold, last-minute plan.”
I stared, but she just chuckled.
“Oh, I saw enough of you and that friar to catch on.”
My jaw fell open. Tuck and I had spent no more than three minutes in the chapel that morning — behind a mostly closed door.
Lady Winthrop laughed. “I knew about thirty seconds after you two arrived last night, standing studiously apart. Then there was that glow you came to breakfast with…”
My cheeks heated, and I nearly protested. Glow? What glow?
She laughed harder. “I’ve never seen a priest look quite so satisfied, I can assure you.”
My unicorn side pranced away with that thought, as inappropriate as it was. Last night meant as much to him as it did to us. Tuck likes us! He loves us!
Well, yes. But he was also a priest.
Didn’t stop you from shagging him on every conceivable surface last night, my unicorn pointed out.
No, it hadn’t. But that was destined to be our one and only night, and we both knew it. Our love was a condemned prisoner, permitted one last indulgence before it all came to an ugly end.
“Now, now. Don’t look so glum,” Lady Winthrop scolded. “You’ll think of something.”
I stared at her. How could she have such faith?
She took my hands in hers. “Dear child, you are your mother’s daughter, and your father taught you well.”
It wasn’t often that I thought of my mother, who died when I was young — too young. Now that I did, tears sprang to my eyes and my heart swelled. Enough to make me realize another kind of unicorn bond existed there. She might be gone, but she would always be with me.
My throat grew thick. “I’m like her?”
My father had assured me of that a thousand times. But to hear it from someone else…
“You have the same drive, the same spunk. The same stubbornness,” Lady Winthrop said.
I frowned. “I’m not stubborn.”
She laughed. “You sound like her too.” She squeezed my hands. “She was my dearest friend, and I knew her better than anyone. Maybe even better than your father, because we went back that far. So, yes. You’re just like her. Right down to your choice in men.”
My eyes went wide, though Lady Winthrop flapped her hand like it was obvious.
“Strong. Loyal. Loving. Not quite as sharp as you, but sharp enough to listen to you, and listen well.”
“But…but…”
“But what, child?”
Um, where would I begin?
“He’s a monk,” I finally said.
She shrugged. “The Lord moves in mysterious ways.” Then she leaned back and took a few deep breaths. “Enough of that. It’s time to compose ourselves.”
Sensing she might pull out her needlepoint, I nearly screamed. But she just sat back, closed her eyes, and murmured, “A good general uses the calm before the storm to think ahead. She takes stock of her forces. She considers every angle of attack — and retreat. She plans for every likely scenario, then for every unlikely, even impossible one.”
I stared. “She?”
