Joanna looked uncertain. "She was much saddened and prone to melancholy at the time. Nevertheless, I heard her say very distinctly that training a man to be a knight was a great piece of idiocy."
Clare saw the gleam in Gareth's eye. She flushed.
"At the time, my wife was not aware of the many healthful advantages of training and exercise for young men," Gareth said. "I have explained those benefits to her, however, and she is eager for William and Dalian to receive them."
"What benefits?" Joanna gave him a beseeching look. "William could be seriously injured."
"He could be hurt climbing an apple tree or falling down a staircase, but 'tis not likely," Gareth said with surprising gentleness. "Your son is safer under Sir Ulrich's eye than he is in his own bed."
"William has a most delicate constitution," Joanna insisted. "Such training and exercise will exhaust him."
"A regimen of properly supervised exercise will strengthen his constitution and align his humors," Gareth said. "I have seen many examples of frail young boys who have greatly improved their health through regular, vigorous activity."
"I am not at all certain of this." Joanna looked at Clare, seeking support.
Clare managed what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "We must trust that my husband and Sir Ulrich know what they are about, Joanna. They have both had a great deal of experience in such matters."
"Their experience is in hunting outlaws, not in educating young boys,"
Joanna said desperately.
"Nay," Gareth said. "I have been training the men who serve under my command for years. So has Ulrich. We know what we are doing."
Joanna looked from Gareth to Clare and back. Some of her visible agitation subsided. She did not appear completely satisfied, but it was clear she realized she was facing a united lord and lady. In an odd way, it seemed to give her some further reassurance.
"Well, if you are certain William will not be hurt, I suppose it will be all right to try an exercise program."
"Why don't you discuss the particulars of William's training at supper with Sir Ulrich?" Clare suggested to Joanna. "I believe that he will answer all of your questions."
Joanna brightened. "Aye, I will do that. Sir Ulrich is a very kind and courteous knight. And very knowledgeable."
"He will be an excellent example for young William and for Dalian."
Gareth's eyes gleamed. "He is not one of your typical thick-skulled, ill-mannered, foul-tempered knights."
Clare rolled her eyes heavenward and called on Saint Hermione for strength.
"Aye, mayhap Sir Ulrich will, indeed, be a good influence on William."
Joanna inclined her head politely to Gareth. "Pray, excuse me, my lord.
I believe I shall go and observe the training."
"Do it from a distance," Gareth advised. "Otherwise you will divert your son's attention and he will lose much of the benefit."
"Aye."
Clare watched Joanna walk toward the hall steps to join a handful of other people who had gathered to observe the training practice.
"Well done, madam," Gareth muttered. "I know that was not easy for you.
But in truth 'tis time she stopped coddling the lad. She cannot protect him forever."
Clare narrowed her eyes against the bright sunlight and turned to face Gareth. "You have had your way in this, my lord. I trust you are satisfied. Next time, you will consult me before you make any decisions which affect those in my charge, is that quite clear?"
"You and I must share the responsibilities for the decisions that affect the people of this manor now, Clare."
"All the more reason for you to discuss things with me first before you make sweeping decisions."
Gareth took her arm again and started toward the drying shed. "I think it would be best if we finished this conversation in private. I have been the subject of enough speculation and gossip today."
Clare's gaze went to the linen bandage on his arm. Guilt shot through her. "I am aware of that, my lord, and I cannot tell you how much I regret it."
"Try."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said, try to tell me how much regret my act of personal sacrifice has caused you." Gareth urged her through the door into the fragrant, shadowed interior of the shed.
"Are you teasing me, my lord?" she demanded suspiciously.
"Nay, madam." Gareth stopped just inside the shed and surveyed the long rows of flowers that hung from the drying racks. "So this is where you produce the wealth of Desire."
Clare frowned. "This is one of my workrooms, yes."
"I would see the rest of your facilities." Gareth started slowly down an aisle created by several long benches. He stopped in front of a pot filled with elderflowers, rose petals, and oak moss.
He scooped out a large handful and held the mixture to his nose. "Sweet.
Rich. A woman's scent, no doubt. One of your more profitable recipes?"
"Aye. It will sell well at the spring fair." Clare planted her hands on her hips and tapped one toe as Gareth moved on to another bowl.
"I like this one," he said as he held another handful of dried ingredients to his nose. "Clean and fresh. It smells of the sea."
Clare crossed her arms under her breasts. "Tis a mixture of spices and mint that is much favored by the wealthy men of London."
Gareth nodded and dropped the mix back into the bowl. He wandered down the row of tables to where several sprays of dried flowers were set out.
"And these?"
"Violets, roses, and orris root. I blend them with beeswax to create a scented balm. Twice a year I ship quantities of it to the South. Tis quite popular."
Gareth glanced toward the door at the far end of the shed. "What is in the adjoining workroom?"
"That is the place where I create my scented oils. It is where I work with fresh flowers and herbs instead of the dried ones. My lord, I believe you are attempting to distract me."
"Do you find my interest in your work unusual?" Gareth strode toward the connecting door.
"Under the circumstances, I do, sir."
Gareth opened the door and went through into the next workroom. "You cannot blame me for being curious. Now that I have given up the business of hunting cutthroats, my fortunes are in your hands, madam." He halted just inside the room. "It smells like all the flowers on the earth are collected in here."
Clare scowled and hurried after him. "I told you, that workroom is full of fresh petals and other ingredients."
Gareth walked over to a huge covered urn and lifted the lid. He took a deep whiff of the contents.
"Hell's teeth. 'Tis enough to make a man light-headed."
"Oil of roses," Clare explained.
"And this?" Gareth lifted another lid.
"Tis an oil mixture composed of fresh lavender, cloves, and a great many other ingredients. My lord, forgive me if I doubt the extent of your interest in my creations. We both know that you are attempting to avoid a discussion."
"An argument." Gareth took a deep breath of the lavender and clove oil.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I am attempting to avoid an argument." He put the lid back on the urn and surveyed three large pots that stood on a table. "What's in these vessels?"
"Honey, beeswax, and vinegar." Clare hung on to her fraying temper with sheer willpower. "I mix various flowers and herbs into them to create different lotions and creams. My lord, I do not wish to argue with you, but?"
"Excellent." Gareth removed the lid from the honey jar. "I am not fond of arguments." He touched a large, heavy press made of wood and iron.
"What is this mechanical device?"
"I use it to extract oil from cinnamon and roses. It is of Arab design."
"Where did you get it?"
"It was my father's. He discovered it on his last journey to Spain. It was packed in one of the chests full of books and other items that he sent to me shortly before he died."