He turned to his wife, the very beautiful, red-headed Lady Sandra, beside him and gestured at the brightly coloured doublet.
'My dear,' he said, 'you don't think I'm a bit… too much in this, do you?'
'Too much, darling?' she repeated, trying to hide a smile. He made a doubtful little gesture.
'You know… too colourful… overstated. Coming the peacock, as it were?'
'Do you feel overstated, my lord?' she asked.
'Well, no. But perhaps… '
'You are Baron of Redmont, after all,' she said, now managing a completely straight face. He looked down at himself, considered carefully, then, reassured, nodded his thanks to her.
'No. Of course not. You're right, my dear. As ever. My position deserves a little bit of pomp and show, I suppose. No… you're right. I'm perfectly fine. Just the right tone, in fact.'
This time, Lady Sandra had to turn away, finding something urgent to say to the person sitting on her apposite Arald, reassured now that he hadn't committed a fashion gaffe, went back to his musing over events so far.
After the official ceremony, the guests had proceeded from the audience hall to the dining hall and taken their seats. Tables had been carefully placed with regard to rank.
The wedding party was seated centrally on the dais, of course. Arald, Lady Sandra, Sir Rodney and the rest of the Redmont officials were to their left at another table. The King, as Patron-Sponsor of the event, occupied a third table, along with Princess Cassandra and his entourage.
When people had taken their places behind their chairs, those at the three tables on the dais entered and stood ready – wedding party first, then the royal party, then Arald's group. King Duncan motioned for the room to sit; there was a scraping of chairs throughout the huge hall.
Duncan remained standing. When the commotion of shifting chairs and shuffling feet finally died down, he spoke, his deep voice carrying easily to all corners. 'My lords, ladies, gentlemen… ' he began, then, seeing every doorway into the room crowded with faces belonging to castle staff and servants, he added with a grin, and people of Redmont Castle.' There was a ripple of amusement through the room. 'Today I have the honour of being Patron-Sponsor of this very happy event.'
Arald had leaned forward attentively and craned round to see the King at the other side of the dais. This position of Patron-Sponsor was new to him. He had been wondering for some weeks now what it entailed. Perhaps now he would find out.
'I must admit,' Duncan continued, 'I was a little puzzled to know what the duties of a Patron-Sponsor might be. So I consulted with my Chamberlain, Lord Anthony – a man for whom the mysteries of protocol are an open book.'
He indicated his Chamberlain, who inclined his head gravely in response.
'Apparently, a Patron-Sponsor's duties are relatively clear cut.' He reached into the cuff of his sleeve and produced a small sheet of parchment on which he had written notes. 'As Patron-Sponsor, I am charged with,' he paused and consulted the notes, 'adding a sense of royal cachet to proceedings today.'
He waited while a ripple of conversation ran round the room. Nobody was quite sure what adding a sense of royal cachet really meant. But everyone agreed that it sounded impressive indeed. Lady Pauline's mouth twitched in a smile and she looked down at the table. Halt found something of vast interest in the ceiling beams high above. Duncan continued.
'My second duty is… ' again he consulted his notes to make sure he had the wording correct, 'to provide an extremely expensive present to the bride and groom… '
Lady Pauline's head jerked up at that. She leant forward and turned to make eye contact with Lord Anthony. The Chamberlain met her gaze, his face completely devoid of expression. Then, very slowly, one eyelid slid down in a wink. He liked Pauline and Halt a great deal and he'd added that duty without consulting them. After certain events in the past, he thought he owed at least that much to Halt.
'And finally,' Duncan was saying, 'it is my duty to declare this celebration officially open. Which I now do, with great delight. Chubb! Bring on the feast!'
And, as the assembled throng cheered, he sat down and the feasting began.
'I liked your speech,' Alyss said to Will, as the puddings were cleared away. He shrugged.
'I hope it was all right,' he said. As best man, he had proposed the toast to Halt and Lady Pauline. It was a mark of his growing maturity, thought Alyss, that he had the confidence to speak from the heart of his deep affection for his teacher and friend. As a member of the Diplomatic Service, she was a trained speaker herself and she had admired the way he hadn't shied away from voicing his true feelings, yet avoided cheap sentimentality. She'd glanced once at Halt during the speech and saw the grim-faced Ranger furtively wiping his eye with a napkin.
'It was a lot better than all right,' she assured him.
Then, as she saw him starting to grin, she jogged him with her elbow. 'What?'
'I was just thinking, I can't wait to see Halt in the bridal dance with Pauline. He's not known for his fancy stepping. He should be quite a sight to behold. A total fumble foot!'
'Is that right?' she said dryly. 'And how do you think you'll manage it?'
'Me?' he said in some surprise. 'I won't be dancing! It's the bridal dance. The bride and groom dance alone!'
'For one circuit of the room,' she told him. 'After which they are joined by the best man and first bridesmaid, then the groomsman and second bridesmaid.'
Will reacted as if he had been stung. He leant forward to speak across Jenny, on his left, to Gilan.
'Gil! Did you know we have to dance?' he asked. Gilan nodded enthusiastically.
'Oh yes indeed. Jenny and I have been practising for the past three days, haven't we, Jeri?'
Jenny looked up at him adoringly and nodded. Jenny was in love. Gilan was tall, dashing, good looking, charming and very amusing. Plus he was cloaked in the mystery and romance that came with being a Ranger. Jenny had only ever known one Ranger and that had been grim-faced, grey-bearded Halt.
Well, there was Will, of course. But he was an old friend and held no sense of mystery for her. But Gilan! He was beautiful, she thought.
And he was hers for the rest of the reception, she promised herself.
Will felt a sense of panic as he heard the orchestra playing the opening bars of Together forever, the traditional bridal dance. Halt and Pauline rose from their seats and people stood and applauded, craning to watch as he led her down the stairs from the dais to the main floor, where a space had been cleared for dancing.
'Well, I'm not dancing,' Will said through gritted teeth. 'I don't know how.'
'Oh yes you are,' Alyss told him. 'Let's hope you're a fast learner.'
He glanced at her and saw no prospect of escape. 'Well, at least I won't be the only one,' he said. 'Halt will be terrible too.'
But of course, what he and nobody else in the assembly knew was that for the past ten days, Halt had been having dance lessons from Lady Sandra. He had always been well balanced, co-ordinated and light on his feet, and it had 'taken just a few hours for the Baron's wife, an expert herself, to turn him into a consummate dancer. Now he and Pauline glided around the room as if they were born to dance together. There was a gasp of surprise from the crowd, then an enthusiastic roar of applause.
Will felt Alyss's surprisingly firm grip on his forearm as she stood and brought him to his feet beside her. Let's go, Fumblefoot,' she said.
There was no escape, Will knew. He preceded her down the stairs, giving her his arm as she descended. Then he turned to her uncertainly.