“My lord,” Elizabeth said steadily. “How good of you to come to see me.”
Hugh crossed the room until he was standing in front of her chair. He bowed his head. “My lady. I am so very sorry for your loss.”
The expression on his face was reserved, and his gray eyes held none of the astonished delight that Elizabeth was accustomed to seeing in the eyes of men when they first beheld her.
She felt a flash of annoyance. She was every bit as beautiful as he, and she expected tribute.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said graciously. “It has been a difficult time.”
He nodded, and looked politely toward Lady Sybil. Elizabeth introduced her companion.
Hugh greeted the lady-in-waiting courteously, and Sybil invited him to sit with them.
Moving warily, rather as if he found himself trapped in a cage with two wild animals, Hugh took the armed, backless bench that Sybil had offered.
The three of them gazed at one another. The winter sun pouring in the open window fell on Elizabeth’s hair, turning its red-gold beauty into a glorious flame. She tossed her head a little, to call attention to it.
Hugh said to her, “My lady, do you think it is wise for you to remain in Lincoln? Would it not be better for you to return home, where you will be safe?” He glanced around the room, which lacked tapestries for the walls and was sparsely furnished. “Not to mention more comfortable,” he added.
“A very sensible comment, my lord,” Lady Sybil said heartily, “and one that has been made by others besides yourself.”
Elizabeth’s long green eyes flashed. “I am not leaving Lincoln until I am certain that my father’s murderer has been convicted and punished,” she stated firmly.
Hugh did not look as if he admired her filial loyalty. He just kept regarding her with that reserved look on his face, and asked, “Why?”
Her back stiffened. “It seems perfectly natural to me, my lord, that I should be interested in seeing my father’s murderer brought to justice.”
Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.
“Of course you desire to see justice done,” Hugh said agreeably. “What I actually meant was, what do you think you can achieve by remaining in Lincoln?”
Elizabeth glared at the man who had been her father’s choice for her husband. He was looking at her with a detachment Elizabeth found odd and bewildering.
And this man had almost been betrothed to her!
She lifted her chin and said, “I wish to be there watching when Bernard Radvers hangs.”
No emotion showed in those cool gray eyes. Not shock. Not respect. Not admiration. Not distaste.
“I see,” he said.
The short, uncomfortable silence that followed this remark was broken by Lady Sybil.
“You must realize, my lord, that the death of Lord Gilbert will necessarily mean a halt to any wedding plans between you and the Lady Elizabeth.”
For the first time, Elizabeth detected the flicker of an emotion in Hugh de Leon’s eyes. The emotion was relief.
Suddenly Elizabeth was furious. While it was true that she had never wished to marry Hugh de Leon, it was quite another thing for him not to wish to marry her. Ever since she was a child, Elizabeth had had men worshiping at her feet. Hugh’s obvious indifference piqued her vanity.
Perhaps she wouldn’t have minded so much if he hadn’t been so good-looking himself.
He was saying to Lady Sybil, “I fear you are right, my lady. The king will have the wardship of the Lady Elizabeth, and I doubt that he will bestow her upon me.”
He didn’t even have the decency to sound regretful.
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. You won’t have a chance to marry me, Lord Hugh, but let us see if I can’t make you sorry about that, she thought. She drew a long breath to compose herself, and then she smiled.
Elizabeth de Beauté’s smile was dazzling, but the reserve in Hugh de Leon’s expression never changed.
“I will be remaining in Lincoln for the present, my lady,” he said to her. “We may not be betrothed, but I will be glad to serve you in any way that I can.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Elizabeth replied demurely. She fluttered her long eyelashes. “We may not be destined to be husband and wife, but I hope that we may be friends.”
He looked at her, and Elizabeth had the feeling that it was the first time he really saw her.
At last he returned her smile. “I hope so, too, my lady.”
Elizabeth did not like the way that smile made her feel.
“I understand that you are staying with Richard Canville and his father,” she said.
The reserved look descended once more. “Aye.”
“Sir Richard has been very kind to us,” Lady Sybil said.
Elizabeth looked at her hands, which held the tapestry in her lap, and said nothing.
“Richard is a wonderful man,” Hugh said with a tinge of irony. He stood up. “I do not wish to trespass on your time any further, Lady Elizabeth, Lady Sybil.” He bowed slightly. “Please accept my condolences once more and be assured that I, too, am anxious to see the true culprit brought to justice.”
“Thank you for coming to visit me, my lord,” Elizabeth said gently.
He nodded, turned, and was gone.
8
Dinner at the sheriff’s house that night was braised beef with parsley, onions, and raisins. The food in the house on the Strait had definitely been plain since Gervase’s cook had gone to work for Lady Elizabeth.
Alan, who had already eaten, placed the platter of beef on the table in front of Gervase and stepped to the end of the table, where he could watch all three men and see to their needs.
The Canvilles politely waited for their guest to fill his trencher first. Hugh took a small amount of beef and an even smaller serving of vegetables.
Gervase frowned. “Is that all you are going to eat? Why, that’s not enough food to keep a hound in flesh!”
“I am not very hungry, sir. This will be ample, I assure you,” Hugh replied.
Alan regarded him from under lowered lashes. Lord Hugh was paler than usual, he thought, and his eyes looked shadowed.
“Don’t pester Hugh, Father,” Richard said amiably. “He’s old enough to know how much he wants to eat.”
“Thank you, Richard,” Hugh said.
Alan felt himself tensing. Hugh’s words had been perfectly pleasant, but something about his voice when he spoke to Richard set the squire’s teeth on edge.
Richard looked troubled.
What is the matter with Lord Hugh? Alan thought.
He remembered what Richard had told him about how Hugh had always felt himself to be in competition with Richard when they were boys.
But they aren’t boys any longer, and for certain Lord Hugh no longer has to fear that he will be outshone, Alan thought, remembering the arrow-shooting contest of the morning.
Meanwhile, the conversation at the table had passed to other matters.
“What was the urgent problem that took you away from us this morning?” Richard asked his father.
Gervase sighed wearily. “It was Edgar Harding. Again. The man is a constant bother.”
Richard soaked some gravy up with his white roll. “What did he want this time?”
Gervase leaned back in his chair and looked disgruntled. “He wanted to know why he wasn’t offered one of the market stalls in the Bail.”
Richard finished his well-soaked bread. “Did he bid on a stall?”
“Nay,” Gervase said. “And that is his complaint. He claims he was not made aware that they were for rent.”
“Are you speaking of Edgar Harding of Deerhurst?” Hugh asked.
Alan noticed that he had not touched any of his food.
“Is there any other?” Gervase replied ruefully. “Tell me, Hugh, did he give Ralf as much trouble as he gives me?”
“He was always rather touchy,” Hugh said. His fingers were busily shredding a roll into tiny pieces.