Arissa put her hands on his arm. “You think too little of yourself, Gavan. I am sure you are good for other things, although I cannot think of any at the moment.” Slipping her fingers into the crook of his elbow, she laughed happily at his insulted expression, deeply relieved that he had come to explain the turn of events. Suddenly, she felt very much like attending her party. “Shall we go downstairs? Bart promised me a special performance.”
Gavan cocked an eyebrow. “God’s Teeth, more paganistic teachings? Or, mayhap, he plans to reenact the entire battle of Marathon; portraying five thousand soldiers all by himself.”
She wagged her finger at him as they moved for the door. “My brother is a great actor, Gavan. I forbid you to criticize his talent.”
Gavan opened the door for her. “Your brother is a loon.”
“’Tis the future earl you speak of.”
“The future earl is a loon.”
She laughed as he escorted her into the corridor. Gavan passed a glance at her beautiful face, knowing exactly whyRichmond was in love with her. He loved his own wife for the very same reasons; beauty, life, spirit, purity of the soul. And knowing how he felt about his own wife, he also knew without a doubt that he would shrivel and die without her by his side.
As they took the stairs into the gallery, he could only imagine the torment Richmond was feeling at the direction his destiny had taken. With all of the political turmoil threatening the crown, a bevy of personal problems was an unwelcome factor.
If Arissa only knew the whole of it. He listened to her voice as she spoke, listening but not truly hearing her. He couldn’t help but wonder if the impending future would somehow alter the spirit within her, quell the life. As she was destined for Whitby Abbey and Richmond found himself facing an unwanted betrothal and a potential civil war, it would seem that a permanent wedge was to be driven between them.
Desperately in love but prevented from being together. As the bright light from the gallery hit Gavan in the face, he couldn’t ever remember a darker situation.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Riss, where haveyou been?” Bartholomew snatched her away from Gavan as soon as she entered the hall. “I have been waiting for you!”
Arissa kept an eye out for Richmond as Bartholomew swept her deep into the room. “I am sorry, I was not feeling well.”
He led her towards the head table where William and Maude were seated. Mossy was absent, as was usual; just as Richmond shied from a crowd, Mossy avoided social gatherings at all costs and Arissa was not surprised to discover him to be truant. Regine, however, was lingering by the edge of the table, in conversation with Emma. When she caught sight of her sister, her blue eyes widened.
“No matter,” Bartholomew said, rushing his sister towards the long table. “Take your seat and I shall commence.”
William and Maude noticed their daughter’s approach, rising to their feet as Bartholomew practically tossed the birthday girl onto the dais. Arissa stumbled with her brother’s rough treatment, passing him an intolerant glance as she moved for her customary chair. On her father’s left hand, Richmond usually sat to her left. His seat was vacant.
Bartholomew disappeared as she took her chair. William greeted her fondly, demanding food and wine for the guest of honor. As a trencher was brought forward, the earl commanded the small minstrel orchestra situated in the corner of the hall to begin their program in tribute to his daughter’s arrival.
Her appetite was customarily weak as she scanned the room for Richmond, listening to her father’s voice as he conversedwith Baron Buscot. Several retainers were hovering about the head table, men she did not recognize and had no interest in meeting. At the moment, her primary concern was locating Richmond.
She was greatly distracted from her search, however, as guests began to approach, relaying congratulations and delivering small tokens of their esteem. Lady Maude moved from her husband’s right hand, taking a position beside her daughter as friends and allies paid their respects. Arissa’s patience was brittle, but she tried her best to be cordial in the midst of a plethora of compliments.
The crowd about the dais was growing larger and Gavan and Carlton took position in front of the table, controlling the throng and making sure there was not an eager stampede. Maude delivered most of the thanks, an extremely gracious woman while her daughter offered feeble words of gratitude. The fact that Richmond was missing upset her greatly, reflective in her somber mood.
The crowd began to die down when a troop of dancers assumed their places near the orchestra. From Macedonia, their costumes were a mixture of bright colors, mostly greens, reds and whites, and embroidered with elaborate patterns. Arissa actually found her interest captured as they began their intricate dance, women with women and men with men.
Her father leaned toward her as the performers cavorted about in the center of the room. “Do you like them? The Earl of Kent commissioned the group to perform at the celebration we attended last month in honor of his birthday. I thought you might appreciate their skills.”
She nodded, kissing her father on the cheek dutifully. “They are wonderful, Father,” her gazed moved from the dancers to the gallery surrounding her. “Where’s Richmond?”
William glanced about disinterestedly. “I do not know. I saw him earlier. But I see that Gavan found you.”
She nodded, returning her attention to the dancers as a serving wench topped her wine. “I hope Emma does not throw herself at him like she did the last time he was here.”
William snorted, drinking deeply of his chalice. “Gavan has more women throwing themselves at him than he can handle. I have never seen such a reluctant object of adoration.”
The music picked up pace and the performers commenced with a lively routine. The group of guests clapped in rhythm as a line of male dancers began to dance in a well-orchestrated circle, dropping to their knees and bounding to their feet as the music demanded. Arissa continued to observe with growing interest when a body suddenly moved beside her.
“I think they’re boring,” Regine sniffed, perching herself on the seat Richmond usually occupied. “I want to dance.”
Arissa peered closely at her younger sister, noting that the girl was barely resting her bottom on the chair. “We will be dancing all night. And I do not think the performers are boring in the least.”
Regine did not reply, lifting her shoulders in a spoiled gesture. A serving wench passed by with a full trencher and Regine imperiously demanded that it be placed in front of her. The plate was barely settled before the plump young girl was digging into the food with both hands.
