“No,” he said grimly. “More the fool am I.”
From beside him, Jacquetta sipped her wine, her gaze never leaving them.
The feast draggedon for hours, course after course of Glenhaven’s finest offerings. Roasted peacock presented with its feathers reattached. Jellied eels. Venison in a sauce of wine and berries. Marchpane shaped like the royal coat of arms. Through it all, Baldwin watched Beth navigate the treacherous waters of court etiquette with all the grace of a bull in a pottery shop.
She used the wrong utensils. She spoke directly to serving men instead of summoning them with a gesture as was proper. She asked questions about politics that made courtiers exchange nervous glances. And worst of all, she kept catching his eye across the room with looks of helpless amusement that made something warm unfurl in his chest.
When the tables were finally cleared and the dancing began, Baldwin found himself cornered by Jacquetta near the great hearth.
“Mistress Anderson is the most unusual woman I have encountered in many years,” she said without preamble. “Her knowledge is... not of this world, I think.”
Baldwin maintained his composure with effort. “She has been educated unusually, it is true.”
“Do not play me for a fool, Lord Baldwin.” Jacquetta’s voice hardened. “I have studied the stars longer than you have drawn breath. I know when something disrupts their patterns.” She leaned closer. “Or someone.”
Before Baldwin could respond, a commotion erupted from the center of the hall. Beth stood frozen, wine spilled down the front of her gown, facing a red-faced nobleman.
“Clumsy wench!” the man snarled, his own cup empty. “Do you know how much this brocade cost?”
Baldwin moved without thinking, cutting through the crowd with long strides. He reached Beth’s side just as she opened her mouth to deliver what would undoubtedly be a thoroughly modern retort.
“Lord Pembroke,” Baldwin said, his voice carrying the edge of steel that had made men tremble on battlefields. “I must apologize for the accident. Of course, Glenhaven will provide compensation for any damage to your garments.”
The nobleman, flushed with wine and self-importance, drew himself up. “This foreign girl lacks all proper training. What kind of household are you running, Devereux?”
Baldwin stepped closer, using his height to full advantage. “One where guests remember their manners,” he said softly, “lest they find themselves sleeping in the stables rather than our comfortable chambers.”
A tense silence fell. Then Lord Pembroke huffed and turned away, muttering under his breath.
Baldwin turned to Beth, whose eyes had widened at his intervention. “Are you hurt?”
“Only my pride,” she murmured, looking down at the wine stain spreading across the blue fabric. “And my beautiful dress. I’m sorry.”
Her genuine contrition softened something in Baldwin’s chest. “It matters not. Come, you should change before?—”
“Before what?” Jacquetta appeared beside them, her dark eyes gleaming with interest. “A little wine is nothing to fret over. In fact, I would speak with mistress Anderson privately, Lord Baldwin.”
It was not a request. Baldwin hesitated, torn between protocol and protection.
Beth touched his arm lightly. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
Her fingers were warm through the fabric of his sleeve, the casual touch sending an unexpected jolt through his body. Baldwin found himself nodding, though every instinct screamed against leaving her alone with Jacquetta.
“As you wish,” he said stiffly. “I shall be nearby should you require anything.”
As Jacquetta led Beth away toward the solar, Baldwin caught Eleanor’s eye across the hall. His sister’s worried expression mirrored his own unease.
Jacquetta of Luxembourg was known for her interest in the occult, in alchemy, in things beyond ordinary understanding. If anyone could discern Beth’s true nature, it would be she.
And Baldwin was not certain that discovery would end well for any of them.
An hour passedbefore Beth emerged from the solar, her face pale but composed. Jacquetta followed, her expression inscrutable as she rejoined her daughter at the high table.
Baldwin intercepted Beth before she could return to the feast. “What happened?” he demanded, drawing her into the shadow of a stone archway. “What did she ask you?”
Beth’s eyes met his, troubled yet determined. “Everything. Where I’m from. What I know. How I came to be here.” She twisted her fingers together. “I tried to be vague, but she’s... perceptive.”
“Did you tell her the truth?” Baldwin’s heart hammered against his ribs.
