She leaned against the stone parapet, breathing in the night air scented with pine and distant woodsmoke as she twisted the ring the queen had given her back and forth on her finger. Glenhaven had started to feel like home. The thought startled her with its truth. She had stopped looking for ways back to her time and had begun to build a life here. Now this summons felt like a verdict, a reckoning for daring to find happiness in a place she didn’t belong.
The soft sound of footsteps made her turn. Baldwin stood at the top of the stairs, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the torchlight from below. Without a word, he crossed to where she stood and draped his own cloak over her shoulders. It was heavy with his warmth and carried his scent, pine, leather, and something uniquely him.
“You should be resting,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “The journey will be long.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Beth looked up at him, studying the strong lines of his face in the moonlight. The faint scar along his jawline seemed silver in the pale light. “Too much on my mind.”
Baldwin rested his hands on the stone wall, his signet ring glinting. “If they question you, speak plainly. Let me handle the rest.”
The distance in his voice hurt more than she expected. “Do you regret finding me?” she asked softly.
He turned to her then, and in his eyes she saw not the coolness of before, but a storm of emotion so raw it took her breath away. “Never,” he said, the word like quiet thunder.
For a moment, they stood in silence, the truth of his answer hanging between them like a physical thing. Then he stepped back, breaking the spell.
“Rest,” he said again. “Dawn comes early.”
The courtyard bustledwith activity as the first light of dawn painted the eastern sky. Horses stamped and snorted, their breath visible in the cool morning air. Servants scurried about, loading the last of the provisions onto the carts.
Beth stood by her mount, dressed in a rich brown gown Eleanor had selected, with a traveling cloak of dark green wool pinned at her shoulder. Her hair was braided and coiled at the nape of her neck, making her feel strangely formal.
The household servants gathered to see them off, whispering among themselves about the court and what it might mean for Glenhaven. Old Martha, the kitchen mistress, pressed a small bundle of herbs into Beth’s hand.
“For calm nerves, milady,” she whispered. “Court can be a viper’s nest.”
Harry approached, offering Beth a small, smooth stone. “’Tis for luck,” he explained with a shy smile. “Looks like a useless rock, but it belonged to my nan. She said it kept her safe in troubled times.”
Beth closed her fingers around it, touched by the gesture. “Thank you. I’ll keep it with me.”
Eleanor mounted her horse with the grace of a knight, ignoring the scandalized whispers of the older women. She wore a riding dress split for the saddle, her golden hair braided back beneath a cap of burgundy velvet.
Baldwin emerged from the hall, resplendent in a tunic of midnight blue embroidered with silver thread, his cloak fastened with a brooch bearing his family crest. He moved with the easy confidence of a man accustomed to command, giving final instructions to the steward who would oversee Glenhaven in his absence.
As the party assembled, Beth found herself searching for Baldwin’s gaze. When their eyes finally met across the courtyard, something unspoken passed between them, a promise, perhaps, or a warning.
With a nod to his household, Baldwin mounted his stallion and led the procession through the gates of Glenhaven, toward the distant court and whatever fate awaited them there.
CHAPTER 16
Beth’s jaw ached from forcing her face into a pleasant expression as their party approached the palace gates. After eleven exhausting days of travel from Glenhaven, her body felt battered and her nerves frayed from Baldwin’s increasingly terse demeanor. The closer they drew to London, the more he retreated into himself, answering her questions with monosyllables when he bothered to answer at all.
Each night had brought a different inn, some clean and welcoming with savory stews that made her mouth water, others so foul she’d shared a worried glance with Eleanor before picking pebbles out of the bread and sniffing questionable meat. She’d grown accustomed to sharing cramped chambers with Eleanor, the two of them whispering late into the night about court life and Baldwin’s darkening mood.
At least Eleanor and Roland remained talkative throughout their journey, telling her about London and the latest court gossip as their horses picked their way along muddy roads toward the imposing palace ahead.
Now, as the spires of Westminster Palace rose before them, Beth’s stomach twisted with anxiety. She smoothed the rich bluefabric of her gown and tried to remember all the instructions she’d been given about court etiquette.
“Remember,” Baldwin murmured, close enough that his breath warmed her ear, “speak only when spoken to. Keep your gaze lowered. And for the love of all the saints, don’t mention anything about... your origins.”
Beth turned to look at him, studying the severe line of his jaw, the tension that held his shoulders rigid beneath his deep green velvet doublet. “I’m not an idiot.”
His gray eyes softened slightly. “I never said you were. But London isn’t Glenhaven. The court is a nest of vipers, and you—” He stopped himself, glancing away.
“I what?” Beth pressed.
“You shine too brightly,” he said finally, his voice rough. “And things that shine attract attention.”
Before she could respond, their horses slowed to a walk as they crested the hill. Beth gasped, her hands tightening on the reins as the full assault of London hit her senses at once. The stench reached her first. A pungent mixture of waste, unwashed bodies, and smoke that made her eyes water. Then came the noise, a cacophony of shouts, and the constant rumble of countless feet and hooves on packed earth.
