There was a long silence, and then Lady Marjorie and Lady Susanna both began to speak at once.
“Blessed Virgin, he is so handsome!”
“His beard tickled me when he kissed my cheek!”
“The queen doesn’t like his beard,” Philippa said. “He has grown it because King Francois has one, and he wishes to honor him.”
The sisters looked fascinated at this piece of information. They had seen how the king and the queen had treated their new sister-in-law. It had been with a familiarity they would have thought reserved for the high and the mighty, not a girl from Cumbria. They each had children who would one day need an ingress into court. Could Philippa possibly provide them with such a service? This marriage was indeed fortuitous.
“If my ladies would enjoy seeing the royal barge,” William Smythe said, “it is now departing from my lord’s quay.”
Lady Marjorie and Lady Susanna rushed to the windows overlooking the river, and at once began ohing and ahing. The royal barge with its rowers all in their Tudor green livery was quite magnificent.
“I’ve never seen its like before!”
“Nor are we apt to see anything like it again!”
“Can you see the king, Susanna?”
“Nay,” came the disappointed reply. “They have drawn the draperies.”
Lord Cambridge reentered the hall and, coming over to Philippa, kissed her soft cheek. “You look exhausted already, and the day is yet new,” he told her. “You must go into the gardens with Crispin and get some fresh air, darling girl.”
“In the rain?” she asked him.
“The rain has stopped. There are even just tiny rays of sunshine peeping through the clouds,” he said. “It is two days until you are formally wed, and it is past time, Philippa,” he advised her meaningfully.
“How is it you know me better than I know myself?” she asked him, and he gave her a small smile and a wink. Then turning, he said to the earl, “A quiet stroll would be just right now, I think. I will send a servant for you when the feast is ready to be served.”
Without an utterance Crispin St. Claire took Philippa by the hand and led her from the hall. “Bring me a cloak, and have Lucy fetch her mistress one,” he told the servant in the corridor. As the servant scuttled away the earl took Philippa by her shoulders and kissed her gently. “We did not kiss to seal our betrothal,” he said with a gentle smile. “In fact we haven’t kissed in some days, Philippa. Do you find kissing me distasteful, little one?” His gray eyes were staring directly down into her eyes as he tipped her face up.
“Nay, my lord, I like kissing you,” she admitted softly, “but I would not have you think me a brazen girl.”
“You are many things, I can see, Philippa, but brazen is not a word I would apply towards your behavior,” he told her, his arms tightening about her. He liked the feel of her petite form against his body.
“Because you were told of the unfortunate episode of the Canted Tower ...” she began.
“I know what was involved in that incident, Philippa. I have already told you that I found it amusing. You are reputed to be the most chaste of the queen’s maids,” he said.
“How would you know such a thing?” she wondered. What was that scent emanating from his velvet doublet? He looked so elegant this morning in his burgundy velvet, and his hose was a most fashionable parti-colored black and white.
“I asked,” he said simply. “I have learned in my thirty years that the best way to discover the answer to your query is to ask.”
“Oh,” Philippa responded, feeling slightly foolish.
“Your cloaks, my lord.” The servant was at their side holding the requested garments. He handed the earl Philippa’s as he set the cloak meant for the earl about his shoulders. Then he retrieved Philippa’s cape and set it about her shoulders.
The newly betrothed couple walked out into Lord Cambridge’s garden. The rain had indeed stopped, and the sun was beginning to peep through the clouds.
“Oh, look!” Philippa cried, pointing. “A rainbow! ’Tis good fortune to see a rainbow. And on this day of all days!”
He looked to where she was pointing and saw the broad arc of color bridging the river Thames. He smiled. “Good luck on our betrothal day is more than welcome.”
“Are you afraid?” she asked him as they walked.
“Of what?” he countered.
“Of marriage. Our marriage. We don’t know each other,” Philippa remarked.
