Kevin cocked an eyebrow. “Will you call me a woman to my face?”
Thomas shook his head. “Not me,” he said flatly. “If you want mead, then mead you shall have.”
Kevin’s gaze lingered on Thomas as if challenging the man to say something more about his sweet tooth, but Thomas grinned and went to collect his saddlebags. As the men collected their gear, Adonis managed to locate a servant who fetched a house servant who took them to two adjoining chambers on the upper floor of the palace.
Even as the men settled down and bathed, and Thomas turned shriveled in a hot bath because he had stayed in it so long, Kevin’s mind still lingered on his father and his regrets for having left the man. He couldn’t shake his thoughts, as much as he tried, and that infuriated him. He had to be in control of himself, always, and not let his feelings control his better sense. Emotions were a gateway to pain and he was tired of being in pain. He was tired of allowing himself a weakness, however small.
The death of Kieran Hage shut off the last few strains of feeling that Kevin would ever allow himself to feel.
The Scorpion now ruled completely.
CHAPTER FOUR
“How do Ilook?” Annavieve asked as she and Magda made their way down the dimly lit corridor. “Do I truly look presentable?”
Magda bustle along behind her, smoothing at the dark hair in its elaborate style that one of the palace maids had created. Annavieve was dressed in an exquisite gown of deep blue damask, heavy, with an elaborate shift underneath that peeked out at the hemline and on the cuffs of the sleeves. She wore a lovely necklace of double-stranded pearls with a big gold cross that hung from the longer of the strands, courtesy of the queen. Eleanor was pregnant again and confined, but she had made sure to supply her husband’s charge with fine clothing and jewels, all on loan of course, but because Annavieve didn’t own anything that wasn’t ugly rough wool better suited for a convent, the queen had graciously sent her a few things to wear while she was in London.
But the fit of the dresses was problematic. Eleanor wasn’t a tall woman, so the blue damask was a bit too small on Annavieve’s height. Furthermore, Eleanor was heavier than Annavieve was so the dress gapped. Magda had done her best to pin it so it at least fit moderately well. The old woman fussedwith her young charge’s hair and dress as they made their way towards the small feasting hall.
“Thou art beautiful,” Magda said as they scurried. “Remember thy manners and remember not to speak unless thou hast been spoken to first.”
Annavieve nodded, feeling her nerves. Having spent her entire life at a convent, she hadn’t been schooled in the art of conversation and she was very nervous about meeting her future husband because of it. She could discuss a few things, but she certainly wasn’t cultured enough to be the wife of a duke. At least, that’s what she thought. But there was no use in worrying about it; the moment of truth would soon be upon her.
The corridors of Thorney Island were narrow and somewhat smoky from the hearth fires in the rooms, with smoke drifting into the corridor and mingling with the smell of rushes and dogs. This corridor in particular was well-traveled, and somewhat dirty, and Annavieve held her skirt up off the ground so she wouldn’t sully the bottom of it. The servant who had fetched her from her chambers was several feet ahead of them, leading them towards the hall, and when they finally reached the entry, the servant disappeared and left Annavieve and Magda standing in the doorway. Protocol would dictate they be shown to their seat so they waited in a nervous pair as a well-dressed servant finally approached them.
In silence, Annavieve and Magda followed the servant towards one of the two big feasting tables in the room. Each table held about twenty people, so there was room for quite a party if the chamber filled up.Step, step, step… each step brought more and more apprehension as Annavieve eyed the occupants of the table, knowing one of them was the man she was to marry. What would he think of her in her ill-fitted dress? It was a struggle not to panic about it. As they approached thetable on the heels of the fine servant, Edward glanced up and noticed them.
Annavieve’s hands were sweating as she locked gazes with the king, who smiled thinly at her. She went to curtsy but her hands were so sweaty that it was difficult to politely collect her skirt without leaving wet stains. But she displayed her respect for the king in a deep and practiced curtsy as Edward threw an arm in her direction.
“Ah,” he said. “The Lady Annavieve has arrived. You look quite comely, my lady. Victor, stand up and meet your betrothed.”
Annavieve forced a smile as she stood politely at the edge of the table. As she waited patiently, an older man seated across from Edward finally stood up. His movements were lethargic and very hesitant, and for the longest time he wouldn’t even look at her. He kept his eyes on Edward as if silently pleading for a reprieve. There was something in his expression that was wholly miserable. Everyone at the table could see it. As Edward glared at the man, he finally turned to Annavieve.
“Lady Annavieve,” he said in a deep, raspy voice. “I am Victor de Ferrers.”
Annavieve studied the man before dropping into a curtsy. Her first impression of him was one of severity– he had silver hair, prominent dark eyebrows, and an intense gaze. He was tall, and rather big, but old. He was most definitely old. He wasn’t particularly bad looking, however. There was something seasoned and ruggedly handsome about him. There was also something dark.
“My lord,” she greeted. “I am deeply honored to meet you. May I present my nurse, Sister Joseph Magda.”
Victor didn’t acknowledge the old woman standing behind Annavieve, he simply sat back down and collected a pitcherof wine. As he poured himself another drink, all but ignoring Annavieve, Edward spoke.
“Please sit, my lady,” he said to Annavieve, although he was eyeing Victor unhappily. “Please tell us how you have enjoyed your stay in London so far. I would think it was quite different from Sempringham.”
Feeling embarrassed by Victor’s obvious lack of interest in her, Annavieve sat at the end of the table while Magda went to go stand against the wall behind her, back in the shadows. From that position, the old woman could watch everything and intervene if necessary. Feeling very alone with Magda out of her view, Annavieve smiled weakly at the servant who brought her a pewter chalice of wine.
“It is very different, Your Grace,” she said. “As you are aware, Sempringham is quite isolated. There are the usual chores and not much else. In fact, coming to London those few months ago was my first trip out of Sempringham in years. Thorney Island offers much more interesting things to see.”
Edward was only engaging the woman in conversation so that Victor could see the type of woman he was to marry. She was well-spoken and clear. Victor didn’t seem to be much inclined to speak to the young woman himself, which infuriated Edward. Seeing that Victor was ignoring the woman wholeheartedly at this point, he turned the conversation towards his cousin.
“Victor,” he said. “Please tell Lady Annavieve of Ilchester Castle. She is soon to be the chatelaine so mayhap you should tell her what she is getting herself in to.”
Annavieve turned to Victor with polite expectation but Victor seemed to be more interested in his wine.
“It is a castle just like any other,” he said, disinterestedly. “I do not suppose that the nuns of Sempringham taught you anything of tending a house and hold?”
There was great disdain in his voice, which intimidated her. “A little, my lord,” Annavieve replied steadily. “I know how to run a kitchen, purchase goods, determine the best price for our needs, and make sure there is enough to feed us through the winter.”
Victor’s gaze lingered on the young woman before turning to Edward, his manner bordering on exasperation. “And this will be the perfect duchess?”
