Adele was stunned and breathless. The meeting of their eyes had been so brief and was over so instantly that she almost thought she had imagined it. Now his back was turned solidly to her.
Adele’s heart slammed hard against her breastbone, and she gasped. She quickly raised her fan, attempting to compose herself.
“Are you all right, lady?” Henry Ferrars, Lord of Tutberry, asked, his eyes narrowed.
Adele wanted to kick herself for acting like a pubescent girl. She managed a rejoinder, but her mind was not on Ferrars or any of the men in her circle of admirers.
Geoffrey de Warenne had never spoken a single word to her, not even in a polite greeting. And since she had come to London several months ago, their paths had crossed a half dozen times, because of her betrothal to his brother. It occurred to her now that perhaps he purposely avoided her—perhaps he lusted after her like all the others.
Her stepbrother, Roger, as fair as she was dark, pushed into the throng surrounding her and pulled her aside. “Your thoughts are obvious.”
Adele shook him free. She fanned herself, to cool her blood. “Hello, my lord. How pleasant you are—as usual.”
Roger’s stare pinned her.
Adele fanned herself harder.
“What is he doing here?” Roger asked, again looking at Geoffrey. “I have heard he has been summoned. Too, that his brother came with him.”
Adele’s eyes widened and she froze.
“Not your beloved, so you can rest easy. He returned with Brand.”
Adele resumed fanning herself in relief. She preferred not having Stephen here at Court. Her gaze settled on the archdeacon again, but at the look on his face her fan stilled once more.
“Something is afoot,” Roger said. His face was tight. “God’s blood! The King reveals nothing to me now! I must get back into his good graces!”
“Then you will just have to devote yourself to doing so, won’t you, Roger?”
“And what will you devote yourself to, sister dear, while my back is turned?”
Adele ignored him. She smiled at her stepbrother. “Soon you will not have to worry about Rolfe de Warenne’s power or his sons.” Her tone was husky. “Soon I will be his son’s wife and privy to every happenstance.”
His dark gaze held hers. Suddenly his hand snaked out and gripped her elbow, yanking her fully against him. It was so crowded, busy, and noisy in the hall that no one noticed, and if someone had, Roger Beaufort, Earl of Kent, would not have cared. “But will I be able to trust you, darling?”
Adele was furious. Her black eyes blazed and she jerked herself free of her brother’s grasp. “Time will tell, won’t it?”
An ugly expression crossed his face. “We don’t have time, Adele. Every instinct I possess tells me something is afoot. Why is the cleric here? Why has he been summoned for a private audience with the King? Why was the other brother sent to the North? Does another war loom—one I am left out of?”
Adele was frozen once more.
Roger was grim. “You appear fascinated with him.” Their gazes locked. She knew he was not speaking of her betrothed. “Are you not?”
Adele’s pulse was rioting. “Every woman in this room is fascinated with the archdeacon.”
Roger said, “But every woman is not like you.”
Adele raised her fan, hiding her expression. Only her gleaming eyes were visible. “I will find out what passes, brother dear.”
“Have a care,” Roger warned softly. “Do nothing indiscreet.”
And Adele threw back her head, exposing her long, lovely throat, and laughed. “I am never indiscreet, my dear, asyoushould know better than anyone.”
Geoffrey informed the King’s ushers of his presence—although by now Rufus was undoubtedly aware of it, for the King had more spies lurking about than anyone—and went to find himself a seat at the table in the hall to wait for the royal summons. There was no seat to be had. Geoffrey was tired from the long, hard ride, and he worked his way to a solitary corner, in no mood for light, much less probing, conversation. His appearance at Court had already raised much speculation; most of the world knew he came only when summoned, and then to do battle with the Crown. As he was weary, his thoughts turned to the night to come. Rolfe had several small manors in Essex, and one was just across the Thames. Geoffrey intended to spend the night there instead of returning directly to Canterbury.
His second but more important reason for being in London was to speak with his father and inform him of all that had passed at Alnwick, an urgent necessity now that Stephen had arranged for a marriage to Princess Mary. Geoffrey intended to speak with Rolfe before retiring to Essex that evening. He had already sent the earl a private message.
He thought of a warm, soft bed. A moment later a woman backed into him.
