Bessie’s gaze goes from teasing to alert. “You fainted in the hall? When did you faint in the hall?”
“Sometime in the morning. I don’t remember the specifics. Long story short—I fainted, and Simon helped me.”
“Well, we’re very luckySimonwas there.” She says his name like it’s a scandalous, and the silent weirdness that falls between us afterward is palpable. Bartholomew arrives a few seconds later.
“I have drinks,” he cheerfully announces, handing a cup to me and then Bessie.
“Great. Is this wine?” I take a big gulp before he can nod, and holy freaking hell, the sticky sweetness goes down like a punch to the throat.
“Oh, wow,” I cough out. “There is a lot of honey in there. Like, a very intense amount of honey.”
Bessie takes a sip without issue. “It tastes as it always does to me.”
“Yeah, me too,” I agree, biting down my inner agony. “It just went down the wrong pipe.”
A heavy silence consumes our circle, and Simon is the first to act. “The hour is late,” he says, placing his cup on a nearby table. “I should be on my way.”
“Indeed, rest up for the tournament,” Bartholomew says. “I have two pence on your victory.”
Simon looks down at the floor before glancing up again. “I thank you. I’ll do what I can.”
“But winning isn’t everything,” I decide to throw in, even as Bartholomew gives me a subtle glare. “I’m just saying, if Simon doesn’t love jousting, there’s no pressure. Bird-watching is a respectable hobby, too.”
Bessie and Bartholomew are both confused, but Simon just looks at me, his eyes smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies.
Our glances brush before he bows, saying, “Good evening,” and walking away.
Bessie calls out after him, “Good evening to you,Simon.”
He disappears into the crowd, and I shoot Bessie a scowl. “Was that really necessary?”
“You tell me,” she counters. “You were the one using the full force of your appeal on Simon Gainsford.”
“I was not.”
She barks out a laugh. “Of course you were! Your eyes were sparkling, and you smiled whimsically. Did she not smile whimsically, Bartholomew?”
Our new friend playfully squints his eyes in mock thought. “I may have noticed a touch of whimsy from my angle. And her eyes do seem to be less sparkling now than they were when Lord Gainsford was here and we weren’t.” He turns to face me. “Is it because I don’t joust?”
“Medically speaking, her pupils may still be dilated from her head injury.”
Bartholomew turns to Bessie with unfettered excitement. “Are you a healer?”
She shrugs. “Of sorts.”
“Would you take a look at my cousin? He broke his leg, and the pointy bone is pushing out through his thigh skin.”
“How long has he been in such a state?” she asks.
“Just a month or so.” My horrified eyes shoot to Bessie, but she isn’t alarmed. “He’s down the hall, if you’ll follow me.”
Bessie hands me her cup. “We’ll be back shortly.”
They walk off together, leaving me with two drinks and no company. Maneuvering through the crowd, I lean in between an opening of people to place our drinks down on the table. Everyone sends me barely furtive glances as I move along the frame of the room, and it’s hard to observe others when you’re the main attraction. I think about speaking to a group of younger women, but they flinch uncomfortably when I start to approach. The last thing I want is to bother anyone in their downtime, so I switch gears and exit out the door Bessie and Bartholomew went through.
Finding myself in a somewhat deserted corridor, I take my time as I pass several rooms. I’m halfway down the hall when I pass an open door, and my curiosity gets the better of me as I glance inside.
If I was filming the pilot episode forHoarders of Hampton Court Palace, this would be a solid place to start. I step inside the room, and my eyes don’t know where to land first. Even with the clutter, it’s still appealing. It reminds me of an antique shop—chaotic chic. There are hundreds of books stacked and shelved and discarded piles of papers in every direction. The walls are splattered with dark tapestries and slightly damaged paintings. I’m taken aback by a humongous set of stag antlers mounted above the dwindling fire when I hear the voice behind me.
