A knock on her chamber door roused her from her thoughts. She stepped away from the mirror, inviting the knocker to enter.
Kenneth entered the chamber, closing the door softly behind him. Mortimer had forbidden him to wear his armor inside the keep so he was dressed in a dark tunic and leather breeches. He stood politely by the door, his big hands clasped behind his back. He was actually shaved and combed and looked rather gentlemanly. Toby had seen him that way many a time since their arrival to Wigmore and Kenneth always looked extremely uncomfortable. The man missed his armor as one would miss a lover.
“Are you ready, Lady de Lara?” he asked. “Mortimer has sent me to retrieve you.”
She pursed her lips irritably, keeping her retort to herself when he lifted a rebuking eyebrow at her. Turning away from him, she went over to the vanity table with its vast array of powders and perfumes. Sitting down, she picked up a delicate cotton powder puff and began to powder her shoulders and décolletage with a very fine talc powder fragranced with rose oil.
“Why do you suppose Tate has not come yet?” she asked him quietly.
He watched her dust off her lovely shoulders. “He will be here, my lady.”
She stopped dusting and looked at him. “As you have said many times, yet he has not appeared.” She stared at him a long moment. “You… you do not suppose that de Roche was being truthful and he drowned in the frozen river?”
Kenneth shook his head. “If he had, we would be hearing it from other sources by now. Yet de Roche is the only one who has mentioned it. Not even Mortimer has mentioned it.” He watched her absorb the information, ripples of doubt and hope spreading across her face. “Are you ready to go?”
She put the puff down, giving a little sigh as she did so. “I do not suppose we could tell Mortimer that I am ill, could we?”
“Not a chance.”
She made a face. “Who is his visitor, then?”
Kenneth shifted on his big legs. “The Earl of Suffolk, Robert de Ufford. He is a major supporter to Mortimer’s cause.”
“Why is he here?”
“I would like to know that myself.”
Toby stared at herself in the mirror, seeing Kenneth’s reflection also as he looked at her. Feelings of helplessness and restlessness swept her. She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her fists.
“I do not want to be here any longer,” she hissed. “I want to go back to Harbottle or Forestburn or wherever Tate wants to live.” She suddenly looked up, gazing at him in the reflection of the mirror. Her hazel eyes welled. “I just want to go home.”
Kenneth nodded. “I know,” he said gently. “But we cannot at the moment.”
She turned to look at him beseeching. “When, Kenneth? When will he come for me?”
“I do not know, Toby. You must be patient. He will come.”
Toby opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by Timothy blowing into the room. He hadn’t even knocked. Both Kenneth and Toby watched him as he went straight for Toby with a pewter chalice in his hand.
“Here, my lady,” he thrust the cup at her. “Drink this. It will be very good for the baby.”
Toby’s eyes widened. So did perpetually stone-faced Kenneth’s; his expression gradually morphed until he looked as if he was about to explode.
“What baby?” he demanded in an uncharacteristic burst.
Timothy looked at him with surprise. “She did not tell you?” he clucked softly. “Our lovely lady is pregnant, knight. You donot think that her outbursts and tantrums have been the mark of her normal disposition, do you? Lady de Lara is expecting. We must take great care of her now.”
Kenneth looked at Toby, who gazed back at him somewhat fearfully. He just stared at her, a million thoughts rolling through his head. He began to look unsteady.
“Does Mortimer know?” he asked, his tone oddly tight.
Toby shook her head, wary of his reaction. “Of course not.”
Kenneth did a very strange thing then; he exhaled loudly and sought the nearest chair as if all of his strength had suddenly left him. As he sat heavily, his ice-blue eyes fixed on her in shock.
“Toby, you have no idea…,” he trailed off, regrouping his thoughts. He was, frankly, reeling. “God’s Blood, are you sure?”
She sensed that he wasn’t entirely happy to hear her news. If he wasn’t happy, then perhaps Tate would not be happy. She suddenly felt awful about it and began to blink rapidly as her eyes started to well again.
