“Thank you, my lord,” Laurel said. She accepted the plate, set it on the table, then glanced over and noticed the folded paper still tucked between my thumb and palm.
My fingers tightened around the parchment. How on earth was I supposed to destroy it here? I couldn’t place the paper into the flame set in the middle of the table. Everyone would see. If I dropped it, someone might find it. If I ripped it, the pieces could still be gathered and read. I considered spilling my glass over it, but the motion would be too obvious with Laurel already watching me.
“So, you’re the new Sheriff of Nottingham, are you?” Leopold asked me. “Tell me, what exactly does that position entail?”
“His job today was to make all the girls swoon!” giggled my companion. I ignored her, and Laurel hastily turned her laughinto a hacking cough. Leopold reached over and rubbed her back with familiar concern, and I forced myself to look away before my face gave me away. What a smarmy bloke. My companion continued, “And you never said what you want me to call you. Baron? Ooh, or maybe Bear-Bear?”
“Sheriff will suffice,” I told her shortly. Laurel coughed harder into her napkin.
I redirected my attention to Leopold before I did something unwise. “I’m in charge of collecting taxes and arresting criminals, as well as carrying out their punishments. I also lead King John’s first platoon of soldiers.”
“Do you practice with the javelin?” Leopold asked swiftly.
“Rarely.”
“I do.” Leopold puffed out his thin chest. “I excel at it. If you ever need tips, I’m the one to consult. It isn’t about brawn, either. It is about skill. A fine art, as I tell my many servants. It’s all in the shoulder and wrist.”
My companion seemed impressed by this grand statement and leaned forward to ask more. Leopold continued to speak at length. I let him. A man who loved the sound of his own voice shouldn’t be any threat to me. Laurel would see right through him.
“Why, my lord, this food is divine,” Laurel gushed, and handed him a few grapes, but instead of taking them, he caught her wrist and ate them straight from her hand.
I had an immediate desire to break his arm.
“Sheriff?” Laurel turned her attention from Leopold to me and offered the small plate of cheese cubes and grapes. “Why don’t you try some? Here,eat it.” Her smile turned mischievous for the briefest moment. She glanced once at the paper still concealed in my hand, then raised one eyebrow meaningfully.
I stared at her. Surely she couldn’t mean... But what other choice did I have?
I picked up a few pieces of cheese and fruit, then tossed everything from my palm into my mouth and swallowed before anyone could see what I had done.
The parchment stuck to my tongue for one horrible second, then dragged down my throat. I took a drink immediately and forced myself not to cough.
I tasted ink all night.
LAUREL
Aalis gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up as she left with Conrad, clearly impressed that I had secured such a high-profile man for a dance partner. Baron and his date remained at the same table for nearly an hour before they finally decided to end their evening, and even after they were gone, I could still hear the girl’s high, silly laugh ringing inside my head. Baron wasn’t that funny. Skilled, yes. Handsome, without a doubt. Intelligent, very much so. Worthy of being laughed at as though he were a court jester performing tricks for her amusement, absolutely not.
Leopold led me through several more dances. The evening had stretched on far too long for my taste, and my feet were in agony inside the pointed shoes Aalis had given me. Each step pinched my toes, and every turn made my ankles flare in pain. Couples were beginning to disappear from the dance floor, some drifting toward the gardens in search of secluded benches, while others ended their evenings properly and went their separate ways.
I was very eager for the latter.
I had all the information from Leopold that I needed. The only reason I continued to entertain him was to keep up my cover, but Leopold had consumed far too many drinks and had grown more unpleasant with each one. He kept dropping comments about how lowly my station was, how generous he was to be seen with me, and how honored I should feel to have the privilege of his attention. He also seemed to think my gratitude ought to be shown by allowing him to put his hands wherever he liked. I expected nothing less from an entitled, chauvinistic pig like him, but still, there was a difference between expecting bad behavior and having to endure it.
I was glad Baron and his companion had already left. If Baron had seen where Leopold kept trying to put his hands, he would’ve ripped the man’s arms off, and at that point I might have let him. In fact, I’d rather have enjoyed watching it happen.
After the third time of redirecting Leopold’s hands, I insisted that I needed to sit down and rest my feet. I lowered myself into a chair near the edge of the room and watched the few couples still left on the dance floor. The music had slowed, and the candles had burned lower so there were more shadows in the corners of the hall. Servants moved quietly along the walls, collecting abandoned cups and empty plates, and the laughter that had filled the ballroom earlier had thinned into scattered bursts.
Leopold pulled his chair close to mine, far closer than necessary, and draped an arm around my shoulders before leaning in. The smell of alcohol on his breath hit me and I wrinkled my nose before I could stop myself.
“Done dancing, are you, Isabella?” he asked, his face only a few inches from mine.
“Yes, my lord. I’m exhausted.”
“My room is nearby. You should join me.” He lowered his face toward my neck.
Ugh. Did he actually think any girl with any amount of self-respect would accept such a revolting invitation? I held my breath so I would not have to inhale more of his odor and shrugged him away from me. “No, thank you, my lord.”
“You sure?” His voice dragged over the words. “My bed is very comfortable. Far better than whatever they give you in the servants’ quarters.”
