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And if she was not?

Opening it, he walked through the threshold, almost willing her to be slumbering, not trusting himself otherwise. Surely he hadn’t been expecting the sight that greeted him. His wife sat in front of the hearth, a fire similar to his giving off the only light in the chamber. Goblet in hand, dressed in a shift, Phillipa did not hear him open the door. She must be deep in thought. Did she think of him?

“Phillipa?”

She startled.

“I am not here for any other reason than to ensure you are well.”

That did seem to put his wife at ease. What horrors had she been told about “relations,” as she called them, between men and women? Had she ever kissed a man before?

He immediately tossed aside the thought.

“Lady Kristine had this sent to me.” She raised her goblet. “’Tis as fine a wine as I’ve ever tasted. I was told, after we had been betrothed, I’d not ever drink wine again. That in the North they drink only ale. Is that true?”

Spying the flagon on top of a wooden cupboard made for just the purpose, he made his way toward it. An array of goblets and even remnants of bread and cheese remained. Many noblemen, and women, entertained in the bedchamber, though he preferred to reserve it for other activities. “We drink the blood of the animals we hunt,” he said, sitting in the seat next to her. Both were large, ornate wooden chairs, comfortably lined with bright crimson velvet cushions.

“I had heard that of the Scots.”

He took a sip of wine. “And I’m told many things about court, most of which are likely untrue. For instance, does the groom of the stool know more of the king’s mind than even his wife?”

Phillipa laughed. “There are many who know the king’s mind more than his wife. The groom of the stool included,” she added.

“I knew it to be true. Do you know the man?”

“Aye, I do.”

“I don’t envy his position.”

“I don’t envy most servants’ positions.”

He was thoughtful for a moment. “Some are treated better than others.”

“But none have the freedom afforded to those who happened to be born into nobility, as you and I have.”

“My sister would say women, even those born into nobility, have little freedom that isn’t given to them by men.” His sister oft complained of the limitations of her gender. Once she marched up to the altar just after mass and, as brazen as could be, touched it, despite women being forbidden to do such a thing. It had caused a scandal, but then, Haddie was not known to care about doing so.

“I would agree with her. How old is your sister?”

“Ten and nine. The youngest of us all.”

“A similar age to my own.”

So quickly the conversation turned. Any discussion of Lady Catherine would be laced with an undertone he wasn’t willing to endure at this moment. So Haydn changed topics, thinking of Conrad’s advice. “You seemed to enjoy the apricot tart at supper.”

“Very much. Sweets have always brought me enjoyment.”

“What else brings you enjoyment, Phillipa?” He had not meant the question to sound so flirtatious, but it had come out that way nonetheless.

“Riding Lady. Being with my sister. When I attended the queen, I enjoyed dancing very much.”

“Do you not dance in your own hall?”

“Nay. My father does not like the distraction. He enjoys his musicians well enough, but dancing? Nay.”

“My mother enjoys it as well. If there is an occasion to dance, she will find it. Kenshire’s hall is known for more celebrations than anywhere in Northumbria.”

“Do you enjoy it?”